Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 135847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
“No.”
At my short answer, his eyes narrowed. “Are you actually busy, or did you lie about being pissed at me about something?”
I sure as hell wasn’t going to admit that the crush he’d cured me of came back, and then some, with how awesome he was facing off against Oskar and sharing honestly about himself over dinner and closed-mouth kissing better than other men could French. And then he lowkey ghosts me and takes another woman out to dinner, which obliterated the crush yet again.
I wasn’t going to tell him it didn’t feel great to be at the whim of when he ran hot, and then thought it was okay to leave me out in the cold.
No, I sure as hell wasn’t going to share any of that.
“I’m not pissed at you about anything. I just need to prepare because I’m filming a segment this afternoon. And word of warning, I’ll be talking about your friends Jamie and Nora. And I’m also going to be digging into why Teddy Mankowitz caved on a younger man/older woman storyline on Rita’s Way, but now, with the resurgence of feminism, he’s using Imogen Swan, who was his ingénue on that show, to exploit that very same concept.”
His face grew wary. “People love Genny’s new show. It’s insanely popular.”
“It’s still women’s stories as written by a man.”
“Rita’s Way was thirty years ago.”
“They did a lot of groundbreaking storylines on that show but capitulated at the idea of making a middle-aged woman not only sexual, but sexually attractive to a younger man. We learn lessons from exploring the past, Hale.”
He stared at me intently as he noted in a low voice, “I see I have Elsa Cohen back, and she’s keeping my Elsa under wraps.”
His Elsa?
He’d been in the same damned city as me (essentially) for three days, and he hadn’t so much as texted to say, Sorry, things are crazy, but I’m thinking about you.
His Elsa, my ass.
The goddamned nerve.
“There’s only one me, Hale,” I informed him coolly. “If you like the idea of splitting me into personalities you find palatable, and those you don’t, that’s on you. But I’m all Elsa Cohen all the time, and proud of it.”
“I see,” he said in a soft, flat voice.
“I’m glad,” I replied in an icy one.
He abruptly stood. “More news, Ms. Cohen. I’ve hired a new management company for the apartment building, and not only will the security system and elevator be replaced, a total refurbishment of common areas will be taking place. And we’re relocating the tenant in the first-floor apartment that’s closest to the lobby. That’ll be repurposed into a studio where an onsite super can live, with a secure room for mailboxes where packages can be left. Apparently, there was a great deal of theft due to the door always being open, so most people were forced either to rent post office boxes, or have friends or family accept packages for them.”
With his “Ms. Cohen,” I was seeing why he didn’t like me calling him Mr. Wheeler.
But I wasn’t going to get into that.
Nor was I going to share my gratitude, since I had to have my packages mailed to Mom and Dad’s for this exact reason.
Instead, I remarked frostily, “I assume we can look forward to rent increases too.”
“No,” he clipped. “With current rents, my investment in that building will pay for itself in twenty-four months. I don’t need to gouge my tenants simply because I’m offering basic amenities and clean corridors. And you even asking that question states how clearly you don’t know me.”
“We had a fake date, Hale. I’d hardly claim to know you.”
“A fake date?” he whispered in a way even I, who saw a photo of him holding hands with another woman just the night before, felt tighten around my heart.
Indeed, we had a single date (that, okay, wasn’t fake) and a kiss, and he’d made no promises of exclusivity.
Even so…
Was he for real?
He thought he could walk into my office after holding hands with another woman not twenty-four hours before, and think I’d fall over myself to have coffee with him before he jets out of my life for some other port he probably has some other woman (or women) in?
I felt my safest bet was keeping my mouth shut.
This I did.
“I guess you got what you wanted,” he said in that same awful voice, and at his tone and his words, I couldn’t stop my flinch. “Take care of yourself.”
“You as well,” I replied blandly.
He stared at me a second, as if giving me the chance to stop him.
I remained silent.
Then he walked out of my office.
The way he did it, without looking back, I knew he’d also just walked out of my life.
And that hurt, way more than it should.
CHAPTER 8
ELSA COHEN HAS ARRIVED
Elsa
Two days later…