New York, Actually (From Manhattan with Love 4)

Would he show up in the park later?

Would he wonder where she was?

No, he probably thought she was crazy now.

Having cleared the clouds from her head, she called Valentine and returned to her apartment.

“You’re going to spend the day with Harriet. I’m going to meet my publisher.” She talked to him as she got ready, taking extra care with her appearance.

They wanted her to tour, which she’d refused, just as she had refused to have an author photo on the jacket of her book. Touring would mean showing her face, risking exposure. She didn’t want Aggie to have a face. On her website she used a logo—a heart with a question mark inside it. She used the same image on her social media. What was the point of using a pseudonym if you put your face up there for everyone to see?

She stared into the mirror as she finished applying her makeup.

When she was answering questions online, or writing her book, she became Aggie, the persona she’d invented. Aggie was fearless in the advice she gave. She was strong, confident and wise.

Right now Molly felt like writing to Aggie to ask her how to unravel her complicated life. She frowned. She’d never felt that way before. She’d always been comfortable compartmentalizing her work and her private life.

It was that conversation about divorce that had rattled her. Or maybe it was the kiss. What advice would she give herself?

Be yourself.

Or maybe that wasn’t what she’d say. Who, in reality, revealed all of themselves? Most people had a side they showed the world, and a side they kept private.

She was no different, except that she’d given a name to her public persona.

“You’re good at what you do,” she told her reflection sternly. “You know more about relationships than anyone you’ve met, you have hundreds of grateful emails to prove it.”

So if she was such an expert on relationships, why had she run from Daniel?

One kiss wasn’t a declaration of eternal love. No feelings had been involved.

There had been no reason to overreact, except that she knew kisses like that inevitably led to other things and before you knew it someone got hurt.

On the other hand Daniel wasn’t the type to get involved past a certain point, so maybe they could have the passion without the pain.

Was that even possible?

Remembering the kiss brought flutters of excitement low in her belly.

Where he was now? In the park?

Maybe, or maybe not.

Maybe he had assessed her running-away routine and dismissed her as too complicated. Who wanted to get involved with a woman who behaved as if zombies were chasing her when a guy kissed her?

Valentine watched her reproachfully as she stepped into a pencil skirt and teamed it with a shirt with tiny shell buttons.

“Don’t look at me like that. I can’t go and see my publisher wearing yoga pants. I need to look professional and competent. And I can’t take you with me. You’ll have fun with Harriet.” She slid her feet into a pair of flats and put heels in her bag. “This is what pays the bills. And in New York City I can tell you those bills are big, so be a good boy and I’ll take you to the park this evening.”

He whined and lay across the door, looking pitiful.

“Don’t guilt-trip me! You know you love Harriet.” She dropped her phone into her purse, and glanced around to see what else she’d forgotten. “Do you miss Brutus?”

Valentine sprang to his feet and barked.

“You recognize his name? It’s more than he does.” She stroked Valentine’s head. “We’ll go to the park tomorrow and, if Daniel is there, I’ll apologize for behaving like a crazy person and say yes to dinner.” Dinner, she promised herself. Nothing more. He was attractive, and he was a dog person. That gave him extra points in her book.

She grabbed Valentine’s lead and a few dog treats, and made for the door.