Page 96 of The Rules of Dating a Younger Man

Fifteen minutes later, I jogged up the stairs from the subway around the corner from my office. Cell service was always spotty on the A train, so as I reached the street level, a bunch of messages came through on my phone. I opened and sorted through them as I walked.

Ad for overpriced monogrammed socks. Delete.

Bank notifying me that my monthly statement is ready. Save for later.

Credit-monitoring company telling me my score went up by two points. Delete.

Letter from Seneca Falls Building Inspector informing me the stop-work order has been lifted. Freeze in place.

I came to such an abrupt halt in the middle of the sidewalk, a guy crashed into my back.

“What the fuck?” he grumbled.

I held up my hand. “Sorry, man.” I stepped out of the flow of foot traffic to stand against the front window of a deli and reread the email.

Dear Mr. Foster,

We have approved your application for the missing electrical permit and completed our inspection of the underground fill-in. A certificate of occupancy will be issued within three business days. After such time, you may remove the posted stop-work order and resume construction on your property.

If you have any questions, please feel free to contact this office.

Regards,

Inspector David Arnoff

My stomach sank. It was, of course, great news for Ryan’s House and the people who needed free housing so they could be with their loved ones during treatment. But for me, it was terrible. Because it meant there was a very good chance I’d have to see Alex again. And now that I knew she’d moved on, that would be torture.

Though…I’d moved on, too, hadn’t I?

It sure as hell had felt that way a half hour ago. But suddenly, the only thing I could think of were Holden’s words. “I’m a strong believer that the man upstairs puts us where we’re supposed to be.”

***

On Thursday evening, I pulled into the parking lot of the hotel up in Seneca Falls. I’d canceled my trip with Lacey to the Hamptons, since I needed to be here instead. I felt terrible letting her down, but I needed to get things up and running here as soon as possible.

My chest felt tight as I walked to the entrance, trying not to glance around the parking lot, searching for Alex’s car. Of course she had no reason to be here this early. The only contact I’d had with her was the group email I’d sent to all the volunteers telling them we were back in business and starting on Friday. Most had responded to say whether or not they were coming, but not Alex.

I checked into the hotel, eyes darting around the lobby, even as I hated myself for getting my hopes up. The clerk slid the keycard to my side of the counter with a smile.

“Welcome back, Mr. Foster. You’re in room three-oh-two.”

“Thank you.”

“If you need anything, please let us know.”

I nodded and took a few steps away, then turned back. “Actually, could I trouble you to see if someone has checked in yet? We’re here for a volunteer project, and I have the keys, so…”

She hesitated. “Oh, you’re with that group from Ryan’s House, aren’t you?”

I smiled. “I am.”

She looked down at her keyboard. “What’s the volunteer’s last name?”

“Jones.”

My heart raced as she tapped the keys. When she squinted at the screen, I held my breath.

“Hmmm… How do you spell that?”

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