The One I Want

New York has changed. Apparently, I can’t walk in the same direction as somebody else without people assuming I’m following them home. Despite how sullen the guy at the park was, I’m not letting his mood taint mine.

As I look out the window, the Manhattan streets are busy below, but the sun is shining above. It’s a beautiful spring day, and I need to make the most of it.

After giving Rascal a bath, I blow-dried his hair before returning him to his owner, Mr. Clark. I turn up the music and finish getting ready, feeling good after my shower and hoping I’ve successfully gotten rid of the smell.

Walking around the apartment, I gather my stuff.

A book to pass the time if I have to wait.

Stationery and pen to take notes.

Snack. I scribble an S on the end. A single snack would be a flat-out lie.

Wallet.

Charger.

Phone.

Mints.

I’m traveling light, except for the nonfiction book I’m bringing with me. Sometimes, these meetings take ten minutes, and sometimes, I’m left waiting for two hours. I feel better prepared. I swing the straps of my bag over my shoulder and grab my bottle of water on the way out the door.

Sixteen flights down, I enter the lobby and am greeted with a warm grin. “Good afternoon, kiddo.”

“Hi, Gil. How are you today?”

Standing, he comes around from his desk to get the door. He once told me I’d put him out of business if I kept beating him to it. I glance at the camera hanging in the top left corner that’s filming our every move and slow my pace to let Gil catch up. He’s not as fast as he used to be. He replies, “It’s a beautiful day, and the Yankees are up.”

“What inning?”

“Fifth.”

Just outside the building, I slide my sunglasses over my eyes while still under the protection of the awning. “We’ll take it.”

“Darn right, we will. Where’re you off to?”

Turning, I walk backward a few steps. “I have a meeting with the agency.”

“Good luck, Juni.”

“Thanks.” Turning back, I wave over my head. “Have a great day!”

“You too.”

Down one block, I push into the coffee shop and stand in line. My morning should have been more easygoing, but I've lost some steam after that encounter in the park. Chasing a dog who loves to escape more than Houdini was the workout I didn’t see coming.

Looking at the daily specials, I decide I’m not in the mood for anything but my usual, finding comfort in the familiar. It’s not a phrase I live by, but I remember hearing my grandmother telling me that, her voice a faint memory these days. The tears had stung as they rolled over my skin, but the warmth of my mom’s favorite sweater and the comfort of my grandmother’s hug made it better. At least that night.

When it’s my turn, I step up to the counter to place my order. “Good morning, Barry.”

“Good to see you today,” he replies. I doubt this college kid has hair on his chest, but he’s managed to develop an ego to rival most men I’ve met in this city. I guess being cute is a curse he’s learned to abuse. “Your usual?”

“Yes. Thank you.” He’s normally flirty, but I’ll take the reprieve.

Moving off to the side, I mentally tick through my week’s to-dos. For a woman with few commitments, I have a mountain of things to tackle. Nana always warned me about burning the candle at both ends. I miss her.

I reach into my bag for my phone to schedule in some fun when I hear, “Got the time?”

The deep voice is familiar. He’s standing in a suit tailored to his fit build, the medium gray fabric set nicely against a crisp white shirt and black tie. I give a half-smile, unsure if I’m under friendly fire or the warm smile is real, considering how things ended earlier. “Depends on who’s asking.”

“Good point.” Chuckling, he seems less . . . angry than he was when he called me a stalker. He’s also drop-dead gorgeous. Everything about him is put together, even his hair, which tempts me to run my fingers through it just to muss it up like it was this morning. What am I thinking?

Crossing my arms over my chest, I raise an eyebrow at him. “Is this a coincidence, or are you stalking me?”

I don’t get the laugh I was going for. Instead, his smile disappears, and shame stiffens his shoulders. “About that. I owe you an apology. I don’t know why I said that. I’ve watched too many movies, or maybe it was that weird look in your eyes.”

Reaching up, I touch the corner of one eye. “What weird look?”

“That one that silently accused me of stalking you.”

I give him a full grin as amusement works its way through me. “Serves you right.” He laughs. There’s a formality to it, but it feels natural for Mr. Uptight. “You may have thought I was nuts, but I wasn’t the one lying in the park for no reason.”