Page 5 of One Last Shot

“I made you coffee,” I tell him as I hold up the to-go cup. “To have on your way home.”

“Ouch. I was ready for round two. You kicking me out already?” His voice is teasing, like he thinks I’m going to sayOh, round two? Yeah, let’s go for that.

“I don’t do this whole next-day thing,” I say, picking up his dress shirt off the floor and tossing it to him. The only reason I didn’t kick him out last night was because I fell asleep, exhausted from a day of travel between Park City, Utah and New York, combined with some pretty decent sex. It wasn’t a terrible way to end my day, but waking up with a stranger in my bed is never my favorite way to start a new one.

His face is screwed up into a mask of confusion as he catches the shirt, but he slips it on. As his fingers work at the buttons, he says, “Just so you know, usually I’m the one gently ushering someone out the door the next morning.”

I hold in myNot this timecomment, because there’s no reason to rub salt in the wound. Instead, I say, “I had fun last night.”

“Me too,” he says, swiping his pants off the floor at the edge of the bed. He slides his legs into them as he stands and looks at me while he zips and buttons them. “Maybe we can do it again tonight.”

“I’ve already got plans tonight,” I lie.

“It was worth a shot,” he says. I wait while he gets his socks and shoes on, then I head to the hotel room door, which I hold open for him to indicate it’s time to go. I hand him the to-go cup of coffee on his way out, shut the door behind me, and lean against it, relieved to have the space to myself. I have a lot to do to get ready for this meeting today.

* * *

With a courtesy smile for the doorman, I step out the hotel doors and let the crisp, April air wrap itself around me. The bright midday sun hits the buildings and reflects off the windows and limestone, making it feel like the city is lit by a spotlight. People stream past me, muttering their frustration as I stand on the wide sidewalk and take in my favorite city. As much as I’ve tried to ignore and deny it, I have missed New York more than I imagined I would.

I walk along the concrete, my heels pounding the pavement as I head toward the restaurant Emily picked out. It’s only four blocks from my hotel, a luxurious building on Fifth Avenue. I’ll have to figure out who booked my hotel room and thank them.

Emily is waiting outside the restaurant when I arrive, her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, and the loose pieces framing her face blow freely in the breeze. With her perfectly peachy skin and matte pink lips, she looks like she’s shooting a makeup ad—which makes sense given that she’s currently the face of one of the leading makeup brands in the country. Every single person who passes gives her a second glance, like they’re trying to figure out how they know her.

She opens her arms wide when she sees me and gives me a kiss on the cheek as she pulls me close. “I’ve missed you. It’s been way too long.”

“I know,” I sigh, pulling back and getting a good look at her. I promised I wouldn’t be that girl who moved away and never visited. “It’s just harder to get back here as often as I planned.”

“I know, and I understand.” She pulls open the restaurant door and ushers me inside.

As soon as the waiter has taken our drink order, Emily says, “So tell me everything. Why are you here? And how long are you staying?”

“I don’t actually know,” I tell her as I slide my cream wool jacket off and hang it over the back of my chair.

Her brows furrow. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“My assistant, Morgan, got a call about a week ago from a lawyer here. His client is interested in hiring me for a big event, and wanted to meet with me privately to discuss it. But I don’t know who the client is.”

“You flew across the country for this meeting and you don’t even know who it’s with? That doesn’t sound like you.” Emily furrows her brows as she takes a sip of her water.

She’s right on a hundred different levels. Walking into any situation where I don’t have control of all the moving parts is akin to walking into a pit of snakes.

“According to Morgan, what they’re willing to pay will make it worth it. Besides, a trip to New York was long overdue. It’s all on them, and I get to see you. Win-win. So, I’m headed to that meeting this afternoon.”

“I thought events planned by Petra Volkova were booked a year or more in advance.”

“Usually that’s true. But I had a high-profile society wedding in Park City planned in a month, and the whole thing fell through. I have other smaller events scheduled here and there, but that was the big thing we were working on, and so now I have some room in my schedule.” I consider this a win because I kept the deposit money so if I fill that time with another event, it’ll be like getting paid twice.

“I’m not at all surprised that event planning has turned out to be the right fit for you.” Emily’s smile is the small, private kind—not the dazzling one she flashes for the camera. “If you ever did want to get back into modeling though, let me know. My agent is taking on new clients.”

I shake my head immediately. “There is no way that will happen.”

“She’s not like Ryan,” Emily assures me. The sound of that man’s name is like someone dragging a razor blade down my spine. “She’s wonderful. Supportive of her clients, tough as nails when it comes to negotiating a contract.”

“I’m so happy for you,” I assure her. “But my modeling days are long past. It’s been five years. No one gets back into modeling when they’re thirty.”

“Things have changed,” Emily says. “There are so many more avenues into modeling now. It’s not all catwalks and photoshoots. I make as much money on social media as I do in my official modeling gigs—I only do those to stay relevant.”

“I prefer working behind the scenes. Give me a big fashion show to plan, and I’m your girl. Walking in that show, however ... those days are over.”

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