Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62197 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62197 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Seventeen
Noa
This was not a night that I wanted to go out on. Especially in Manhattan. The tourists had started pouring in the day after Christmas, and as the week went on, it had just gotten worse. All leading up to the streets packed with over one million people in and around Times Square. While the square was almost three miles away, the nightlife in NoHo brought its own crowd.
But since I’d lied about COVID and I had extreme guilt about that, I couldn’t tell Jellie no when she told me they would be in town tonight. Zeke had a friend with reservations for the VIP party at the Marriott Marquis with terrace viewing of the ball drop. Which was not the easiest place to get into on New Year’s Eve. The hotel had an excellent view of the ball drop without being on the packed streets. She had claimed one of those VIP tickets for me and not really given me an option to say no.
They weren’t staying at the hotel itself because it was booked solid. But they were staying a few blocks away in Midtown. She’d wanted me to come there, but it was either walk the two miles and get ready there or get ready at home and take the subway. Traffic would be so congested, so taking a taxi was out of the question. I’d decided to just get dressed here and take the subway.
Under different circumstances, I would have cause to celebrate. I’d managed to write fifteen thousand words this week. It had been a struggle to get going at first because of Ransom’s middle-of-the-night booty call and then return to complete silence. Once the words had started coming though, they had begun to flow. The angst in this one was unlike anything I’d written before, and I was excited about that. Writing heart-wrenching scenes helped me express my own pain, and I was finding that it was therapeutic.
Checking myself one more time in my full-length mirror, I decided that this dress was the best option for tonight. Jellie had said to wear something gold or black, but I didn’t own anything gold. I had some black dresses, but none that felt festive. She was going to have to be happy with silver. I’d bought it for a gala last December that raised money for Project Night Night—a charity that provided a new book, a security blanket, and a stuffed animal to homeless children under the age of twelve. Although I didn’t much care for galas, I’d gone to that one because Project Night Night was one of the charities I donated to monthly. Although I hadn’t been a homeless child, I’d loved to read, and thanks to the school library, I could feed my love. It was an escape from my reality. Books had saved me. I knew the power they held.
Walking over to the dresser, I picked up the earrings I’d chosen for tonight and put them on. My eyes kept going back to the drawer where I’d put the necklace Ransom had left me. I hated everything that necklace represented. But it was the most gorgeous piece of jewelry I’d ever owned. Even if I did want to wear it, I couldn’t put that on and ride the subway. That was asking to get mugged. The thing probably cost twenty-five grand or something ridiculous like that. If Ransom ever showed back up, I intended to shove it at him and tell him to leave.
I’d actually imagined the scene several times. Mostly while standing in the shower, crying.
The sound that alerted me that someone was downstairs, wanting to get in to see me, went off, and I paused, frowning in its direction, then quickly made my way toward the camera to see who it was.
Who would be here on a night like tonight?
I stopped walking before I reached it when Thurston’s face popped into my head. I did not want to deal with him. And I was not about to bring him along with me. He’d been quiet, and I had been thankful for that. I hoped he had gotten the message.
The sound went off again. Would Jellie have come here? Why would she do that though? She hated the subway, and she wouldn’t want to walk the two miles. But then she might think I would back out at the last minute, so she could have braved the subway for that.
Reluctantly, I went to see who it was, just in case it was her.
The sight of Birch standing outside my building—wearing a slim-fit charcoal-gray suit with a black shirt and his normally slightly wavy, dark hair slicked back in a low ponytail—was not what I’d expected to find.
“What the hell?” I muttered, then hit the talk button.
“Are you lost?” I asked him.
He smirked. “I was in the neighborhood.”