Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Bennett comes over and we hug.
“Thanks for coming,” I say.
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
People start moving toward the ballroom and I brace myself. If Caroline and I are sitting near each other, we’re likely to bump into each other sooner rather than later.
Jules squeezes my hand. “Do you know what table we’re at?” she asks.
“Four. We’re at the front.”
We enter the ballroom and Jules glances around. I’ve been here countless times before, but fresh eyes give it new perspective. It’s very classic, old money New York. Crystal chandeliers, Grecian columns, gold leaf detail on the plasterwork. It’s so different from the developments I bring to the market. But this version of New York, built on generations of inherited wealth, is fading away.
“I bet these guys don’t have a problem booking weddings,” she says, and I smile at her understatement.
“Yeah, I don’t think the Plaza is too worried about their events calendar.”
“Maybe I’ll come and manage this place,” she says, grinning. I don’t bite, offering only an eye roll in response. I see our table and nod toward it. “There we are.”
Just as we get to our seats, I see some movement out of the corner of my eye. I don’t sit immediately. Instead, I slide my arm around Jules’ waist and brace.
I turn slightly and see Caroline’s father, Frank, coming toward me. “Leo!” he calls, lumbering toward us at speed. I hold out my free hand to shake his as he gets to us. “The man of the moment!”
“Have you met my fiancée?” I ask him. “Jules Moore.”
“Delighted,” he says, shaking Jules’ hand. “I have to introduce you to my son-in-law and daughter.” He turns and cranes his neck, beckoning someone over.
“At least we can get this bit over with before the food and your award,” Jules says beside me.
I chuckle. “That’s one way of looking at it.”
“Grant, let me introduce you to Leo Hart,” Frank says. Grant and I shake hands. “Caroline, this is Leo Hart.”
She narrows her eyes for a split second, as if she’s looking for confirmation that I’m who she thinks I am. She hasn’t changed much. She’s a little thinner. More polished. Her hair’s a little blonder. I’m waiting for the wrecking ball to knock me on my arse, but it doesn’t come. I’m tense, but nothing more. Maybe it will come later. Perhaps a knot in my gut will appear over dinner. Maybe a faint whisper of memory will settle over me as I collect my award. At the moment, though, I don’t feel anything.
“Leo!” she caws. “So good to see you.” She raises her arms slightly, like she’s expecting a good-to-see-you hug. I tighten my arm around Jules’ waist and offer my hand to shake as I kiss her cheek. “Leo and I are old friends,” Caroline says. “Knew each other when we were kids.” She smiles and it’s full of genuine warmth, like she doesn’t even remember how things ended between us.
“Really?” Grant asks. “Such a small world.”
Far too fucking small. I could have happily lived without this moment for the rest of my life.
“This is my fiancée, Jules Moore,” I say, and Jules shakes everyone’s hands.
“We should all get together for dinner,” Caroline says. “Catch up. It’s been a minute.”
“We’d love to,” Jules says, a little too quickly. She’s probably concerned I might tell them to shove their dinners up their arse. I wouldn’t, because I’ve prepared myself for this moment for far too long. But I’m still grateful that she speaks, because I wouldn’t have been able to get the words out. Even though I don’t want to be rude, I can’t bring myself to pretend away what happened between us. I don’t experience a rush of feeling for or about Caroline, but the incredible shitty-ness of what she did washes over me like it happened just yesterday. She’s a bitch.
“I’ve been following your career for a while now,” Grant says.
I nod, not sure if he’s bullshitting me or not. It doesn’t matter. It’s not like we’re ever going to do business with him.
“You’ve really done some amazing work. The stuff in Harlem looks incredible. I’d love to get a tour at some point.”
“New River is incredible,” Frank says. “You should definitely go and see it. It’s going to change that part of New York forever. It will bring new life to the place. The finishes are second to none.”
“Sales have launched, so if you have buyers, Annabelle Swain’s team would love to hear from you,” I say.
“I’m sure we have buyers,” Grant says. “If we bring enough of them, maybe we’ll get to be the agents on your next development.”
Grant is a typical agent. Pushy. Underinformed. But it gives me a sense of satisfaction that I don’t answer him with a commitment either way. He’ll take hope from that, just as Frank always has. It means he’ll waste energy and effort trying to win my business when I’ll never work with him.