Love the One You Hate

“Maren,” he says, and I turn over my left shoulder to see him leaning against the brick wall, a few feet away from the hotel’s front entrance.

It hasn’t even been a full week since I last saw him, but I take him in slowly all the same, appreciating the way electricity zings through my body as he pushes off the wall and starts to walk toward me. Tall, confident, sure of himself, Nicholas holds my note in his hand, the one with my new phone number on it.

“What are you doing here?” he asks with an amused smile.

I rock back on my heels and try to affect a very casual tone. “Oh, actually, I think I live here now.”

His brows rise in shock. Then quickly, his eyes dart to the hotel as if he thinks I mean I live here, at this very address.

I smile and tilt my head. “Well not here, exactly. New York City.” I wave my arm to encompass the street around me, enveloping everything in my reach. “I’m not quite sure where I’ll end up, but I have a plan.”

“Can I hear about it?”

He nods his head down the sidewalk and takes half a step back. It’s an invitation to walk beside him, and I don’t hesitate.

Together, we turn onto 65th Street, and he asks me if I’m hungry. I say I’m starved. He unfurls a wolfish grin and tells me he knows just the place. Twenty minutes later, we’re standing outside his building. Barry graciously holds the door open for us.

“You’re back! And you found her!”

He grins, genuinely excited as if we’re all old friends.

“Yes, thank you, Barry,” Nicholas says as he presses his hand to my lower back and guides me into the lobby. We ride the elevator up to the eleventh floor and when we exit, I’m surprised to find there’s no hallway leading to different apartments. We’re in a foyer that leads directly to his front door.

“Does your apartment take up the whole floor?”

“Yes. The whole building is set up that way,” he says, as if it’s not his fault he has a massive apartment in New York City. I can’t help but laugh as he unlocks his door and guides me inside.

My chest tightens as I take it in. It’s everything I expected, and yet still, somehow, more. It seems to go on forever in every direction. Dining room, living room, kitchen, hallways leading to God knows where—perhaps China?

“How many bedrooms do you have here?”

“Five.”

“Jesus.”

“It’s been in our family forever,” he says, trying to make it seem more reasonable.

“But everything looks so new,” I argue, tipping my head back to look up at the decadent chandelier hanging overhead.

“I had it renovated a few years ago.”

I turn in a circle, watching the twinkling light bounce off the walls.

“I’d give you a tour, but it’ll have to wait. I want to talk about the box you left me.”

I look back down as he walks into the living room. My shoebox sits on the coffee table there, unopened.

“Did you look inside?” I ask.

“Yes. That’s how I found you.”

I frown in confusion.

“The hotel’s name was on the stationery you used,” he explains as he sets the note on the table beside the box.

I nod, only now realizing that.

“Why didn’t you cash any of these?” he asks, pointing toward the box before he turns to look back at me.

I’ve seen Nicholas in a million different ways. With the wind whipping his hair on his sailboat. Seated across from me at a formal dinner as we battle it out. Among friends and acquaintances.

Never have I seen him with his guard down like this. He stands with his heart on his sleeve, waiting for my answer, and I walk toward him, hoping to put his mind at ease. My first instinct is to touch him somehow—take his hand, wrap my arms around his waist—but it doesn’t seem appropriate given the topic at hand. For a moment, at least, this is about business.

“Well, first of all, it didn’t seem right. Cornelia liked to say I was her employee, but you and I both know what I did at Rosethorn hardly counted as work.”

“I disagree. You helped her a great deal.”

“Well, even if that is the case, she more than paid for my labor with other things. Room and board, for one. All those clothes and gifts. That trip to Paris.” I shrug. “It just didn’t feel right to take her money on top of all that.”

“So then why did you bring them here? Why leave them for me?”

“Well…now is where I’m about to contradict myself. I need your help with something.”

“Anything,” he says, not missing a beat.

I bite back a smile and shake my head. “It’s something related to your work, and I know you’re already so busy. I don’t want to take advantage. So, I thought maybe I could pay for your services.”