Page 4 of Manhattan Heart

C H A P T E R 2

India

The saying is, if you can make it in Manhattan, you can make it anywhere.

While I’ve had my ups and epic downs, one of them being homeless and jobless at the same time,way to go, India. I think I’m well and truly over the hump of life and making it like any socially functional Manhattanite.

I love the city. I love the stores and the little bakeries and the off the wall bookstores. The city is so eclectic that walking from A to B, you see a varying array of tastes and I love it all.

The hustle and bustle. The noise and the constant irritation of people trying to get somewhere.It’s the city that not only lives on a 24-7 loop but it breathes its own frantic pulse too.

It’s home, and for the first time in years I’m going to be living outside of it.

It’s like that Sex and the City episode when Miranda had to move to Brooklyn.

Only our move is by choice and I can’t wait to be a homeowner.

We casually house hunted,just for fun, Gray said. Sure, spending millions is fun. Crazy man. When we happened to both like the same place we casually, no pressure, booked a viewing. Fell deeper in love with the two story, high ceilings, six bedrooms and closed off backyard. And the best part is, no neighbors whatsoever. Someone was looking down on us that day, because the house is amazing.

It was perfect for us and right there, with just a few shared words while the realtor licked her lips, probably sensing a huge commission in her future, he made an offer.

Fast forward six weeks to now and we’re just waiting to close.

Mom is settled with her new husband; she doesn’t need me so close for daily check-ups anymore.

I see my baby brother every other weekend and my relationship with my dad is tentative bordering on getting better.

Some days I still wait for the other shoe to drop, but my therapist says that’s normal. And I haven’t been normal in such a long time that I need to pinch myself to remember this is my life now.

It’s so epically sweet going home to Gray every night, lounging in our big bed and seeing his smiling face on the pillow next to me. I don’t even know who I am anymore, and that’s a good thing because the woman I was before Gray was ten kinds of fucked up and playing the pretend game.

Now I’m my authentic self. Goodandbad.

My friend circle has dwindled in the last few years, mostly because I cut out the toxicity that is not good for me. The party animals, the drug takers, the ones who don’t have my best interest at heart. I never thought I’d be that girl who prefers being with her man, but when your man is Gray Ellison, sorry, girls, I’m staying home tonight.

Plus, my best girlfriend has a brood of kids so we can’t go to the club every weekend anymore. I forget how many kids, it could be twenty by now with the way her and Noah procreate, like they think the end is near and they need to repopulate the earth.

I shudder thinking about kids, but then on odds days … usually when I’m hormonal and eating my weight in Apple Jacks, I wonder what a little girl with Gray’s eyes and selfless nature would look like.

She’d have my temper, of course, so she’d throw epic tantrums.

And then, that always leads me to her teenage years where she will undoubtedly send me to an early grave. I pretty much fall off the kid wagon after that.

Yes, I’m a woman nearing thirty and I choose not to have kids. Hold back the pitch forks. We all don’t aim to push out humans from our vagina. It doesn’t make me less of a woman. Early on, Gray and I had that talk. If he’d had a strong desire for kids, then I’m pretty positive we wouldn’t be here today.

I’d never hold him back from what he wanted in his life.

Another friend I have kept in my life is Gabby. We see each other every few weeks or months, depending on life, but we all make an effort to get together for birthdays. We drink Long Island iced tea, bitch about work, gossip about blowjobs and she avoids talking about that mafia-like boss of hers she wants to bang the hell out of. It’s my kind of friendship. Low maintenance but easy to pick back up.

Next on deck in the friend stack is Catie. I don’t know her as well as I do the other two, but we met two summers ago at one of Sena’s summer BBQ parties. At first glance she looks like the typical Manhattan socialite, someone I would have pretended to be besties with a few years back when I wore myI’m living life to the fullestmask and I would have been wrong, because the girl is hella fun.

She definitely has a redheaded smartass mouth which makes her hilarious, especially when she’s drunk. And it’s funny to watch her lead her sexy as hell Irish husband around by his faithful dick.

It’s a tossup who has the most devoted hubby.

We certainly laugh about it over amaretto sours.

My point is, I have real connections in the city now.

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