Page 97 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 1

My chest hurts, my heart suddenly pounding for no reason. The feeling has become a constant, but sometimes it likes to remind me it’s still here instead of the numbness I typically experience.

Me:Thanks. Love you, too.

I make a cup of coffee and move to the windows to look out, that pride my mom feels weighing on me. It’s a fear of disappointing them that has me sticking to their plan. I once thought I might change my life’s direction and leave that damn plan behind.

Then I met Natalie, and she made me feel I could take that plan and make it my own—create my own path—using the opportunities I’d been given. When I started thinking about moving to New York, I can admit it was for her, but it also gave me time to realize that I could still have my dream of a house on the beach. It didn’t have to be in LA. If the beach has waves, I can surf anywhere, even on the East Coast.

Hell, I ordered a wetsuit for the nearby freezing waters. If I can surf along the Washington coastline, I can surf in the Atlantic. With her, it never felt like a tradeoff. I was getting to be with Natalie full-time. That was winning the grand prize and the Super Bowl all in one.

My mom found the apartment online, but it looked fine to me. Does it matter? It’s a place to sleep and work when I’m not in the office. It’s temporary. Six months, maybe a year. The possibility of it being permanent has been floated, but we’ll take things one step at a time.

Any other time, this view would be a masterpiece. I can see far beyond the surrounding high-rises and skyscrapers of downtown Seattle. I put my hand flat to the window. The cold from outside is trying to get in through the glass. As a guy from Southern California, this cold weather is going to take some getting used to. Unlike Manhattan, which had an incentive to be there.

A promotion to Seattle to lead my own legal team, the apartment, and the money are what everyone dreams about when planning their careers. I’m getting it before the age of twenty-seven. There was no logical reason to turn down the offer, except one, and she’s blocked me from reaching her.

Give Natalie time to herself, to focus on her father, and then explain how this whole mess came about. But the last text exchange didn’t go as planned, so I’ve been confused about how we move through to find ourselves together again. Her blocking me gave me the answer I needed to make decisions regarding my future, but Tatum’s offer to help is still on the table.A few weeks to months.That was her requirement, and I’ve met the minimum.

But I’ve been debating while going through the loss of Natalie. The pain is still a constant ache, but it’s time for me to live again. Even though it’s only a few weeks, I can’t bear to continue living like everything’s going to be fine.

It’s not.

She blocked me. That tells me more than she will. Now I need to take a cue from her book and move on without her.

Despite the coffee's temperature, it doesn’t do much to warm me like Natalie used to. She was my personal addiction, a zap to my system reviving a heart that had lost interest in relationships.

Everything with her was in turbo drive, but I don’t regret a minute, except all the ones we were apart. I turn my back to the world and return to the kitchen to drop off the mug. I can wallow here all I want, but that won’t bring Natalie back to me.

I unload my SUV and drop the boxes and luggage in the bedroom closet. Finding what I need, I get dressed and then head to the office. I’ve been here a couple of times over the past few weeks to make sure the transition goes smoothly, but it’s time for me to settle in as well.

* * *

A week drags by,and even a quick trip to LA for Thanksgiving doesn’t fix my mood. I finally have an office ready to move into, so I figure Friday is a great day to officially begin.

Like in New York, the team remains intact from the previous leaders. I walk into the office in a tailored charcoal-colored suit. I fit the part of a successful lawyer down to my shoes even though I haven’t done my time. Being born into the right family deserves the credit, not me. I’m not naïve to the fact that my co-workers believe I have no business being here. I’m also up for the challenge of proving them wrong.

I’m not just a handsome face with great taste in suits. I’m ready to tackle my job.

I’ll leave the office politics and gossip for Andrew to handle. I’m here to ensure we’re protected, legally, as we move into the next level of expansion.

I’m led to my office by a pretty assistant. I shouldn’t note her appearance like that. I won’t out loud, but by looking at Emily, it’s obvious. Did the universe place her in my path to distract me from the heartache I can’t seem to shake?

For some reason, I don’t think my mom would agree. This is different.She is.Emily’s not in my house—seventh, zodiac, or otherwise.Only Natalie is, remaining there sprawled out, staking claims to all corners of my heart like she does the bed.

The rush I had with Natalie still courses through me when I least expect it as if she won’t let me forget her or even let her go. “Fuck.”

“I can order a different chair.” I turn to find Emily still standing in the office, ready to wheel the chair out from behind the desk.

“No,” I say, putting my hand out. “It’s not the chair.”

“I’ll get you whatever you need, Mr. Christiansen. Just tell me what you like.”

I don’t mean to stare at her blankly, but that difference is growing more apparent. “It’s not the chair. It’s me.”

A move to a new city, just like a chair, isn’t going to change things for the better. This relocation may give me a corner-office view, but I miss the one of Natalie—the skyline dotted with lights behind her when we picnicked in an empty apartment. Seeing her standing outside my hotel room in Catalina with that quirked grin, annoyed at herself for having to knock on my door because she was locked out.

Her lying in bed when I had to leave for the airport, too beautiful to walk away without another kiss. The sun shining in her eyes as she stared out to sea on the patio of the bungalow. But all those views pale compared to the one of her in my arms, thinking she was dreaming.

The first time our eyes met, I knew I was a goner. I knew I was hers. It didn’t matter that we hadn’t even exchanged names. My soul held hers, and that was it.

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