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CHAPTER 1

The Annoyingly Attractive Neighbor

Claire Bennett had spent half of her life imagining what her first night in her dream apartment would feel like. Ever since she was seventeen, she knew one day she would make it to the city. To this moment. Here. Now.

Move to New York City. That had been the goal as long as she could remember. Get a fancy corporate job and move into a luxury apartment. Just like the movies.

And here she was, at twenty-seven, her first night in the apartment. She had spent yesterday directing the movers and hauling boxes in. Tonight was her official first night staying in her new home.

She thought that the first night would be glamorous. Perfect. Everything she dreamed of. Straight out of a Pinterest board or a movie scene.

But that wasn’t life, was it?

Her reality was that she was currently sitting on the floor of her brand-new living room surrounded by half-opened boxes, eating salt and vinegar chips while waiting on her food delivery, because she couldn’t remember which box contained her plates.

Plus, she didn’t really have groceries. She had exactly one yogurt, strawberries, oat milk, and unrealistic expectations she would have time to get groceries amidst unpacking, all before starting her new job.

She stood up, smoothing her shirt. She opened another box and groaned. Kitchen utensils. But no plates. Three boxes later, the plates still had not been located.

The apartment was beautiful, really. It was exactly what she had wanted. A kitchen with sleek, white countertops she was terrified to scratch. Hardwood floors that made every piece of furniture look more expensive than it actually was.

On the counter sat an expensive espresso machine she spent months saving for. After all, fancy city girls drink fancy coffee. They don’t use a Keurig.

She had a candle burning on her coffee table and a partially assembled bookshelf that would soon hold a perfect, neat display of books. Currently, those books were in a box. In the windowsill sat a small plant she was trying desperately to keep alive.

Most importantly, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked Central Park, giving her a view that made her feel like she had finally arrived somewhere she was always meant to be.

She had arrived somewhere. That was the point. A fresh start. New apartment. New job. New Claire.

It was everything she had been working towards, so why did she feel like she still had no idea what she was doing? Her dreams were coming true. It was supposed to feel different.

She walked over to the windows. She had an incredible view of Central Park.

“I actually did it,” she whispered to nobody.

She glanced at the clock. 7:47 p.m.

The old Claire would have stayed up all night unpacking, preparing to start her new job, and convincing herself she didn’t need sleep when she could have espresso instead.

The new Claire had a system.

Step one: Survive difficult days.

Step two: Reward herself with something small. Usually a coffee.

Step three: Do not interact with anyone until she had recovered.

She had completed step one. The day was practically over.

Step two was currently on its way. Chinese food.

Step three was about to become impossible. Because her phone buzzed.

Your Dasher is approaching with your order.

Finally. Chinese food was the one luxury she allowed herself after carrying approximately seventeen boxes up from the lobby and realizing her movers had apparently decided “fragile” was a suggestion.

Claire stood, stretched, and looked around her apartment. She should have felt accomplished.