New York Billionaires Series

“That’s good,” he murmurs. “But Freddie, why would I laugh at that?”

“Because I fell five feet.”

His eyebrows rise and I shake my head at him. “I know, it’s nothing. I climbed higher trees than that all the time. But after that, I stopped, and somehow the fear just grew and grew in my head.”

Tristan presses a kiss to my forehead. “We all have scars. I won’t judge where yours came from.”

“And what would-” The shrill sound of my cell phone cuts off my response. It’s jarring and sharp in this little bubble we’ve created.

I fly off the bed and fumble through my handbag for the offensive thing, all while Tristan is watching me.

It’s Toby. “Hey?”

“Freddie!” he calls. “Where are you? You said you’d join us at the bar!”

Someone cuts in, and then I recognize Quentin’s voice. “Please come save me from having to talk to any more strangers. I’m all strangered out.”

“Did you hear that?” Toby asks. “Quentin said please! Where are you?”

“In my hotel room.”

“What? Are you feeling okay?”

“Yes, yes, I’m not-”

“Good! Either you’re joining us or we’re coming to get you!”

“I’ll be right there,” I hear myself saying, reaching for my discarded dress on the floor. “Buy me a drink.”

Toby hoots. “The bar next to the hotel. We’ll save you a seat!”

“See you soon.” I click off and scramble in search of my underwear. Toby and Quentin’s voices in my ear were like a slap of reality, a cold bucket of water. The entire conference center, not to mention the hotel, is crawling with people we know. People who are all too eager to put two and two together and arrive at twenty-eight.

“Heading out?” Tristan asks. He’s lying on the bed, an arm behind his head and a knee bent, like nothing bothers him. But his face is unreadable again.

Have I jeopardized everything? Not just my job, but the two of us, too. The budding friendship, the way he looked at me in my apartment just a few days ago. That look is gone at the moment.

“Yes,” I say. “We can’t have people knowing about this.”

“They’re not in this hotel room with us.”

“No, but they are in the hotel.” I shimmy into my dress, and he watches me struggle with the zipper in silence. Why on earth had I decided to do this at a work conference?

Had people seen me following him up to the roof?

He watches me search for my panties. He’d tossed them to the side, but the carpet is infuriatingly panty-free.

“Over there,” he mutters, pointing to the chairs in the corner. My bright-red lace panties hang off the edge of one. A blush creeps up my cheeks as I shimmy them up my legs and beneath my dress.

“I’m sorry I have to run so fast,” I tell him. “I just, I don’t…”

“You don’t want them to suspect anything,” he finishes. “I get it. We’ll talk later.”

I give him my widest smile, but even I can hear the faint panic that flavors my voice. “Thank you.”

He nods. “Go.”

So I do, the door shutting behind me with a solid thud. The corridor is still empty, and nobody sees me race for the elevators in an attempt to get off a floor I have no business being on.

“We could get Grandma another set of knitting needles. She likes that,” Joshua comments. He kicks at a stray lump of snow on the sidewalk, one of the final remnants from last weekend’s weather.

“That’s not a bad idea,” I say. “Perhaps a pattern book. String, too, maybe. Or is it yarn?”

“You’re just making stuff up, Dad. You have no idea how to knit.”

I grip his shoulder, giving him a playful shake. “Who made you an expert, huh?”NôvelDrama.Org holds text © rights.

He laughs and pushes away from me, grinning under the thick head of curls. “I know a ton of things. Like I know I’ll get another sweater from her!”

“Oh, you sure will. Makes sense, too, since we’re going somewhere cold for Christmas.”

It takes a moment, but then his face lights up as he gets the joke. We’ve been working on sarcasm and irony.

“Do you have any clever ideas for what Linda might want?” I ask him. “You were there just last night.”

His godmother had been my sister’s best friend, and after Jenny died, she’s stepped in as often as she can. Despite having two kids of her own, she’d helped me navigate the first few years of parenthood in a way that made her more god than godmother in my eyes.

Joshua takes a moment to think. “She complained about the dishwasher.”

“You want us to give Linda a new dishwasher? She’d love that.” As often as I can, I’ve tried to let Linda and her husband know I’m here to help just as much as they are with me.

I reach out and tug Joshua’s jacket back in place. It’s cold out. He lets me, despite hating how snugly it fits around his neck. “You’ll be in charge of what we buy her kids,” I tell him. “I’m delegating that to you.”

His smile is back. “Really?”

“Absolutely.” Well, within reason. But he knows better than me what they’d like, not to mention this Christmas shopping expedition should be fun. Another notch in my grand scheme of creating more holiday memories.

Jenny and I used to bake gingerbread cookies with Mom the night before Christmas. We’d race down the steps the next morning to the Christmas tree, one side of it decorated with our ornaments and the other side with Mom’s collectibles.

A pang of familiar guilt hits me. Joshua looks just as he always does, walking next to me with a bounce in his step. But he’s never known what it’s like to have a sibling or two parents. All he’ll remember of his childhood is me, and I’m not Jenny and Michael.

“Look!” Joshua says. “It’s the elephant lady!”

I’m so focused on him that I don’t notice who’s walking towards us until he points her out. Freddie’s coat is bundled tight around her body, a hat pulled low over her dark hair. Her feet are in giant boots, unlike anything I’ve seen her wear in the office. Gone are the sleek skirts and heels.

It’s a Saturday, and we live in the same neighborhood.

Her gaze drifts from mine to Joshua’s, and then a smile spreads on her face. “Hi there!”