Page 94 of Bargain with the Bachelor
Even if that meant living without her.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Voice from the Past
Kristal
Locking the door of my apartment, I took the elevator to the lobby.
“Good morning,” the doorman, said. “Pretty nice out today—no rain.”
I smiled at him. “That’s what I like to hear. Have a good day John.”
Joining the stream of humanity on the sidewalk, I was grateful for the pleasant weather—I had a twenty-minute walk to the museum, and it was no fun in the rain. I’d finally figured out how to hail a taxi, but I avoided them if I could. They were pricey, and it felt like I was taking my life into my hands each time I rode in one.
Still, it was better than driving in from one of the suburbs or even across the city. That kind of daily commute in the crazy Manhattan traffic would have driven me mad.
The city was busy and loud and moving at top speed today. It was like thateveryday. It seemed like everyone was late—allthe time.
Even a couple months into my new life here, I hadn’t acclimated to the change of pace or the sheer size of the city. The population of the New York City metro area was almost nineteen million compared to Rhode Island’s one million people in the entire state.
I missed it sometimes. Well, more than sometimes. I missed it all the time, especially Eastport Bay.
My life here in Manhattan was definitely notbad. I enjoyed my job. I’d made some friends through work and in my building. I loved my cozy little apartment and the tiny galley kitchen I’d actually learned to cook in.
The dating pool here was certainly larger—not that I’d taken advantage of it. A few guys had asked me out, but I’d declined.
I wasn’t ready yet.
Larson Overstreet had been one of those guys, but as nice as he was, I couldn’t look at him without thinking of Hunter, and it was imperative to do everything possible to avoid thoughts of him.
Even speaking to Cinda had become difficult.
I missed her and AJ so much. And talking to my lifelong best friend on the phone gave me the false sensation that I could step outside and breathe in the crisp New England air, that I could ride my bike to the waterfront on my lunch break and listen to waves crashing against the rocks and the cries of seagulls and inhale the briny scent of the ocean.
The longing for home had only gotten worse since I’d been contacted by the Eastport Bay Art Preservation Guild’s interim director.
The woman had informed me the Guild’s board had voted unanimously to attach a salary to the director position and had tried to persuade me to return to Eastport Bay and take the job, which she didn’t want. She said the board members had all agreed I was the perfect person to carry on my mother’s legacy, especially as I held a masters of fine arts degree and already had experience with the Guild.
Where wasthisthree months ago?I’d wondered and regretfully turned down the offer.
I had a new life now, hundreds of miles from Eastport Bay. And even that distance wasn’t enough to keep me from thinking of Hunter constantly.
I simply couldn’t live in the same town with him, where we might run into each other and I’d find it impossible to avoid mentions of his name and possibly whatever woman he might be spending time with.
Reaching the museum, I stepped out of the muggy, super-heated city air into its air-conditioned interior.
Pulling my blouse away from my body, which was coated in a fine sheen of sweat, I hurried past the giant sculptures of fruit flanking the museum entrance and across the glossy floor of the soaring ultra-modern lobby. Taylor was working the front desk.
“Good morning,” the young receptionist said. “You had a call from a guy just a few minutes ago. I sent him to your voicemail. He sounded cute,” she added with an eyebrow waggle.
“Thanks.” I headed back to my office, stopping by the small employee break room to fill my coffee cup first.
Putting down my bag and settling in at my desk, I lifted the phone receiver and pressed the button to listen to my messages.
There was only one, and when I heard the recorded voice, I nearly spit out the sip of coffee in my mouth.
“Kristal. It’s me…”
