“I have to say, it’s just weird to think of you two as condo people.”
We were in the elevator heading up to their seventh-floor penthouse. Penthouse. As in Seb pushed the button that said “7PH,” and that was them. Top floor. The entire floor. Upstairs from a pediatrician’s office, down the street from the Ghostbusters, and, most important, around the corner from Taylor Swift. Literally around the corner. “You can see her roof from our roof,” Brynn had said, as if that was a normal thing to say.
“Honestly, I think it’s weirder to think of you as Cadillac Escalade people,” Cole chimed in.
Brynn laughed. “We’re not Cadillac Escalade people. We just needed more space because you guys are here.”
“But you have a driver!” I argued. How were they so chill about all of this? “You had your driver bring your bigger car because you needed more space.”
“Don’t be silly,” Brynn said. “Malik is not ‘our driver.’” She used her air quotes liberally, but the “silliness” she was insisting we were exhibiting wasn’t clear to me yet. “And the Escalade is not ‘our bigger car.’ He drives for the network, and yes, he does drive us around fairly often, but only to and from the airport and to the studio and stuff like that.”
“And what sort of vehicle does he usually drive you in?” Cole asked, an amused grin on his face.
Brynn blushed and looked down at her feet. “Oh, I don’t even know, really. It’s just some little—”
“It’s a Mercedes S-Class,” Sebastian interjected. “Give it up, Brynn. In New York, we are Cadillac Escalade people, and they know it. We’re also condo people. There’s just no denying it.”
“And that’s awesome,” I insisted, though I really had no idea if it was or not. That remained to be seen, I supposed.
The elevator doors opened, and we were all met by the clickety-clackety of little dog paws running against hardwood floors. “Murrow!” We all greeted the tiny Havanese in unison, and Sebastian bent over to pick him up. Sebastian had already been up, of course, to bring in our luggage, so I guessed Murrow’s enthusiasm was really directed at Brynn. She reached over and scratched behind his ear and cuddled him in Sebastian’s arms, and Murrow’s excited yelps confirmed my suspicions.
Yeah . . . that was another thing. Murrow usually traveled with them, but after the wedding Murrow had come back to New York with Brynn’s assistant. East of the Mississippi, the Sudworths were also personal-assistant people. Weird.
I’d begun making my way over to say hello to Murrow, but Cole stopped me with a hand on my elbow. “Look at this place,” he whispered.
There was a lot to see, but I followed his eyes and tried to take it all in from his perspective right then. He was looking up at a staircase that led to a mezzanine in the center of the condo. That mezzanine not only featured a den or office or something, by the look of it, but was surrounded by massive windows with unobstructed views of the city outside. We’d been craning our necks outside before we came in, wanting to catch one more glimpse of One World Trade in case we weren’t going to have such an easy opportunity to stare at it later. Who’d have thought that all we’d have to do was look up and around a winding staircase inside our friends’ home?
“Is that a door up there?” Cole asked me. “Where does it go? Out to their helipad?”
I chuckled softly as Brynn came up behind us. “Do you like it?”
I turned to her. “Do we like what? New York? It’s sort of hard to say—”
“No, the apartment. I was . . . well . . . I know it’s stupid, but I was a little nervous, actually. I was afraid you might think we’re sort of pretentious or something.”
“Weren’t you there for the ‘Cadillac people’ conversation?” Sebastian was kneeling on the giant curved tan-leather couch with Murrow by his side. “They do think we’re pretentious.”
There was enough humor in his voice, and we knew and loved each other enough, that I understood it was all very good natured. Nevertheless, I felt guilty. The way Cole’s mouth tightened and puckered as he pulled his eyes away from Brynn’s made it pretty clear he did too.
“No, of course not,” I insisted. “You’re not pretentious. It’s just . . . I mean . . . wow. This place is crazy, you guys. I just can’t really wrap my head around it.”
Cole chimed in. “I was making a lame joke to Laila a minute ago, but as long as you and the neighbors don’t actually have a helipad on the roof, I think we’ll adjust.”
Brynn shook her head. “No. Definitely not. No helipad.”
“Besides,” Sebastian added, “the neighbors aren’t allowed on the roof.” He laughed and stood up as Murrow jumped down. “Want to get settled in your rooms?”
Brynn clapped in excitement. “Ooh! Yes! Okay, now they aren’t quite finished yet. And we only really have one guest room. Lai, you can stay in there. Cole, we’ll put you in the—” Her mouth clamped shut and she seemed to just manage to stop the words she was going to say before they escaped. “The, um . . . Well, it’s just a den, really. Or, you know, an office. Yeah, it’s an office. With a bed. Just a little separate from the other rooms—”
“What is it, really?” Cole asked, bending his neck to look around Brynn at Sebastian.
“Yeah, it’s a maid’s quarters. But don’t worry. We don’t actually have a maid. We’re not that pretentious.”
* * *
A couple minutes later we had moved my luggage into a modestly sized guest room that could have passed for a guest room in a middle-class noncelebrity home in Colorado Springs or something if not for the skylight that didn’t reveal much of the city but displayed a perfect view of the roof. Brynn and Sebastian’s roof that—he wasn’t kidding—the neighbors weren’t allowed on. Yes, it was the top of the entire building that quite a few people lived in and that rich little Manhattanite kids presumably visited when they had a cold or got marbles stuck up their noses, but Brynn and Seb owned the roof. Including north, south, and west terraces, one of which gave them direct line of sight to Taylor Swift’s roof.
The walls of the guest room were painted with a leftover design Brynn called “if Monet had painted the jungle room at Graceland,” which I actually sort of loved, and the bed was also left over from the previous owners. It had a canopy tent over it, but not like something we had actually camped in. Oh no. It was tan and tasteful and reminiscent of photos I had seen of Ernest Hemingway on safari in Africa. (Brynn wouldn’t tell me whom they had bought the condo from, but she did go so far as to say, “I’m not saying it wasn’t a former Sexiest Man Alive, his Gossip Girl wife, and their ever-expanding brood.”)
I could hardly wait to see what awaited Cole in his maid’s quarters, so I ran after them, circled around the mezzanine stairs, passed the dining alcove, made a right at the full-height wine refrigerator, shimmied past a built-in shelf full of Emmys and who knew what other glittery hardware accolades, did a quick double take at what I’m pretty sure was an actual Picasso on the wall, and then I arrived. Just as Brynn said, “Oh no! Why would she put everything in here?!”
Cole’s maid’s quarters—smaller, tasteful, and sadly devoid of nineteenth-century-impressionism-meets-Elvis interior design—were crammed to the hilt with wedding presents.
Brynn pulled her phone out and began texting. “I’m so sorry, you guys. I told my assistant we had two people coming to visit . . .” She nodded her head in resignation as she read the text that popped up in front of her. “She thought you were a couple. I guess I didn’t specify. She just wanted to get the wedding gifts out of the way.” She stuffed her phone back into the pocket of her dress and looked at Sebastian with a pained expression. “Does the couch pull out?”
Sebastian chuckled. “Do you mean the circular one that you insisted on because it would form an intimate conversation nook? No. No, it doesn’t. But if Cole wants to curl up like a horseshoe all night, I’m sure it will be very comfortable.”
She shot him a look that we’d seen a lot when they were planning the wedding. “Thanks, Seb. That’s helpful.” Sighing in frustration, she pulled her phone out again. “The Roxy Hotel is only a block or two past Ghostbusters. I’ll call and get you a room for tonight, and then tomorrow we’ll—”
“Don’t you dare.” Cole stepped into the doorway and wrapped his arm around her. “I bet I can just bunk with Laila.” He glanced at me and shrugged.
“Ooh!” I clapped my hands and then raised them in the air excitedly. I knew he was hoping I would go along with the suggestion so we could keep Brynn from going to any trouble or feeling bad, but I didn’t even have to feign enthusiasm for the idea. “Yes! Let’s do that!”
“It’s really not a problem to get a hotel room. I don’t want you guys to be cramped.”
Cole scoffed. “Are you kidding? The five of us used to cram into Doc’s fifth wheel, remember? We’d spend weeks at a time in that thing over summer break, and I’m pretty sure it was smaller than that tent bed Ryan Reynolds bought for his kids.”
“I never said it was Ryan Reynolds!” Brynn protested.
He laughed. “My bad. Just making wild guesses.”
“It’s really not a problem, Brynn. We’re mountain kids, you know. I’m pretty sure we can rough it in your luxurious penthouse for a little while. I’m actually a little excited.”
I was more than a little excited, truth be told. I hadn’t had a sleepover in years, unless you counted Cole falling asleep on the couch when I made him watch The Crown with me.
Sebastian flipped the light switch and ushered us all out before closing the door to the maid’s quarters. “Great. That’s settled. Let’s go to bed.” He grabbed Brynn’s hand and began pulling her toward their bedroom, which we hadn’t even seen yet.
“I’m sorry it’s been such a long day.” I hugged each of them. “Thanks so much for everything, and for letting us crash for a little bit. Don’t let us get in your way. Anything we need to know about? Which towels to use or anything like that?”
Cole grabbed my arm and pulled me back toward the room, calling over his shoulder, “We’ll figure it out. Good night!”
“Good night!” Sebastian echoed.
Brynn groaned. “Seb, hang on,” she whispered and then hurried over to me and pulled me aside, into the marble kitchen. “You’re really sure you’re okay with this?” She spoke so quietly I had to lean in to hear her.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” I didn’t see any need to whisper, so I didn’t. “I probably just need to call my dad and check in, and then I might take another of those pills Doc gave me for my back—”
“Give them to me.” Cole appeared around the corner just a split second before Sebastian did.
“You can’t be trusted with those things,” Sebastian added.
I rolled my eyes. “I told you I didn’t know I couldn’t take them together. Now I know. Brynn only gave me the one happy pill, anyway, and the ones for my back will be fine.”
Sebastian raised his eyebrows, and Cole nodded. “Don’t worry. I’m on it.” And then Sebastian held Brynn’s fingers again and began pulling her away from me.
“Boys, go away,” Brynn instructed, and they did as they were told—Cole quickly and efficiently, Sebastian with an agitated groan.
I smiled and leaned in. “What’s up?”
She rubbed her hands up and down my arms and lowered her voice again. “I just . . . well, I mean . . . I guess I just know emotions are running sort of high for you right now. For both of you. Bill dying . . . everything that happened with Cassidy’s . . . Cole thinking he needs to move away . . .”
“Yeah?”
She studied me intently, her head tilted and her eyes narrowed. And then she seemed to shake it all off, and the seriousness was replaced by a smile as she wrapped her arms around me. “Forget it. I think I’m just exhausted. But I’m so glad you’re here.”
I hugged her back. “Love you.”
“Love you,” she replied. She began walking away and then turned back one more time. “Just leave the lights on, or do whatever. We can control them from—”
“Enough already.” Sebastian swooped in and scooped her up into his arms, causing Brynn to giggle all the way until they were out of eyeshot and earshot.