Page 30 of Park Avenue Princess

Chapter 9

Lynne

I’m approaching Union Square by the time I finally slow down and catch my breath. I couldn’t escape Guy’s presence fast enough, practically running as if the hounds of Hell were nipping at my heels.

Dear God, what am I going to do?

A strangled laugh escapes as I’m referencing Hell one minute then Heaven the next.

This is how Guy affects me, making my world go topsy-turvy. Hearing about him from Addy is one thing, but coming face-to-face with him after all these years makes me seem less like the confident woman I thought I was and more like the awkward dork I’d been accused of being throughout most of my school days.

Seeing him again made my chest ache while also bringing my body to life. He’s sexier than ever, yet calm and professional. I can’t believe he didn’t grill me about my rather abrupt departure all those years ago. I can’t believe he even stomached being in the same room as me. But knowing he’s not that type of man only makes me realize what I threw away. I’m grateful he remained cool and I hope he didn’t see the effort it took for me to do the same.

Holding it together hadn’t been easy because I teetered between throwing myself at him and throwing up what little breakfast I managed to put down this morning.

Overwhelmed by too many emotions, I step to the nearest building and lean my back against it as I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. The sounds of the bustling city continue around me as I work at pushing my nausea down and not hyperventilating.

In, two, three, four; out, two, three, four, five.In, two, three—

“If you really want to relax, go inside and book yourself an appointment with Ms. Zoe.”

I jump at the voice directly to my left, and when I open my eyes, I’m staring at a woman dressed as if she’s ready for a yoga class. If that yoga class was for pregnant women ready to give birth at any second. After looking in the opposite direction then back to the woman, I address her.

“I’m sorry, were you talking to me?”

The petite woman who looks like she’s carrying the makings of a basketball team in her belly chuckles. “Yeah, you look like you could use some chill time and Zoe is the best. I’m headed in there myself.”

Looking up at the building, I see no indication of whatthereis, so I have no idea what she’s talking about. My confusion must register with her when she chuckles again.

“I was going in for a massage when I saw you there then heard you counting your breaths.”

“I was counting out loud?” I say like an idiot.

“You were. You must really be stressed. Zoe or Bob can take care of that for you. Zoe specializes in pregnancy massage, and well,” she sweeps her hand down her body. “As you can see, I fit that bill.”

“You can still get a massage in that condition?” The woman laughs and I realize how awful that must’ve sounded. “I’m sorry, that was rude.”

“Don’t worry about it. Apparently I’m only capable of having big babies. This is my third child and I’m due in another month.”

“Another month? Holy cow!”

“Yeah,” she snickers, “sometimes I feel like one.”

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Apparently I’m only capable of hurling insults at complete strangers.”

She waves her hand. “Eh, no worries, I know what you meant. I’m Stephanie, and inside this building is Mahalo Massage. My salvation throughout my pregnancies.”

Mahalo. The Hawaiian term for gratitude.

Hawaii. Oahu.

Guy.

I fight the groan welling, because apparently I just can’t escape him.

“I’m Lynne, and I think I’m in dire need of some salvation.”

“Well then come on in and make an appointment. Obviously you’re not pregnant, but Zoe could still do wonders. Or, are you?”

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