Page 13 of The Escape Plan

Not that I care about any man, fish or otherwise, right now.

“Excellent.” Freya leans back in her chair, looking triumphant. “To interview, all you have to do is submit a sample article, so if—when—you choose to move forward with this, we can brainstorm ideas.” Her eyes sparkle. “Although I think I already have theperfecttopic for you.”

This makes me smile. Once Freya gets this excited about an idea, there’s no stopping her. “What’s that?”

“During my conversation with Nisha, she mentioned that she went to Spring Brook College in Serendipity Springs.”

“Yes! Same place I went to school,” I say with a smile. As one of the head honchos at Evoke, Nisha is automatically an idol of mine, and I have shamelessly googled her. I figured this little tidbit of trivia could be useful should I ever get the chance to meet her.

“Funny, that.” Freya’s voice is carefully calm, and I definitely get the sense that she’s working an angle, true journalist that she is. “Nisha mentioned something interesting about your town that I hadn’t heard before. Apparently, there’s a kind of urban legend about a building there. I can’t remember the name of it, but it’s an old apartment block, and as the story goes, the building has something to do with helping people find love?”

I laugh, trying (and failing) to make the sound seem sweet instead of bitter. “You’re talking about The Serendipity.”

“Yes! That’s the one! Do you know anything about it?”

I snort. “I live in it.”

“You do?” Freya’s eyes get wide. “Anything… legendary about it?”

I smile the smile of a woman scorned, thinking how funny it is that if Freya had asked me this question just one week ago, I might have had something completely different to say. As a fifth generation Serendipitian, I’m all too aware of the lore about the town, and more specifically, about The Serendipity apartment building being a place where you might get lucky in love.

Hah.

“The urban legend is exactly that: an urban legend,” I say fervently. “It’s just a regular old building.”

“Pity.” Freya looks disappointed. “That sounded like it had some juicy potential as a feature article for Evoke. A lighthearted look at finding love on your doorstep.”

For some bizarre reason, instead of thinking of Andrew and all the dinner dates and pool swims and movie nights on the couch we shared in The Serendipity, my thoughts turn right away to the Irish stranger—Beckett—in the elevator this morning. How he caught me with strong, sure arms after I tripped on his guitar case.

If anything has juicy potential for a story, it’s that: a hilariously embarrassing meet-cute with a handsome, mysterious man.

If I believed in meet-cutes. Which I don’t.

Plus, he was a little smug, a little too pleased with himself. A little toopretty.And I guess, in turn, I was a little unnecessarily sharp with him when he tried to help me. Which wasn’t really fair. I was just reeling from the revelation of Andrew and Lisa together, of the fact that I hadn’t just been broken up with… I’d beenleft.

I shove away the memories of twinkling hazel-green eyes and lilting accents, deciding that if I everdosee Irish Stranger again, I will just have to pretend I have amnesia and therefore have zero recollection of our elevatornon-meet-cute.

With that problem sorted, I turn my attention back to the matter at hand and to Freya, who is grinning on the screen.

“Why don’t you take the weekend to think about it—the job and the article you might want to submit for it?”

I’m sure I already know my answer; I want to apply. I want this job. I’m definitely going to need a different article topic, but I have plenty of time to brainstormbetterideas.

And if nothing more comes of it, it will at least give me something else to think about besides Andrew and Lisa.

“Deal,” I say.

Freya smiles.

Chapter Five

Beckett

As it turns out,the fourth floor is not the place to find help with Prenchenko’s mailbox. After a bit of door-knocking and a less than excellent impression left on my new landlord—who’s the buttoned-up, suity type—I locate the building operator’s office. Which, incidentally, was steps from the front door where I first walked inside. Go figure. Steve shows me how to work the most convoluted combination lock on the planet, and I’m finally able to retrieve my apartment key from the mailbox.

Now, as I set my bags down in my new digs on the second floor, I feel much more relaxed.

Mr. Prenchenko’s apartment is more than I could have hoped for. Spacious, yet cozy. And while the multiple framed paintings of wild boar are an interesting touch, I’m extra pleased that the huge windows along the back wall overlook a grassy area.

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