Spotlight: Chapter 1

“I’m not ready to go home tomorrow,” Ruby says as the hotel door clicks behind us.

“I am.” I toss my purse on the entry table. “I miss Greer, and Gigi still isn’t responding to my texts.”

My sister opens the mini fridge and pulls out the small bottle of white wine that we opened last night. “Everything is fine. Gigi is just dying for you to meet a nice young man and give her another great-grandbaby.”

“I gave her one. It’s your turn.”

“Oh no. I am far too busy doing… things.” She waves a hand in the air as she trails off without a good excuse. “One last drink?”

“Yeah. Why not?” I walk over to the window and stare out at the New York City lights.

I flew across the country with Ruby so that she could meet with her publisher and sign copies of her newest book that releases next week. It’s been a blast to see my sister in her element as a bestselling author, but I’m ready to go home. Back to my daughter. Back to work even.

“Did you get that guy from the bar’s number?” she asks as she pours the wine into two glasses.

“No,” I say, like the idea is impossible. “Why would I do that?”

“Maybe because he was cute and really into you.”

“He was not.” In my experience, guys are only into the version of me out at the bar, not the reality of my life as a single mom.

“He was. And why shouldn’t he be? You’re pretty and smart and⁠—”

“Not interested in dating right now.”

She rolls her eyes at me as she walks over to where I still stand at the window. “You can’t swear off dating at twenty-four. The right guy is out there.”

“Now you sound like Gigi.”

Grandma Gloria, who we’ve called Gigi for as long as I can remember, is amazing, but she has it in her head that I am missing out on experiences. She hasn’t outright said that, but when I asked if she could babysit Greer this weekend so I could go with Ruby on this trip, she agreed immediately and even suggested we stay an extra day or two. She’s always inviting Greer to sleep over at her house or offering to help so I can “go out, have fun, meet some new people.” And by people, she absolutely means men.

I am not just any other twenty-four-year-old, though. The people I meet when I step out of my normal routine are living their best lives, going out and sleeping in. We have one fun night together and then they either ghost me because they absolutely know they don’t want the responsibility of dating a single mom or they give up quickly when they realize my schedule isn’t as free as theirs. And don’t even get me started on trying to date a single dad. Nothing shines a mirror on your exhaustion like sitting across from someone who fought their kid over putting their shoes on an hour earlier.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Thanks,” I say, taking one of the wine glasses. “To my insanely talented sister. I’m so proud of you.”

Ruby’s expression turns bashful. She clinks her glass to mine despite her obvious displeasure at being the center of attention. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You absolutely could have and did.”

“No. You read it first and gave me a ton of great feedback. You’re a born editor. You see problems and offer great suggestions that make my books so much better.”

She’s overselling my part, by a lot. “I offered a few minor suggestions.”

“No.” She shakes her head and her eyes light up with amusement. “That assessment is so wrong; I don’t even know where to start.”

“If I’m good at it, it’s only because I’m your biggest fan.”

She smiles at that, and we face the window, looking out together as we drink in silence.

Eventually, Ruby rests her head against mine. “I should pack. What time is our flight in the morning?”

“Ten. The car will be here to pick us up at seven forty-five.”

She groans. “Okay. I’m off to bed. Are you staying up?”

“Yeah. I’m not tired yet.”

“Maybe you should go down to the hotel bar and see if your cute guy is still there.”

“Good night,” I say with a laugh.

Ruby flashes a grin as she heads into her room and closes the door.

I drain the rest of my wine and then glance around the suite. The publisher put us up in a really nice hotel. We each have our own bedroom, and the living area alone is nearly bigger than my entire apartment back in Arizona. It has a dining table that can seat twelve and a balcony that overlooks the busy streets.

Unlike Ruby, I’ve already packed, so I grab my phone. Dozens of texts wait for me from friends, but what catches my eyes is a new text from Gigi. Finally. I open the text to a picture of a smiling Greer. I’m happy to see my daughter’s face, but it only makes me miss her more.

While I’m still holding my phone, it vibrates with an incoming call from Jake.

My gaze narrows as I stare at my ex’s name flashing on the screen. Actually, calling Jake an ex gives him far too much credit for the one decent night we spent together, but it’s easier than explaining to people he’s my baby’s daddy.

“Hello?” I answer, keeping my voice low.

“Hey, finally.” His tone is part irritation and part relief. “Did you not get my texts?”

“One second,” I say as I unlock the sliding door that leads to the balcony and step outside.

I don’t love New York City the same way some people do, but I love the way it lights up at night.

I use the view to push away the frustration that always seems to surface while talking to Jake. Co-parenting is hard. Putting the phone back to my ear, I say, “I’m in New York with Ruby. I told you before I left, I would be hard to reach.”

He’s silent on the other end.

“What’s up?” I ask. We aren’t friends, but we are friendly. Still, he isn’t calling without reason.

The cold wind whips around me as Jake says, “I’m not going to make Greer’s birthday party next weekend.”

“What?” That frustration that I was trying so hard to let go of comes roaring back. “You promised.”

A chill moves down my bare arms and legs. I’m cursing my short dress and the winter breeze, but I want to soak up the last night here, even if I am eager to get back.

“And I meant it at the time, but something came up at work and I can’t miss it,” Jake says, a hint of annoyance creeping in more with each word, like explaining it to me is the real frustration and not missing his daughter’s birthday.

“That isn’t how promises work.” My teeth grind down as I walk out toward the edge of the balcony, resting my elbows on the ledge and peering down. The street is still busy with bumper-to-bumper traffic. People out enjoying their night, hurrying to parties or bars or back home. That’s where I wish I were. Home in sweats and not having this conversation.

Jake sighs, further driving home the point that he thinks I’m the unreasonable one. “I have some vacation time in early June. She can come to San Diego then, and I’ll take her to the beach or Sea World.”

“June?! That’s six months away.”

That’s a long time even by my standards, but to the five-year-old in question, it will feel like a lifetime. Greer can barely comprehend waiting a week for something she’s really excited about, let alone several months.

“It’s her birthday, Jake. She’ll be devastated if you aren’t there. Can’t you rearrange your schedule or have someone else cover you?”

“I can’t. I’m sorry. This is the best I can do,” he says, with a note of finality. I can’t force him to be here. I know because this isn’t the first time he’s bailed or the first time I’ve tried to talk him out of it. He’s never missed her birthday though.

Dread washes over me as I picture Greer’s face when he breaks the news to her. She mentions her dad every single time we talk about her birthday next weekend—and it’s basically all we talk about. She’s been counting down for weeks and saying how happy she is that everyone will be there.

“I’ll call her the day of, and my assistant already mailed her gifts. She picked out a new princess costume that I’m sure Greer will love and a pink iPad.”

“That is more than we agreed to spend.” We have always had a strict fifty-dollar limit on birthdays. Co-parenting can be tricky when it comes to gifts. It’s like each birthday, holiday, or celebration we’re both trying to make up for the fact we’re raising our daughter separately. Both of us going above and beyond in our own ways. Jake’s way is with money, and I don’t want our daughter to grow up having more stuff than memories.

“Fuck, Liv, there’s no winning with you.”

Maybe I am the irrational one. My current frustration makes it hard for me to think straight. The budget rule was my idea. And yes, it was set with good intentions, but I can’t deny I’ve been extra grateful for it so that Jake doesn’t spend a lot more than I can. I want Greer to have everything her heart wants, but I also want to leave room for her to use her imagination and creativity.

The sigh I let out takes all the remaining energy I have left and blows it right over the ledge of the building. This is why I can’t escape for a night or weekend like a typical single twenty-something. The responsibilities are always there, and I’m holding it together with duct tape and safety pins.

“Whatever. You can tell her when you talk on Sunday, but do not mention June unless you are certain you can make it work.”

There’s a pause that makes my hackles rise.

“I was hoping you could tell her. I don’t want to ruin our weekly call. If you give her the news tomorrow, then she’ll have a day to adjust to the idea.”

He’s making me the bad guy, but if I’m honest, I want to be the one to tell her. That way, I can hold her while she cries and remind her how much we love her. And I don’t want to ruin their Sunday afternoon video chat any more than he does. It’s the one day of the week she has his attention, and I know how much she looks forward to it. Every kid deserves time with their parents. Even if I want to punch said parent in the nose. I can resent his decision and still want to protect Greer from it as much as possible.

“Fine.” I exhale and close my eyes, turning away from the city and facing the room.

As Jake says his goodbyes, making more promises that I’m uncertain he’ll keep, I focus on the city noises that filter up to the rooftop. The glide of tires over the road below and the squeal of brakes rolling to a stop. A horn honks in the distance. A slight thump of the bass from another hotel room and the occasional laughter or loud voices.

After I end the call, I cradle my phone in both hands and linger a moment longer, pushing away the irritation of my call with Jake. He doesn’t get to ruin my last night in New York and Greer’s birthday.

Sure, my plans for the rest of the night are getting ready for bed and sleeping, but now I’m likely going to be thinking of him while I do both activities. The number of hate dreams I’ve had about Jake is truly impressive.

“Ten more seconds,” I speak the words out loud as I soak in just a few more moments of the city sounds.

“Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two.” I pause. “Two and a half⁠—”

A deep chuckle rumbles from the shadows, and I suck in a startled breath.

“Hello?” I ask cautiously as I sidestep closer to the door leading back inside. I swear to God if I get murdered up here, I’ll be so pissed.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” I finally see him, or part of him. He stands on the balcony of the room next door, cast in shadows. He doesn’t move, but I still feel a prick of unease at being out here with a stranger.

“Have you been out here the entire time?” I ask, glancing at the door again, just in case I need to make a run for it. I’m fairly certain I could outrun him in the time it would take for him to leap over the balcony wall.

“If you’re asking if I heard your conversation, then yes, but only because interrupting seemed rude.”

“And eavesdropping isn’t?” I ask, quirking a brow. I probably shouldn’t provoke this strange guy, but I can’t seem to help it. I’m still prickly from talking to Jake.

“I was here first, so technically you were eavesdropping on me.”

“You weren’t talking,” I point out.

“Actually, I was having a pretty nice conversation with myself until you showed up.”

I huff a small laugh. There’s a playfulness in his words and a tone that loosens some of the anxious energy I’ve been holding.

His voice softens as he adds, “Sorry. I should have gone inside or said something, but I like it out here and you seem to be having as shitty of a night as I am. Plus, I’m a gentleman. I couldn’t just leave you out here all alone.”

It’s an oddly sweet confession from a complete stranger.

“Who’s Jake?” he asks. “Boyfriend? Husband? Dad?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Doesn’t matter, anyway. He sounded like a jerk.”

I open my mouth to defend Jake, because that’s what I usually do, but this mystery man doesn’t give me a chance.

“If he’s not going to make it this weekend, I am happy to take his place.”

“What?”

“I love a birthday party, and I just happen to be free.”

The audacity is almost charming. Almost. With my luck in men, he’s some sort of psycho serial killer.

“I don’t even know you.” I study his profile in the dark. He leans against the stone wall of the balcony. Long jean-clad legs crossed at the ankle. He slouches forward slightly, but I can still tell by the width of his shoulders and the bulge of his biceps that he’s tall and muscular. I wish I could see his face better. His profile boasts a straight nose and wide mouth. His hair curls around the bottom of the baseball hat on his head, but I can’t make out the color. Not black, but not blond either, somewhere in between.

“Sure you do. I’m your next boyfriend.”

I smile and laugh softly to myself. The moonlight flashes against his teeth enough for me to tell he’s smiling, too.

“Thanks for the laugh. I needed that.” Cocky isn’t my type, but at least I’m not standing out here sulking anymore. I start for the door to head back inside.

“Wait,” he calls out. “You can’t just leave me out here. Who will I talk to?”

Pausing, I glance back at him. “The same person you were talking to before I came out and interrupted you. You can finish that nice conversation with yourself.”

“I like talking with you better. What’s your name?”

“I’m not telling you that.” I should leave it at that and keep walking, but something keeps me rooted in place.

“Fine. Tell me something else about you then.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to go back inside yet, and I get the feeling you don’t either.”

There’s something about his honesty that has me considering it. What’s another minute or two?

“I hate the cold,” I say finally.

His deep laughter skates over my skin, leaving goosebumps.

“It isn’t cold.” His hands are shoved in his pants pockets and his shoulders are slightly hunched to block the wind.

“It’s cold to me.”

“You must not be from here.”

“No. I’m not.”

He chuckles again, as if realizing I’m not going to tell him where I’m from.

“Me either. I like it though. I didn’t grow up with real winters either, but I love snow and ice, and all that.”

I shiver just thinking about it. “Not me. My winter accessories are only for show.” Cute boots and scarves that I pull out of the back of my closet for a week or two each year. Most winter days in Arizona can be braved with a sweatshirt or a light jacket, but there’s usually a small window where the mornings dip below freezing.

“Tell me something else,” he says.

“Umm…” I’m a little embarrassed that nothing immediately comes to mind. For one, this is a bizarre scenario, so making idle chitchat with a guy that could still turn out to be a serial killer is not at the forefront of my mind. But also, I’m not used to guys wanting to know things about me beyond the usual: What do you do? How old are you? Followed up by, do you want to come back to my place? And in the rare instance they ask me to tell them something interesting about myself, I freeze up. It’s too much pressure. For the past nearly six years, my world has revolved around Greer.

But standing out here in the dark with a complete stranger, I don’t feel any pressure to be charming. It isn’t like I’m ever going to see this guy again. So, I think for a second and then rattle off the first things that come to mind.

“I want to start a garden, but I have no space in my current apartment for any more plants. I like action movies but only if they have a romantic subplot. I read several books a week. I don’t understand the appeal of pumpkin spice beverages. When I was in high school, I went to the state championship for cross country. And I cannot go on one more bad date.”

I don’t hear his laughter this time, but I can sense it as well as see the slight lift and fall of his shoulders as his body shakes with the movement. His reaction breaks the dam that usually has me freezing up.

“A runner?” he asks, sounding impressed.

“Not anymore. I had a couple scholarships to colleges, but I didn’t go.”

“Why not?”

“Life.” It’s my usual canned reply, but then I remember I’m never going to see this guy again. “I got pregnant.”

“You have a kid?” His lips curve with a bigger smile than I’d expect. It isn’t like most guys recoil in horror, but they rarely look this… happy about it.

“A daughter. She turns six next week.”

He’s quiet, as if considering my answer or maybe waiting for me to say more. I clamp my mouth shut. I’ve already overshared, but for some reason I still don’t want to leave. If anyone asks, I’ll blame it on the cold numbing my brain, but really, I think it’s him.

“What’s your name?”

I could tell him. Even if he were a serial killer, which I’ve pretty much ruled out at this point, I don’t know how a name is going to change anything, but I feel like I’ve already said too much.

“Fine. Doesn’t matter.”

Now I laugh. “At least you’re honest. You’ll forget it in an hour anyway, right?”

“I know I’ve only known you for a few minutes, but you aren’t the kind of woman a guy forgets so easily.”

My cheeks heat even though I’m certain that was a total line.

He shifts slightly and the lights reveal a sharp jawline and full lips that are quirked up in a smile. “A person’s name is usually the least interesting thing about them, so if you’re only offering a few pieces of information, I want the ones that tell me more about who you really are.”

It’s a more insightful answer than I was expecting. It’s probably still a line.

“I’m not sleeping with you.”

He barks out a laugh in the night air and it loosens some of the tension. He has a nice laugh, deep and throaty.

“I’d say the thought hadn’t crossed my mind, but I’d be lying.” Another quiet chuckle leaves his lips after the admission. “Won’t tell me your name, not sleeping with me, but you will stand out here and talk with me?”

I should go inside and get some sleep before our early flight.

“You know, there’s a bar downstairs filled with women who would probably be willing to do a lot more than talk.” An image of some other woman entertaining this guy flashes through my mind, along with an unexpected hit of jealousy.

He probably would have talked to anyone that walked out here. I’m not special. I was in the right place at the right time. But the thing about moments like this is that they feel special regardless of your better instincts. Fate. Destiny. Luck. Whatever you want to call it. I’m a hopeless romantic at heart and this stranger in the dark asking me questions is the most romantic thing that’s happened to me in a long time. How sad is that?

“Is that a no?” he asks.

“I haven’t decided,” I say, but don’t make any move to go inside.

“Was the guy on the phone your boyfriend?”

“No. I am very single.” And in case he thinks that’s an invitation, I add, “I’m not interested in dating right now.”

“That bad, huh?” he asks with a tinge of disbelief in his voice, like dating is awesome. Maybe for him it is. Actually, even without fully seeing him, I get the sense that he dates a lot and is great at it.

“I’d like to blame the men I’ve been out with, but honestly, it’s me. I’m a terrible date.”

“What? No way. I don’t believe that.” His gaze rakes over me and it’s the first time I realize he might be able to see me better than I can see him.

“It’s true. I promise you.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Now tell me something about you.”

“I’m an open book. What do you want to know?”

“Why are you in the city?”

He takes a beat, as if considering his words carefully. Maybe not such an open book after all.

When he finally answers, he says, “I had a job interview today.”

“And it didn’t go well?” I ask because he did say he was having a crappy day.

“It was a long shot. I knew that before I came, but I had to try.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. What about you? What brings you to the city?”

“I’m here with my sister. She had a job thing, and I tagged along.”

“That’s cool. Older or younger?”

“She’s three years older.”

“Other siblings?”

“No, just the one.”

“You’re the baby of the family, like me. I have older brothers.”

I don’t often feel like the baby. Ruby has always looked out for me like an older sister, but I had to grow up fast when I got pregnant, and somewhere in the past six years, I’ve taken on more of that eldest vibe. Though she would still cut a bitch who crossed me.

“Speaking of siblings,” he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. He stares at it, a grin pulling up one side of his mouth. “They’ve been blowing me up all day to hear about the try—, I mean, the interview.”

His smile falls, and he slides his phone back. The air shifts around him. He has a cocky playfulness about him, but this is a first glimpse of just how shitty he’s really feeling.

“Was it that bad?” I ask.

He blows out a breath that is visible in the dark night, and I can feel the weight of his emotions, disappointment, most likely. Maybe shame.

“No. In fact, it went well. Or so I thought. They want to go in a different direction.”

“I’m sorry.” And I am. I don’t know this guy’s name or anything about him, really, but I know what it’s like to reach for something and not get it, no matter how badly you want it.

“Anyway, enough about me.” He pushes off the balcony, standing to his full height.

My heart pounds a little faster as he comes toward me. He’s even taller than I assumed. Broader too. With each step he takes, the light brings him into better view. The black T-shirt he’s wearing stretches across his chest in a way that hints at the muscle underneath.

Confidence oozes from him. It’s in his fluid, athletic movements and the easy way he talks to me. His face is the last thing the light hits. His dark brown hair is covered by a white Minnesota Twins baseball hat. I guess that’s where he’s from, but I don’t ask since I’m not prepared to answer the same question.

His mouth is pulled into another half smile that gives him a certain charm. He’s one of those guys that is more handsome the longer you stare at him. Which I now realize I’ve been doing for several moments.

If we weren’t standing out in the cold, I’m certain that I’d be blushing.

“I knew you were beautiful, but the closer I get, the more out of my league I feel.” His voice has a direct line to the butterflies in my stomach.

“You’re full of shit.” The traitorous butterflies flutter anyway.

“I’ve never been more serious in my life.” His brows pinch together. “I feel like I’ve seen you before.”

I’m positive that’s a line, but dammit, it’s working. I’m flushed and smiling. I think that half glass of wine went to my head.

“Maybe in another life.”

“Either way, I’m glad we both ended up on this balcony together.”

“I should go in,” I say, but don’t move.

“Come have a drink with me.” He tips his head toward his room.

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

“Nah.” He grins and shakes his head. “That can’t be it.”

A small huff of surprise leaves my lips. The balls on this guy.

“Invite your sister too, if you want. I promise to be a perfect gentleman.”

Biting the corner of my lip, I glance inside. Ruby is probably sleeping by now, but I don’t want him to know that. I also don’t really want her to come. Which is how I realize want to go. I want to spend more time talking to this guy and I don’t want to dissect it too much. And really, what could it hurt? I’m never going to see him again and it’s my last night in New York. Gigi would be proud. I can tell her I had a flirty conversation with a stranger, and she’ll stop harassing me to go out more, at least for a week or two.

“Fine. One drink.”

His grin widens and makes my stomach flip nervously. I hope I don’t regret this.