Page 70 of The Secret

I was expecting my inability to say no to kick in, but miraculously, I pushed through. Kind of. “Why don’t you give me yours, and if I’m around, I’ll let you know.”

He hesitated for a second before reaching into his pocket, pulling out a thick cream business card with his number embossed on it.

“Okay, but you’d better call.” He waved it at me, then laughed, “Unless you’re trying to let me down gently and I haven’t been able to take the hint?”

“No, honestly, I really don’t know what I’m doing this weekend.”

His preppy cuteness intensified from his toothy grin.

In the distance, the lights on the Brooklyn Bridge were twinkling in full force. I hadn’t noticed how late it had gotten, especially as the powerful patio heaters had fought off the evening chill. I checked my watch then turned to Payton.

“Pay, it’s time to go.”

A chorus ofboosandit’s still earlieswent up from the rest of the table.

“She’s right boys. We’ve been here a lot longer than you.” Payton stood up and smoothed down her jumpsuit. “But if you’re lucky, we’ll see you again.”

We said our goodbyes, and I wrangled my arms into my jacket which had been resting on my shoulders, as we walked off.

“We’re not seeing them again,” Payton whispered.

“I know.”

We stopped by the reception desk on the way out. “Excuse me; we need to settle our bill.”

“Oh no, Ms. Hawkes, your bill was already settled by Mr. Williams,” she smiled.

I shouldn’t have been surprised but I was. “Not just the champagne?”

“No, ma’am. Everything.”

“Oh, thank you.” A little dance of happiness started up in my belly that wasn’t anything to do with champagne or tequila, even though both those drinks were the epitome of happiness.

“We hope you enjoyed your evening.”

“We did, thank you.” I met her smile with a wider one. “It’s been wonderful.”

A line of cabs was stationed outside the bar as we exited.

Payton hugged me then jumped into the first cab. “Speak to you tomorrow. Love you!”

“Love you.”

I was back in the apartment fifteen minutes later, marveling that it would have taken me another thirty minutes to get home if I still lived out in Williamsburg. It was only after two attempts to get the key in the lock I realized I may have been more tipsy than I thought.

“Whoops!” I rebounded off the wall, avoiding Barclay who’d run out to greet me as I walked into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, grinding to a halt when I spied Murray, Rafe, and Penn sitting at the kitchen table, each with a large pile of poker chips in front of them.

“Oh, hey there.”

Rafe and Penn looked up, identical smirks appearing almost immediately. Murray, however, still had his back to me.

“No wonder you were worked up,” Penn muttered quietly across the table before clearing his throat. “Kit, you look beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

I glanced over to Murray’s now turning back, expecting a look which agreed with Penn’s assessment. What I got instead was a glare of pure loathing, darkening with every second his eyes stayed on me, and the dancy, happy feeling I’d been floating on since we left the bar sunk like a lead weight.

“Are you drunk?”

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