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“But what about your gran?”
“See, the thing there is, you have to play it low key.” A dark shadow crosses his face. “She’s independent, and… I don’t want her to think I’m hovering.”
“But she needs you.”
“Gran is proud and stubborn, and I drop in. I help her out. But the money… with the money I can… I can help.” He sighs. “At least a little.”
Questions push at me, but I don’t ask. Even though I desperately want to. “You should go have some fun.”
He nods, but doesn’t look at me.
The man’s a walking Adonis. Women drool over him. Myself included. He can’t be lonely.
Then again, maybe with his gran and his opting to focus on her, maybe he is. Maybe he just wants a distraction.
Because I’m suspecting it’s not just his gran is old and injured, but there’s something else there he’s not talking about.
“Magnus, I’d love some company.”
He grins and I almost demand smelling salts and swoon it’s so disarming and gorgeous. “I’ll get my coat.”
“That was…interesting. Haven’t most of them sold?”
People are out and about, going places. This isn’t a party central, happening place in Brooklyn. Too many hoods that loiter, too many empty and nailed up places.
I shrug and step over a broken bottle. “Most are in negotiations.”
“You’re the outlier. Wouldn’t it be easier for them if you sold?”
I give him a sharp look. “People who own can sell, and most have who want to just take the money and run. Others want to stay but don’t have a choice. You heard them.”
“Cities live and breathe and change. This place needs an injection.”
I stop and glare at him. “This place is having the oxygen sucked out. Let’s get this straight. The Sinclair family—whom I hate, especially this Edward who’s behind this. I’ve heard his name. The coward likes to hide behind his company name, but he’s just a pathetic man—is so rich, they don’t care about me, they don’t care about the neighborhood, they don’t care about you. They care about money.”
“You met him?”
“No. But people like him are all the same. Crush and destroy everything to make more money they don’t need. People here can’t afford to go elsewhere, but they’ll have to. Further out, probably into worse neighborhoods and those with jobs in Manhattan or around here will have to travel further. Kids will need to change schools. And people will have to either find something else or rebuild. Those who rent their buildings for businesses are also being priced out.”
He nods. “This is how the world works, Zoey. You change or you get swallowed.”
“I won’t change. I won’t get swallowed. I’ll sit there and they can damn well build around me. They won’t. I’ll be an eyesore. So—”
“Sometimes it’s easier.”
“So you’d let your gran just sit alone and you work a fancy job because it’s easier?”
A muscle ticks in his jaw, but he nods. “I see your point.”
“I’m just…” Hopeless, that’s what I am, that feeling slides through me again. I’ve been told that before. My last boyfriend hated I stayed here, hated the store. “I’m tired. It gets to me. All the sadness and anger. No one thinks they can stand up to big business.”
“But you will?”
I smile. “I’m more stubborn than you think.”
My phone buzzes. Suzanne.
And suddenly, a really stupid idea comes to me.
