Page 63 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 1

She lifts up and kisses my chin. “Good. I want you to miss me so when we’re together, we don’t waste a second not appreciating each other.”

I rub her hips, slow circles over the denim, the urge to be inside her intense, always so strong with her. “Yes, I can’t wait to appreciate you again.”

Pushing off me, she frees herself from my clutches where I would have been happy to hold her all day. “Go. Do great things today, and we’ll celebrate later.” She blows me a kiss just as the doorman greets her.

I pick up her helmet and spin it in my hands. “I love you, Natalie St. James.” I don’t keep my voice down because I want the world to hear.

In the light of the entrance of her building, I can see her cheeks redden. “I love you too, Nick Christiansen.”

The doorman looks back and forth between us, and then says, “I stand here all day.”

“No need. I’ll be seeing my girl later.”

He replies, “Have a good day.”

“You too.”

Natalie backs in, giving me a little wave before turning and dashing toward the elevator. I understand the extra energy despite the hour. It courses through my veins as well—adrenaline, love, anticipation of what the new day will bring. All good things.

22

Nick

I getup from the waiting area and walk across the lobby when I see my brother enter the revolving door to the building. Andrew checks in at the desk before joining me by the elevator. “Good morning,” I greet him with a handshake.

“You’re here early.”

“I’ve been up for a few hours, so I headed over to beat the traffic. It’s quite the nightmare.”

“I never was one for Manhattan. It’s a lot of people crammed into a small space.”

Shrugging, I punch the button to call the elevator. “It doesn’t bother me so much.”

He grins. It’s one I’m familiar with that’s been passed down from our dad to both of us. We get inside and head up to our meeting. He asks, “How’s Natalie?”

Okay, fine, I’m fucking grinning like an idiot. I play it off by looking down at my shoes. “She’s great.”

His laughter fills the elevator. “I would like this city a lot better if I had a girlfriend waiting for me. Did I tell you I texted with Dalen last week?”

“You failed to mention it.” My brother’s a good guy who’s made poor choices when it comes to dating. I could say the same about Dalen. So maybe it’s not so surprising that they’re talking again. A lot of life has been lived since they were in high school.

“I thought you’d give me shit for it.” He stares at the numbers lighting up above the doors. “She’s getting the implants removed.” When I don’t say anything, he adds, “Nothing to do with me. Just said she went through a phase but is tired of being judged by them.” He glances at me just as the doors open. “She has a sweet side.”

“She does.”

He walks to the receptionist's desk while I hang back to wait. When he returns, he says, “Jackson St. James.”

St. James. Natalie.My Natalie.“Funny. It’s never clicked before, even when I met with the Manhattan Financial lawyers, but that’s Natalie’s last name.”

“It’s pretty common here. I’ve seen it on two buildings this morning. Also, solid set of investments in Monopoly.”

“What?”

“Must be common here because that set of properties were New York Avenue, Tennessee Avenue, and St. James Place. I knew if I secured those, I’d kick your ass in Monopoly.” Interesting. Guess he’s right. I chuckle because Natalie would call it an East Coast thing.

“I can’t believe you remember those names. I only remember Boardwalk and Park Avenue.”

A man pushes through a door into the waiting area.

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