Page 43 of I'm Looking for a Man in Finance
Central Park was nothing short of gorgeous at this time of year. The leaves were impossibly green, the spring blossoms popped like watercolor against the evening sky. Somehow everything seemed more vivid, like the park had tuned itself to the same frequency within me.
I’d started to second guess choosing a private cooking class with Melody Garrett as I waited for Hallie to arrive earlier. Not because I didn’t think she’d enjoy it, I knew she would. It felt too thoughtful. Too revealing. Like I was showing my hand when I wasn’t supposed to. But I’d taken a chance anyway, and used my connections to ask Melody to do a class for us. She just happened to be a friend of my mother’s, who’d been visiting her restaurants for years. If that exposed my growing feelings for Hallie, then so be it.
This wasn’t meant to be real. She was writing her articles. I needed a good review. But somewhere between her jokes at the bar and the way she looked at me when sheate the first bite of laksa, I’d started to see Hallie in a different light.
I didn’t think she saw it that way, though. For Hallie, this was probably still just a series of interviews wrapped in dinner dates. Good content. A career move. But knowing that didn’t make it easier to resist the way I wanted to get to know her more.
“Well,” she started, as we dodged a crowd that had formed to watch a street performer play their music. “They’re good people. They still live in my childhood home. My dad retired last year from the United States Postal Service and spends all his free time doing DIY around the house. I think he finished standing garden beds last week for my mom. My mom is a math teacher at the high school I went to and is beloved by all her students. My younger sister got married a few years ago and is pregnant with her first child. She and her husband, Devin, live down the road from my parents.”
I nodded, taking it in. “How did they feel when you moved to New York City?”
“They didn’t really understand it. They still don’t, really,” Hallie said, slowing as we reached the Bethesda Terrace. I stood back and watched as she approached the fountain, her shoulders rising and falling with a thoughtful breath. “They’re perfectly content with their lives in Terry, Ohio. They’ve got great friends there and don’t see themselves leaving that community. But, amazing as they are and as much as I love being at home, I’d always felt restless. I knew there was more out there for me. I couldn’t see myself staying there for the rest of my life.”
“So, you chased your dreams,” I said, watching her.It was admirable, moving across the country to a place where you had no family or connections. All to chase a dream. While I had followed the path of so many generations of my family before me.
She turned, her expression lightening, “I just figured why not make the big move in my twenties. I can always move back. Not that I think I will now. New York has my heart. Besides,” she added with a grin, “Ohio bagels just don’t cut it.”
God, she had a great smile.
“What about you? I don’t think you’ve talked much about your family outside of the restaurant.” Hallie dropped down onto a bench, and I sat beside her, stretching my arm across the back. My fingers nearly skimmed her shoulder, but I hesitated. The impulse to touch her was almost instinctual, but I wasn’t sure if it would be welcome—or just another part of the illusion she was maintaining.
“Well,” I started, willing my voice to sound steady, “I’m an only child. My mom and dad met when they were in their early twenties. My mom comes from a finance family—big Wall Street legacy, lots of expectations. But my father grew up in Brooklyn, working for the family business.”
“How’d they meet?” she asked, completely unaware of how tightly I was wound beside her, like a thread ready to snap.
“At a bar, in Brooklyn. My mom had gone out with some friends for the evening, and they’d decided to get out of Manhattan for the night. She met my dad and, as the story goes, they hit it off instantly. But my mom’s family didn’t receive it well, initially.”
A frown creased Hallie’s face. “Why not?”
“Well, my dad didn’t come from money and my grandfather hadn’t thought that he was respectable enough for my mother. He was worried that he was after her wealth.”
Hallie shook her head, strands of her beautiful brown hair falling across her face. “That’s terrible.”
“Despite his harsh assumptions, my grandfather was just trying to protect my mom. He regretted it later on. He and my father grew to have a fond relationship before my grandfather passed.”
Hallie let out a thoughtful hum. “It’s a bit like Romeo and Juliet, isn’t it?”
“Except they ended up with a happy ending,” I said, with a smile.
As if on cue, a wave of disappointment washed over me when Hallie shifted forward, putting more space between us. My hand had been a hair’s breadth from resting on her shoulder, and the sudden distance made me feel like something was slipping through my fingers.
“Do you enjoy what you do?” She stared thoughtfully at me with her elbow propped on her bent leg and her head cradled in her hand. “Being a financial analyst, I mean? Or did you just become one because you thought you should follow in your family’s footsteps?”
I could see why she’d ask. My career path might seem predictable, especially in comparison to hers. But it wasn’t quite that simple. My parents had always made it clear I could do anything I wanted, but I still gravitated toward numbers.
During school, I’d been the typical high achiever—getting good grades, playing multiple sports, doing my fair share of extra curriculars. But I’d spent my free timeworking at Rossi Pizzeria, and at one point I had thought I would become a business owner myself or even take over from my uncle and father when the time came. It wasn’t until college when I took my first economics class that everything fell into place for me.
“I love it,” I said, my voice a little more passionate than I intended. It was true. I wanted to make a difference in finance, build something of my own. “And I hope to one day have my own firm.”
“Married to the job,” Hallie mused, leaning back again. Right into my waiting hand.
It wasn’t much of a touch—a mere brush against her back—but it felt like an electric shock, sending a jolt straight to my chest. My heart slammed against my ribs, and the awareness of her, of how close she was, made it hard to focus on anything else.
“Working in finance takes more dedication and time than the average job. I’m aware of that. But until I have someone in my life that means more to me than numbers, I’ll be dedicated to my job.”
Hallie seemed lost in thought for a moment, and I wondered if I’d said the wrong thing.
“I suppose I understand it,” she said after a beat. “Dating in the city hasn’t gone particularly well for me. So, I threw myself into writing and trying to move my career along.”
