Love Like Theirs (The Romance Chronicles—Book #4)

CHAPTER TWO

When Keira woke the next day, a feeling of mortification struck her. Memories of the party came flooding back, of the tequila shots with her friends and the whole unpleasant experience with Rob kissing her, and her throwing a drink in his face. But that wasn’t the worst thing. The worst thing that had happened was that she’d texted Cristiano.

She heaved back the covers, getting tangled in them in her haste to find her cell phone and falling flat on her ass. From the hard floor, she groaned and reached up to the coffee table, getting hold of it.

Once the phone was in her hands, Keira became too terrified to look. She hesitated, her thumb hovering over the button, before finally swallowing her anguish and pressing down.

Immediately, she saw she’d received several text notifications. Her heart leapt into her throat. Could one be from Cristiano? She clicked on the icon.

The first was Maxine asking if she was okay. The next; Maxine, again, asking her to let her know she got home okay. Then several from Shelby writing a stream of unconnected words spelled incorrectly, another from Maxine from earlier this morning stating that if Keira didn’t get in touch by midday she’d call the police, and finally one from her mom asking if she’d ever tried coconut milk in her latte. But nothing from Cristiano.

Her stomach sank. Disappointment settled deeply in her chest. But it was quickly replaced by a new sensation: relief. She’d taken the first step, broken the wall of silence between them, and Cristiano had chosen not to communicate in return. At least now she knew where she stood. She didn’t need to wonder anymore. As difficult as it was to know things were truly over, she was glad at least for some certainty.

She looked back at Maxine’s messages, no longer distracted by thoughts of Cristiano and able to pay them the attention they deserved.

Are you okay, hon? So sorry about Rob! What a jerk. I know you well enough to know you’re probably embarrassed about it, but you’re literally my hero right now.

She smiled to herself, her mortification of having made a spectacle of herself dissipating slightly. She typed a response.

Sorry for being silent. I must’ve fallen asleep as soon as I got home. Of course I’m embarrassed, but at least you’re proud of me.

She sent the message and went to put her phone away, then on second thought sent a text to her mom, Mallory.

Yes. And it’s yummy.

She heard the sound of a key in the door then and jumped with surprise. As she turned to look over her shoulder, she saw Bryn enter the apartment, dressed in workout gear, her cheeks pink, hairline sweaty, and face grinning widely. Keira realized then that she was not alone. Felix was in tow. For an older gentleman he certainly looked all right in workout gear. He reminded her a little of the before model from an ad for male hair dye.

“You’re up,” Bryn said to Keira with a smile. “How was the party?”

“Could’ve been better,” Keira murmured in reply. “Where have you two been?”

Bryn went over to the sink to fill up her empty water bottle. It was Felix who answered Keira’s question.

“We just went for a jog,” he said.

Keira had to stop herself from exclaiming, “At your age?” Instead, she managed to censor herself and instead asked, “At this time of the morning?”

“Best time for it,” Felix replied. He raised one of his legs, resting it on a kitchen stool and stretching to touch his toes.

He was fitter than Keira, that much was evident. She’d let everything deteriorate in that department and her waistline was starting to suffer for it. It was all well and good eating and drinking to her heart’s content when she was hiking up Italian mountainsides, but now that her evenings consisted of binge-watching TV and eating pretzels, it wasn’t so great. She poked her stomach. It was definitely squishier than it used to be. She’d have to do something about that soon.

Bryn turned back from the sink and took a long swig from her bottle. “Have you heard from Mom?”

“Just some random text about coconut milk latte,” Keira replied.

Bryn laughed. “She’s losing her mind. She was supposed to let you know about dinner tonight.”

“Oh,” Keira replied.

“Well?” Bryn probed. “What do you say? Swanson ladies dinner date?”

“Isn’t Felix invited?” Keira asked, curiously. Mallory seemed to love Felix; either that or she was just very relieved that Bryn had finally started a stable relationship.

Felix switched to stretching his other leg. He glanced at Keira, his hands outstretched clasping the toe of his sneaker. “I’ve got plans with my own family tonight. It’s my parents’ wedding anniversary.”

Once again, Keira had to bite her tongue to stop from blurting out something rude. But she really was surprised that Felix’s parents were alive and kicking. They must be well into their eighties, the age Keira’s grandparents would have been had either still been alive.

“That’s lovely,” she managed to say.

“What shall I tell Mom?” Bryn asked.

“Tell her okay,” Keira replied.

Maybe some mollycoddling could help kick-start her out of her funk. There really was nothing like Mallory’s maternal cloying to remind Keira how important her independence was.

Bryn and Felix exchanged a nod and then headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Keira asked.

“Second five K,” Bryn replied.

“Ten before breakfast has always been my motto,” Felix added.

They waved and swirled out the door. Keira blinked at it. It was hard to believe that

anyone

could be that physically active, let alone a sixty-something man. She wondered how long it took someone to train to run 10k and realized it wouldn’t take that long at all. Certainly less than a year. Felix could have started his fitness regime on his sixtieth birthday for all she knew. It was never too late to make a change.

She realized, suddenly, that she needed to stop sitting around feeling sorry for herself. Overcome by a surge of motivation, Keira grasped her work bag and pulled out her notebook. She quickly wrote a list of all the things she needed to change in her life, including losing a couple of extra pounds and getting her roots touched up. She scanned the list and realized there was one very important change she needed to make to get her life back on track, and that was getting herself into her own apartment. The longer she stayed sleeping on Bryn’s couch, the harder it was becoming to ever imagine herself being independent, standing on her own two feet again.

She fetched her laptop and went onto a real estate website. She hadn’t checked apartment prices for at least a couple of years, having been settled with Zach for so long, and the prices made her eyes water. But if she added up her work bonuses and the several grand she’d saved just from not having to pay rent or for any of her food for the last few months, she might just be able to scrape together enough to put down a deposit. On paper she looked like a safe bet, since she had a steady job with a decent income. She started to feel the first glimmer of hope in days.

She scrolled through all the apartments, looking for one to rent within her price range. Most of them looked a little worse for wear, but she liked DIY and didn’t mind having a fixer-upper. She just wanted something that was her own, somewhere she could call home after spending weeks on end in hotel rooms.

At last, an apartment caught her eye. A one-bed, one-bath condo farther west from Manhattan than she usually went. From the photos it looked like it had been a sad divorcé’s downsizer, but Keira could see past the drab, unloved decor. The windows were huge, the ceilings high. Without the graying carpet it would look even more spacious. The building had laundry facilities in the basement, and it was less than a mile from a subway station.

It felt like fate.

Keira grabbed her phone and punched in the agent’s number. After a few rings, a croaky voice answered, an older woman with a decades-developed smoker’s rasp.

“I’m inquiring about the apartment on your website,” she said, explaining which specific one she was interested in.

“Oh yeah, that one’s a beaut,” the woman replied. “Great location. How tall are you?”

Keira was taken aback by the question. “Why?”

“’Cause the last two guys I showed it to were the size of basketball players and wanted more space. Waste of everyone’s time. And time is money, kiddo. So? How tall?”

“Five two,” Keira said.

“Perfect,” the woman rasped. “When d’ya wanna look?”

Keira thought of her job, of the long hours she often had to work at

Viatorum.

“A weekend would be better.”

“Whatcha doin’ today?” came the woman’s response. “I had a cancellation so could fit you in.”

“Today?” Keira repeated, surprised. It wasn’t like she had anything else to do. “Okay, yes. Today is fine!”

They made the necessary arrangements and Keira hung up the call, feeling a little dazed from the speed with which it had all happened. It really did feel like fate.

Keira left the subway, finding herself in an unfamiliar but rather pleasant part of New York. It was one of the things about the city she loved so much, how it changed, evolved, and developed so constantly it was always reinventing itself. Not that long ago this area must have been a bit rundown and the public hadn’t yet caught on, because there was no way she’d be able to afford to rent a place here otherwise!

She hurried along the sidewalk, scanning the door numbers as she went, searching for the correct building. As she drew closer to the correct number, she noticed a woman standing ahead in a fuchsia pink two-piece and matching heels, smoking a cigarette. That must be the real estate agent she spoke to on the phone.

The woman turned, presumably at the sound of Keira’s footsteps, and threw her cigarette to the ground. She put it out with the toe of her shoe and headed toward the door, gesturing for Keira to follow her, blowing smoke from the side of her lips as she went.

“Let’s get inside,” she called out when Keira was still a few paces away. “I’m freezing my butt off out here.”

Keira blinked in surprise at how rapidly things continued to move. Without even introductions, she followed the woman inside the apartment building.

Inside, it was as dingy as Keira had expected, but the staircase was in one piece and the elevator smelled fine. They went up to the thirteenth floor and Keira was pleased to see there was no graffiti anywhere in the corridor they emerged into.

The real estate agent put a key in the lock of a plain white door and then pushed it open.

The smell of dust wafted out. It smelled like the condo hadn’t been vacuumed for years. They stepped inside.

“The landlord lived here for a bit before moving to another place and renting this out. He’s a bachelor,” the agent said, wiping her fingers across the balustrade and picking up dust. “You can probably tell.”

But Keira didn’t care about the layer of dust. She didn’t even care about how much smaller the apartment was in real life compared to the pictures, or how the wallpaper was covered in smudgy handprints. She could see past all of that. The condo to her meant freedom, independence, the beginning of her life. A reboot. An anchor.

“I love it!” she cried, clapping her hands.

The agent didn’t seem moved by her gushing. “Good,” she said simply. “Bedroom’s through there. That’s the reason it’s cheap. Not enough room for a proper double, just one of those European-sized ones. But you’re short so you’ll fit fine.”

Keira peered into the bedroom. It was indeed little more than a closet. But what else did she need from a bedroom than a place to sleep? It wasn’t like she had a partner to share her bed with, it would just be her. Her and maybe a cat…

“Looks big enough for me,” she said. “I don’t actually own a bed so it will just be a case of getting something that fits.”

The real estate agent nodded in her characteristic lackluster way. “Great. Wanna rent it?”

Keira needed a moment to think. This was happening too fast. She ducked back out of the bedroom into the living area and walked over to the large windows, looking out at the view. She could see Central Park from here.

Suddenly she could imagine herself sitting by this window, gazing out at the streets, drinking coffee, writing. It was like her own Paris hotel window. Perfect for her. She didn’t need anything fancy, not when she was abroad for work so often. She just needed somewhere to call her own. A fresh start.

She swirled to face the fuchsia-clad real estate agent. “Yes. I’ll take it.”