Chapter Twenty-Two
New York in October was something to behold. Especially when the Yankees were on the hunt for a berth in the World Series, and the Rangers were off to a great start. This year in particular, the weather was gorgeous, with highs of seventy degrees and lots of sunshine, meaning the city was busy not only with tourists, but the New Yorkers were out in full force enjoying it while they could. Everyone knew the weather could turn on a dime. One week you could walk to work in shorts, the next? You’d be hauling out your knit hats, mittens, and wool overcoats.
Nate was busier than ever with several key clients migrating from Tucker’s roster to his. He loved his job, no question there, but every morning, he woke up and something was missing.
Molly.
They’d fallen into a habit of texting each other in the evening, carrying on a conversation about their day. It was nice because it made Nate feel like he was part of Molly’s life, but frustrating as hell because they didn’t talk about anything that mattered. Not really.
Nate would tell Molly about a new client he’d just signed or some outrageous contract demand he’d managed to secure. While Molly would update him on Fred Nagel’s dog, who’d graduated from eating carpet and antique lace tablecloths to faux fur coats and hardwood flooring. She’d give him updates on Petal and her brother Zach (because he was bad at keeping in touch), and last night, she’d had dinner with his brother. It was innocent. She’d popped into the Coach House for a bite to eat on her way home, and Beck had been there alone, but it did nothing to dampen the jealousy that bloomed in his chest.
He’d thought of nothing but her and Beck all night. Or her and some other guy.
Nathan tossed his pen and rubbed his eyes, leaning back in his chair, as he tried to clear his head. The door to his office opened, and he all but growled.
“Patrick, do not disturb means don’t fucking disturb. I just got a contract back from legal, and I need to go over it before I head home, and another to take with me, so whatever it is can wait.”
“Someone crap in your cornflakes this morning?”
Nate’s eyes flew open as Tucker Simon walked into his office. He got to his feet. “Sorry, boss. It’s been a hell of a week.”
Tucker shook his hand and nodded. “I hear you just landed the next gymnastic superstar, Maja Lane.”
“I did. She’s amazing. I drove out to her training facility. I’ve never seen anything like her. She’s strong and smart and appealing. She’ll do great.”
Tucker sank into one of the club chairs in front of Nate’s desk. “And the Mason kid is impressing.”
“Yeah. He smoked training camp, and so far, in the five games he’s played, he’s racked up seven points. Management is pumped and already looking at locking him down for more than the initial two-year contract we took.”
“Good. Now they’ll pay what he’s worth.”
Nate nodded.
“Any more news on Link Major?”
“He quit soccer altogether. Says he’s going to take some time and keep his options open.”
Tucker didn’t bother to hide his surprise. “Didn’t see that coming.”
“No one did, especially his team.” He paused. “I thought you weren’t coming to the office until next week.”
“Abby’s brother finally popped the question to the woman who’s put up with him for the last couple of years. They’re having an engagement party at the family pub. You should come. Pretty sure Fiona’s working.”
Fiona was a bartender at the Black Dog, the pub Abby’s family owned and operated not far from Times Square. When Tucker was in town, he frequented the place, and over the last several years, it had become one of Nate’s haunts. Fiona was a woman he’d seen casual
ly in the past.
“I think I’ll pass.” He pointed to his desk. “I’ve got this contract to finish up, and it will probably take me a few hours. I’ve got another one, so I’ll just head home. Thanks for the invite, though, and tell your wife I said hello.”
“When did hell go and freeze over?”
Nate’s eyebrows shot up. “What’s that?”
“Just never thought I’d see the day you passed up an evening with a pretty lady to stay home and read over contracts.”
Nate shrugged. “Just not feeling social these days, I guess.”
“I guess.” Tucker sat forward. “Who is she?”