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“I like it too, little bug. I like it too. It’s just the two of us now, baby.”
And I’d keep it that way.
After putting Avery to bed, I headed to the kitchen, microwaving popcorn and pouring myself a glass of wine. Dinner of champions. I sat at the round kitchen table, glancing around our new home.
Seven days ago, Gerald called, saying he needed to talk to me about something important. I was in the middle of coordinating movers and ordering furniture and hadn’t stopped to think about what that might be. Honestly, I’d just been happy that he was finally going to be in New York for longer than a few days. He was a tour guide and led groups around the world.
Two days ago, we’d met at the Northern Lights and he’d told me that he wasn’t moving in with us. That he’d met someone on one of his trips. I’d felt as if my brain had short-circuited and I’d forgotten how to breathe.
In retrospect, I should have known he wasn’t going to stick around. He’d never warmed up to the idea of the three of us, but I’d been in love and I’d wanted to offer Avery stability, especially since she didn’t even know her dad. We broke up shortly after I found out I was pregnant. He signed away all rights, because he wasn’t interested in being a parent. Fresh out of college, that had been a very difficult time for me, especially since my parents lived in Arizona. When Gerald had come along two years ago, I’d had stars in my eyes and fallen hook, line, and sinker for him. I’d jumped into the relationship with both feet. From now on, I’d do things differently.
My limbs felt a little lighter after I finished my glass of wine. It was the first break in two days. I hadn’t had time to process anything, because I’d still had to coordinate the rest of the movers and take our things out of the boxes. Mostly, though, I just wanted to block that awful evening out of my brain. Now that I wasn’t elbow-deep in boxes, I couldn’t help rewinding the details. When security had showed up, I’d used the opportunity to dart out of the bar. I’d wanted to do that as soon as I realized Gerald had asked me there to break up. Everyone within earshot had looked at me with pity, and I’d just been so blindsided that I hadn’t even known how to react. What about Avery? The apartment? I’d asked.
None of that is my responsibility.
I couldn’t believe he was just brushing us off like that. I pressed a palm on my stomach to stop feeling the knot in it. I remembered the guy who’d stepped in. A complete stranger had cared enough to ask Gerald to apologize. The longer I rewound the scene in my mind, the antsier I became. Gerald had pushed him. Crap! Was the guy okay? Why hadn’t I thought about this before?
I googled the name of the bar and called them, clasping my phone tightly.
“Northern Lights. How can I help you?” a female voice asked.
“I was wondering... I was at your bar two evenings ago. My ex-boyfriend caused a ruckus. Security stepped in.”
“I remember.”
“A man tried to intervene. My ex pushed him. Do you know if he’s okay?”
“Oh, that was Ryker. He performs here sometimes. He was okay. Nothing some ice couldn’t solve. Beer spilled all over his guitar though.”
Shit. That didn’t sound like he was okay at all.
“I’m so sorry about that. The guitar still works?”
“It was electric, so I’m not sure. He took it to a repair shop.”
Damn, I had to make it up to him. If the guitar needed replacement or repairs, I had to pay for it.
“When is he performing next?”
“Tomorrow. His set starts at eight.”
“Thank you.” I placed the phone back on the table, poured myself another glass of wine. I vaguely remembered the guy: dark blond hair, absolutely gorgeous blue eyes. Hmmm... maybe I was building him up in my mind, with a little creative help from Mr. Sauvignon Blanc here. Oh well, I’d find out tomorrow.
I twirled the glass between my fingers, looking around with a smile. I was determined to focus on all the amazing things in my life: I had an adorable girl I loved to the moon and back, a great job, and a brand-new apartment.
Welcome to the new chapter in my life!
Chapter Three
Ryker
It was Thursday, and I couldn’t wait to get on stage. The pressure on Wall Street was relentless. Having a way to let off steam was crucial, and for me, it was this. Performing for a crowd gave me the release I needed. And as an added bonus, it also gave me a chance to get out of a suit. I’d never been a fan of the financial district’s uniform. I took my guitar, stepping on stage with the other guys I usually played with: a vocalist, Josh, and a drummer, Steve.
The second my fingers strummed over the cords, my muscles loosened, the strain leaving my body. All thoughts of Wall Street drifted to the back of my mind. The company was in hot water because one of the other investment directors had just been fired for screwing over a client to maximize his own bonus. Everyone was worried about the company’s image. I was too, but I was also pissed that the client was now in financial trouble because of a greedy moron. As I’d predicted, the bruised cheek earned me glares from colleagues and clients alike.
Tension was high, but now it was just me and the guitar, the music. The crowd was thinner than usual tonight. I scanned the room, soaking in the energy of the place, of the patrons dancing to our beat. My gaze rested on a petite woman leaning against the bar.
Were my eyes playing tricks because I’d wanted to find her so badly, or was my mystery woman in the crowd? No, there she was: brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, smiling and drumming her fingers on the counter. I scanned those around her quickly. Douchebag wasn’t anywhere in sight. Fuck, yes.
