Page 20 of Forbidden Romeo
Her gaze narrows creating little lines at the corners that I’m sure she’d quickly shoot up with Botox if only she saw them. “Fine. Then no Megan.”
“Wait,” I add. “I mean it when I say I don’t want to be your enemy. I have a friend and he’s a brilliant writer developing a new show. A contemporary Romeo and Juliet retelling. Keith?—”
“Landry,” she finishes. “You know Keith Landry? Of course.”
“It’s a good show. Not a musical. But I know he’s searching for his next Julie. I can’t guarantee anything, and I certainly can’t promise you the part. But I can set up a meeting between you two. And who knows… if you’re not right for Remy and Julie, he might keep you in mind for something else.”
She folds her arms and levels me with another look. “And what’s to stop me from setting up this meeting myself and still posting the headline?”
“Because Keith is my friend. He trusts me. And if I tell him you lied, went back on your word, he’d never cast you in anything. We’ve both been down that road once before and he’s intent to only work with well-intentioned people.”
While Missy didn’t exactly fit that description, I meant what I’d said. I didn’t want to be her enemy anymore. I didn’t need to be her friend, either. But we could be something else entirely. We could be cordial. Professional.
Missy crossed to a small desk in the corner and grabbed her phone. After a quick moment, a text message pinged in my inbox with an airdropped message. “That’s Meg’s address here in New York.”
I suck in a sharp breath and stare at the East Village address. This whole time, Megan had been right under Holden’s nose, in his own city, potentially with his son.
I turn to run back onto the elevators, hearing the click of Missy’s footsteps behind me. As I get onto the elevator, her hand juts out, stopping the doors. “Don’t fuck me, Galinda.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Elphie.”
She releases her hold on the elevator and as the gold doors glide shut, I swear I see a little smile curve on her mouth.
I take the subway all the way down to first and first, then walk about fifteen blocks further east into Alphabet City. Decades ago, this used to be one of the scariest parts of New York; now it’s littered with hipsters and trustafarians. Bougie coffee shops line the streets as I walk toward Avenue D and a cute little playground is on the corner as my phone tells me my destination is only just ahead.
“Jamie!” A woman shouts from a bench overlooking the playground. “Not so high!”
“Aw, Mom!” a kid cries from the swings.
I blink, my footsteps halting. It… it can’t be.
Jamie… Jamie, the little boy with Holden’s chestnut brown hair and amber eyes.
And Megan. The woman who will be forever blended with whatever family Holden and I make.
She’s here, in front of me.
And I don’t even have to explain how I got her address. This could be a coincidence. I could be hanging out in the East Village, visiting a friend for all she knows.
I exit out of the destination on my maps app and stuff my phone deep into my purse, inhaling a slow, steadying breath, readying myself to go up to her.
A baritone male voice tears me out of my meditation. “I got you a lavender latte with almond milk.”
I know that voice.
I pry my eyes open in time to see Holden walking up to the bench with Megan and handing her a coffee cup from a tray.
“You remembered,” she says with a smile, tucking her hair behind her ear.
“Of course. And I got a hot chocolate for the little guy.”
The world around me spins. The ground is replaced with the sky as I watch Jamie launch off of the swings and run toward Holden. “Hot chocolate!?”
He’s here.
He’s here with Megan.
And he didn’t tell me.