Page 98 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 1

That.

Was.

It.

My mom’s words return—Destiny will always find a way through a misunderstanding.

I’m no good for anyone else. I walk past Emily and out the door toward the exit. “Mr. Christiansen?” she calls behind me.

I keep running until I’m at the elevators, then call Tatum. She answers just when I think it’s about to go to voicemail. “Took you long enough.”

“I need to see her. I need to talk to Natalie. Will you help me?”

Without hesitation, she replies, “Let me work my magic.”

Falling against the wall, I slump down, holding the phone to my ear. “Thank you, Tatum.”

“Hurt her again, though, Nick, and I’ll hurt you.”

Her threat doesn’t sound empty. I may not be afraid of what Tatum would do, but I won’t cause Natalie any more pain, so it’s easy to agree. “I won’t. I promise.”

“Stand by.” The line goes silent. I look at the screen to verify that she did, indeed, just hang up on me.Yep, she sure did.

And I’m left wondering what stand by means, not by definition, but how long do I wait?

I need to get out of here because I’m too anxious to wait around for Tatum to call me back while surrounded by an office of strangers with their eyes glued to the new guy. Acting like a crazy person in front of Emily won’t help those rumors. Natalie would have laughed. Emily looked ready to call security.

Taking the elevator to the lobby, I set my sights on the set of doors in front of me. I chuckle under my breath as every last thing seems to be a reminder of Natalie, especially revolving doors.

Do I push through the side door or attempt the revolving doors again?

I vote for certainty, not willing to take any more risks. Where did that leave me before now? Alone and across the country in cold weather.That’s where.

The wind whips up, chilling me to the bone. I pull the lapels of my jacket closed in the front just as my phone rings. Moving off to the side, using a small concrete wall that juts out to block the wind, I look at the screen when it rings again.

The photo Natalie took the morning after finding each other again stays steady on the screen. My heart squeezes in my chest at seeing her beautiful face, but seeing this photo only means one thing. “Hello?”

34

Natalie

“Hi,”I whisper into the phone, huddling it to my ear as if some stranger in the coffee shop will overhear.

“Hey.” That tinge of hope that I’ve been holding onto for all this time is heard in his voice as well.

I’m not sure what to say now that I’m talking to him again. “You sound well.”

“Well?” He pauses. “No, I’m not well.”

I fight through the lump forming in my throat, and whisper, “You’re not well?”

“No, I’m terrible, actually.” The sound of wind travels the line, trying its best to keep me from hearing his deep tone that used to reach my core. But I’m here, pressing my phone to my ear to listen to anything he has to tell me. He says, “How’s your dad? My dad said he’s on the mend, but I haven’t heard anything else.”

Tilting my head down, I see the foam on the coffee is melting, the leaf design fading away. But I don’t care about that. Nick asking about my dad means the world to me. “He’s doing a lot better. He’s learning to relax. It’s a struggle, but he’s getting quite good at it.”

The lightest of chuckles comes across, then he says, “That’s good to hear.”

“Yeah.” We both seem to be suffering from the same issue—a hesitancy to drop our walls—though I have to say he had a head start. I probably shouldn’t ask, unsure if I’m crossing some imaginary boundary I shouldn’t. “What’s wrong?” I do it anyway to satisfy my own curiosity.

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