The overzealous cab driver veers around a wayward pedestrian, slamming my head against the window. I groan, gripping the sore spot, but my smile doesn’t fade. How could it? I’m back home. In the city that never sleeps. Because who wants to sleep when you’re in a place this spectacular?
I’ve already dropped my bags off in the lobby of Brynn’s apartment building and asked Sharon, the doorman—door person?—to watch Whiskers for me, since she said neither Ethan nor Brynn were home. I’d considered letting myself inside with the key I’d never given back, but I didn’t want to presume, especially since Brynn and I technically haven’t spoken since our fight before I left.
Of course, I realize that showing up unannounced at her place of employment is a risky move. And I fully accept that my choice in attire will lead to a healthy dose of public humiliation. But I honestly don’t care. It’s time for the grand gesture, like in every romantic comedy I’ve ever watched. Except, in this scenario, I’m not winning back my leading man. Not yet, anyway. This time, I’m wooing my best friend. Let’s just hope this story has a happy ending.
I hop out of the cab and immediately garner several sneering glances. Admittedly, my T-shirt is a bit too tight and a little too short. And the poorly placed handprints are borderline inappropriate now that I’ve passed puberty. But still, haven’t New Yorkers seen worse than my tacky tie-dyed tee from camp?
Ignoring the raised eyebrows, I push through the revolving front door and make a beeline for the lobby receptionist.
“Can I help you?” She frowns at the palm prints on my chest, and I’m tempted to say, “Hey, lady, my eyes are up here.” Instead, I manage a smile. “The offices of Richmond and Fairfax Financials, please.”
Her eyes widen in surprise, and I’m guessing I’m not their usual clientele. “Um, eighth floor.”
“Thank you.” I endure an awkward elevator ride with two men in slick suits who seem to think their stares are subtle. To block their view, I cross my arms in front of my chest, even though the action brings my shoulders up to my ears. When the doors slide open, I dash out as quickly as if the cables had just been cut and the giant metal box was about to plummet into oblivion.
Lifting my chin, I stride into Richmond and Fairfax Financials with as much self-confidence as I can muster given the circumstances. Brynn’s workplace is as glossy and glamorous as I’d imagined—all white, crisp, and polished to perfection, without a single paper clip out of place. And the staff looks sleek and sophisticated, the epitome of New York City professionalism—aka the exact opposite of my appearance at the moment.
The slender, impeccably dressed receptionist plasters on a polite smile when I approach her pristine desk. “Hello. Do you have an appointment?”
“Uh, not exactly. I’m here to see Brynn Delaney.”
“Oh.” She looks disappointed, like she’d expected me to admit I’d just woken up from a twenty-year coma and accidentally wandered into their building. “I’m sorry. She just left.”
My face falls, and for some reason, she takes pity on me—the poor, fashion-challenged amnesiac—and adds, “But she’s only one floor up, at the coffee cart on the terrace. You can probably catch her there.”
“Thank you, thank you!” I gush before rushing back to the elevator.
Thankfully, I’m alone this time and enjoy the thirty second gawk-free zone until the doors open on the next floor, revealing the fanciest looking cafeteria I’ve ever seen. Through a long wall of windows, I spot the terrace—a large outdoor space with cozy seating and a breathtaking view of the city. There’s a coffee cart stationed near the stone perimeter, and as I approach, I spot Brynn pouring a sugar packet into a paper cup. Oliver stands beside her, one hand on the small of her back as he leans in to whisper something in her ear.
I instantly freeze, mesmerized by the startling exchange. I wait for Brynn to pull away and shirk off his hand, but she laughs softly, gazing up at him with an expression of open affection. There’s an undeniable intimacy between them that transcends the bond of coworkers, even friendship, and I’m stunned into a silent stupor. Obviously, I missed something monumental in the handful of days I was back in LA, and my heart sinks with regret.
As they move away from the cart with their coffee—Oliver’s hand still poised on Brynn’s lower back—she catches my eye. For a moment, neither of us moves, speaks, or even blinks. We simply stare like a couple of jaywalkers caught in a cabbie’s headlights.
Finally, she asks in bewilderment, “Quincy? What are you doing here?” Her baffled gaze travels over my T-shirt, landing on my wrist as I nervously tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. There’s a spark of recognition in her dark eyes when she notices the bracelet. Her gaze locks on mine, questioning.
“I’m here to say what I should have said ten years ago.” I gather a breath, valiantly ignoring the ogling onlookers. “I’m sorry for not joining you in New York all those years ago like I’d promised. I’m sorry I let our friendship fizzle, as if it didn’t matter to me. As if you didn’t matter to me.” My voice trembles, but I keep going. “The truth is, you’ve always been like a sister to me. The kind of sister I always wanted. Loving, supportive, and patient with all my faults. But I took you for granted. And I let you down, more times than I can count. I know I don’t deserve a second chance. Or a third. But I went too long without you in my life, and I can’t go back to a Brynn-less existence.”
The words spill out of me like a wellspring of thoughts and emotions that have gone unspoken for far too long. And while they’re heartfelt, I’m not entirely sure they’re coherent. To be honest, the whole scene is a bit of a blur, and before I realize what I’m doing, I drop down on one knee, clearly influenced by binge-watching too many Hallmark movies.
Brynn and Oliver—and the entire terrace of transfixed spectators—gape at me, but I’ve come too far to turn back now.
I slip the bracelet off my wrist and offer it to her like some sort of odd, oversized engagement ring. “Brynn Rose Delaney, will you do me the honor of being my best friend forever? Until death do us part?”
In the wake of my peculiar platonic proposal, the early spring air turns eerily silent, save for a single bird whose lilting twitter almost sounds like it’s laughing at me. I tune it out, intent on Brynn’s reaction.
A string of emotions flickers across her face as she processes my bizarre behavior.
I hold my breath, suddenly understanding how a man must feel when he pours out his heart, putting it on display to either be received or rejected for the entire world to watch.
After what seems like an eternity, Brynn steps forward and tearfully plucks the bracelet from my gasp. “Yes! Of course I will, you big goofball. Best friends forever.”
She slips the bracelet over her wrist, and I jump to my feet, gathering her in a bone-crushing hug while our befuddled audience applauds with the kind of disjointed cadence that betrays their confusion.
When we break apart, Brynn is grinning broadly. “If this is your apology to me, I can’t wait to see what you have planned for Ethan,” she teases.
My stomach flutters at the thought of seeing him again. I’ve missed his slanted smile, the silky smooth thrum of his voice, the way his presence simultaneously puts me at ease and makes my skin tingle with excitement. “Do you know where he is?”
“He’s meeting with potential investors for MAD Market.”
My heart swells, and I’m so thrilled for him, I think it might actually burst. But I’d promised to be there. “Do you know where?”
“I do, why?”
“Because I’ve missed too many important moments already. Which reminds me, I want to hear about all of this,” I say, wagging my finger between her and Oliver.
Brynn blushes. “Let’s just say you were right.”
“I need details. But first, I need the address for Ethan’s meeting.” I spin on my heel, ready to march off as soon as I know where I’m headed.
“Wait, Quincy.” Brynn grabs my hand. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“You don’t?” My spirits falter as I meet her gaze, suddenly teetering between hope and apprehension.
Her lips quirk as she eyes my wardrobe. “We might need to do something about that T-shirt first.”