Page 3 of Manhattan Kiss

I’ve ignored the last few calls, but something about being so cold, something about the babysitting last night, something about life, makes me accept the call.

“Hello?” My tone is tentative.

“Good morning, Ms. Reynolds, it’s Avril Worthington from the Hotel on Ninth Street. Is now a good time to talk?”

I’ve told her that I’m not going to move across the ocean for a job. I’ve been clear.

But maybe she’s going to tell me she’s opening a hotel in Chilternshire.

You never know.

“Yes, I’m just making myself a cup of tea. Please call me Aurora.”

“Great. It’s good to connect again. I know you’ve already told us you don’t want to move, but I just wanted to have one more conversation with you before we gave up!” She laughs.

I like Avril. She’s not the kind of New Yorker you read about. Although I don’t read about New Yorkers very much. My only real reference point is Sex and the City. But Avril isn’t like any of those girls. I suppose she’s like a more exciting Charlotte, if I was forced to pick one.

“I’m always happy to talk to you, Avril,” I say. “I’m sorry I’ve missed a couple of calls.”

“I know you’re busy. It’s why I’m up at six on a Sunday to try and find a time when you’re around.”

“I’m flattered. But I feel bad that you’re destroying your sleep for me. I’m not sure I can tell you anything new.” The kettle boils, and I fill up my cup with my nettle tea bag in it. I take my mug with me as I pad into the small sitting room. I refuse to make a fire in May. I just refuse, but I have a heated blanket that I switch on and pull over me as I sit in the small armchair, which has faded roses all over it.

She sighs. “Obviously we don’t want you to do anything that you don’t want to do. We don’t want to fly you to New York, only for you to hate it. So Poppy and I have been talking, and we wondered if you’d come and do three months with us. Just over the summer.”

It was the last thing I was expecting her to say. I thought she’d tell me how she was in the process of opening a second hotel in New York, and she and her sister wanted me to join as director of rooms and deputy manager, on the basis that they’d quickly want me to move up to hotel manager. That’s what our conversations have always been about. We’ve spoken three or four times, and they always flatter me with their experiences at The Rookery when they stayed for a friend’s wedding. Then they tell me they’ve done their own due diligence—whatever that means. And how they think I’ll fit perfectly into their family business.

“I know you’ve been clear about not wanting to leave your friends and family, but this gives you an opportunity to see if you can stay in touch with them and have your own adventure.”

My own adventure. The words echo in my head.

My own adventure. Not always being available while everyone else had their own adventures. An adventure of my own.

I’ve been orbiting Darcy’s world for so long now, I’m used to being a secondary character in our story. Darcy’s the daughter of a duke, the bride, the mother. I just got to witness it all. I got to hold her hand and support her through the highs and lows.

Sometimes I feel like I’m missing out. And then I feel bad for not focusing on the fact that my friend is going through all these wonderful life events. I would just like something to be about me. I’d like a wonderful life event of my own.

For years I’ve been doing the same thing, living in the same place, working at the same hotel…and I’ve been having the exact same experience.

I want things to be different. New. Exciting.

Avril is offering me a three-month break from being a spectator in other people’s lives. Isn’t this what I’ve been waiting for? It’s an opportunity to do something for myself. And it’s not like I have to commit to a permanent move. It’s just a summer.

I always assumed my path would be just like Darcy’s—I’d get married to the love of my life and then have children. But now, with the doctor’s warning that motherhood is almost certainly not in my future, I have to figure out what my new path is.

If I stay where I am, doing what I’m doing, aren’t I destined to just get more of the same? I’d read some post on Instagram this week that if you keep doing what you’re doing, you’ll keep getting what you’re getting.

It makes perfect sense. If you put all the same ingredients in the mixture, you’ll come out with the same cake every time. But if you change the ingredients, the cake will come out differently.

“Three months?” I ask. “How would that work, exactly?”

“Well,” Avril says. “Our hope is that you’ll fall in love with our hotel and you’ll stay longer once you realize how special it is and how exciting New York is. So we’d onboard you as if you’re going to stay the rest of your career.” She laughs, but my stomach turns over and over.

“But it would only be for three months,” I say.

“Yes, absolutely. If that’s what you want. And we won’t be upset if you decide to leave after three months. But we’d want you to have the best experience and really know the hotel. So we’d rotate you through all the departments, so you’d have a real in-depth knowledge. Because really, we’d be onboarding a general manager.”

“But the role I’d be coming in to do would be director of rooms, right?”