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“No, I took a few hours off to go on a tour. Besides, I might be here as a favor to my dad, but I still have work that doesn’t involve Southern Hospitality Greetings.”

“What do you do there? It doesn’t seem like you travel around doing this all the time.”

“I’m in charge of a few departments, but acquisitions is one of them. Dad just wanted me to handle this one myself instead of sending someone on my team.”

“Like your assistant who gets you coffee?” She joked. “Wait. Are you like Miranda Priestly? I’m convinced you are. Do you havetwoassistants? Is one of them Emily Blunt? Did you convince her to give up acting to work for you?”

“I’d never convince Emily Blunt to give up acting.” Monica placed a hand on her heart as if that would be a travesty.

Bridgette laughed and offered, “I can walk you to your waiting car, if you want.”

“I’d have to order it first,” Monica replied.

“I parked over here. I can drive you to your hotel.”

“I interrupted your quiet time. I should leave you to it.” Monica stood and removed the jacket, handing it back to Bridgette. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Okay. Yeah.”

“Good night, Bridgette.”

“Bridge.”

“What?”

“People call me Bridge.”

“Okay. Good night, Bridge.” Monica smiled softly and walked away toward the sidewalk that would lead her to the road.

“Good night,” Bridgette said mostly to herself.

CHAPTER 12

Monica had woken up early, and because she’d been so distracted by the thoughts of Bridgette sitting alone in the grass by the river, she’d forgotten to pre-order her breakfast from room service. They’d probably still make her food and send it up, but something about what Bridgette had said the night before kept entering her mind. This city was alive. The more time she spent in it, the more she realized the truth of that statement. After the car had dropped her off at her hotel, she’d not just gone inside; she’d walked around the Central Business District for about an hour, not getting too far from her hotel for safety. There were people still milling about, but not as many as had been in the Square or the Quarter, so the city felt quiet.

Oddly enough, though, despite there being cars on the road, there was no loud honking. No cabbies were yelling out their rolled-down windows for people to learn how to drive or walk faster. People here seemed to move at a slower pace, which made Monica walk slower as well. She’d left her phone on silent for her dinner with Sophie because she hadn’t seen her in years and hadn’t wanted to be rude, and she’d kept it on silent through her chat with Bridgette and on her walk. It wasn’t until she got back to her hotel room and took her long bath that she even realized she hadn’t heard her notifications going off every thirty seconds in a long time.

“This place just does something to you,” she’d said to herself.

Not wanting to go the whole day without at least eating something, Monica thought about having her regular coffee again but recalled Bridgette’s words about eating local and decided to go to the café where they’d grabbed coffee the previous day. She’d noticed they served breakfast and a light lunch, so she walked out of her hotel and headed that way. She wore the same pair of jeans as the night before, along with a green silk shirt, but this time, she also had her jacket with her in case it got chilly or rained. When Monica walked into the café, she quickly looked behind the counter for the flirty barista, wanting to avoid her.

“She’s not here. She works second shift.”

Monica looked down at a table to her right, where she saw the owner of the voice.

“Oh, hey.”

“Hi,” Bridgette said.

“What are you doing here?”

“Having breakfast. Or, Iwillbe.” Bridgette held up a mug of coffee. “You?”

“I thought you didn’t come here often because of–”

“Not for lunch,” Bridgette clarified. “I’m here at least once a week for breakfast if I can swing it. Today, they have strawberry and coconut French toast. It’s my favorite.”

“That sounds bad for you.”

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