Summer and the City (The Carrie Diaries 2)

“Carrie Bradshaw, sir.” I hold out my hand.

“How divine,” he squeals. “I haven’t been called ‘sir’ since I was in short pants. Not that I ever was in short pants. Where have you been hiding this delightful young person?”

“I found her on my doorstep.”

“Did you arrive in a basket like Moses?” he asks.

“Train,” I reply.

“And what brings you to the Emerald City?”

“Oh.” I smile. And taking Samantha’s advice to heart, I quickly blurt out, “I’m going to become a famous writer.”

“Like Kenton!” he exclaims.

“Kenton James?” I ask breathlessly.

“Is there any other? He should be here somewhere. If you trip across a very small man with a voice like a miniature poodle, you’ll know you’ve found him.”

In the next second, David Ross is halfway across the room and Samantha is sitting on a strange man’s lap.

“Over here.” She waves from the couch.

I push past a woman in a white jumpsuit. “I think I just saw my first Halston!”

“Is Halston here?” Samantha asks.

If I’m at the same party with Halston and Kenton James, I’m going to die. “I meant the jumpsuit.”

“Oh, the jumpsuit,” she says with exaggerated interest to the man beneath her. From what I can see of him, he’s tan and sporty, sleeves rolled up over his forearms.

“You’re killing me,” he says.

“This is Carrie Bradshaw. She’s going to be a famous writer,” Samantha says, taking up my moniker as if it’s suddenly fact.

“Hello, famous writer.” He holds out his hand, the fingers narrow and burnished like bronze.

“This is Bernard. The idiot I didn’t sleep with last year,” she jokes.

“Didn’t want to be another notch in your belt,” Bernard drawls.

“I’m not notching anymore. Don’t you know?” She holds out her left hand for inspection. An enormous diamond glitters from her ring finger. “I’m engaged.”

She kisses the top of Bernard’s dark head and looks around the room. “W

ho do I have to spank to get a drink around here?”

“I’ll go,” Bernard volunteers. He stands up and for one inexplicable moment, it’s like watching my future unfold.

“C’mon, famous writer. Better come with me. I’m the only sane person here.” He puts his hands on my shoulders and steers me through the crowd.

I look back at Samantha, but she only smiles and waves, that giant sparkler catching the last rays of sunlight. How did I not notice that ring before?

Guess I was too busy noticing everything else.

Like Bernard. He’s tall and has straight dark hair. A large, crooked nose. Hazel-green eyes and a face that changes from mournful to delighted every other second, as if he has two personalities pulling him in opposite directions.

I can’t fathom why he’s paying me so much attention, but I’m mesmerized. People keep coming up and congratulating him, while snippets of conversation waft around my head like dandelion fluff.