What Happens to Men When They Move to Manhattan?. Jill Knapp
Чтение книги онлайн.
Читать онлайн книгу What Happens to Men When They Move to Manhattan? - Jill Knapp страница 5
Название: What Happens to Men When They Move to Manhattan?
Автор: Jill Knapp
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
isbn: 9780007594672
isbn:
He cupped my face in his hands and softly said, “Amalia, you’re the one”.
I was petrified. No one had ever told me I was “the one”, and certainly never with such conviction and confidence that Nicholas had presented. He spoke as if the alternative, me not being “the one”, was impossible. After taking a few days to think about this proposal, of him and I taking a huge leap into a full-blown relationship that could end badly, ultimately causing us to never speak again, I decided it was worth the risk if it meant I got to be with someone who loved me so intensely. It was now two years later, and I had never felt happier.
Remembering that night only made me feel more relieved and comforted by his familiar presence when he walked over to me tonight.
“I come bearing gifts!” he said as he excitedly reached into a plastic Duane Reade bag.
I wrapped the blanket around me and sank a little lower into the couch, fully preparing myself to be taken care of. Even with his cap on, I could see that Nicholas’s dark hair had grown out well past the point of needing a haircut, but somehow it only made him look sexier.
“Nyquil, tissues, organic green tea, and Vitamin C,” he proudly presented as he systematically placed the contents of the bag in a line on my coffee table.
After emptying the contents of the bag, he took off his hat and threw it on the table, revealing his perfectly straight, gorgeous jet-black hair. He then leaned over me and put his hand on my forehead; his hands were always warm and comforting. I immediately closed my eyes in reaction to the warm rush of what I could only recognize as love. True love that formed when you knew someone perfectly for years before you even began dating them, not the kind of quick lust that was elicited when a near-stranger offers you a lozenge. Having been raised by an atheist mother, the notion of faith to me was as well received as believing in the tooth fairy. However, when it came to Nicholas, the cynical, black-and-white realist that had been ingrained in me from an early age seemed to disappear. I firmly believed that we were meant to be soul-mates. I opened my eyes and stared into his. His eyes were by far his best feature. They were perfectly round and impossibly wide and youthful, a light chestnut color with flakes of deep brown, which masculinized an otherwise feminine trait.
“Hi, baby,” I purred dreamily, slipping further into bliss. His strong arms were exactly what I needed to fall into after a day of feeling awful.
“Hello, darling,” he answered sweetly, stroking my hair and pulling me closer to him.
I could smell his Acqua di Gio cologne, and I was convinced it was the greatest scent in nature. I could feel him breathing as he gently put my heavy head on his chest. All of the chaos and stress of the previous day had vanished. This was exactly what I needed. I felt the warm envelopment of sleep coming.
“Tell me you love me,” he whispered as he pushed my hair off of my face.
I smiled, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. Before I could even take a swig of Nyquil, I was out.
“You’re a damn idiot,” Cassie rolled her eyes as she tried to flag down the bartender at Oliver’s Tavern.
Except her nasty comment wasn’t directly at the cute, hipster bartender, it was directed at me.
“You’ve been in love with Michael since the first day you met him, I remember you going on and on about how he made you shake his hand,” she said, annoyed at both me and now the hipster.
Cassandra was not used to not getting her way, or in this case, her order taken. She was growing increasingly annoyed at the bartender for not paying attention to her despite her best efforts.
I looked around the bar. I couldn’t help but notice the place was overly crowded for a Thursday evening, containing mostly an older scene. I checked my watch; it wasn’t even nine, way too early for this kind of crowd. Even through all of the yuppie noise, I could hear Third Eye Blind’s “Semi-Charmed Life” playing over the speakers and had a brief flashback to summer camp. In the left corner of the room I noticed a group of four good-looking men in suits, probably bankers, laughing too loudly. Finally, the exasperated bartender appeared in front of us.
Before he could even ask what we wanted, Cassandra said, “It’s about time! Gin and tonic, and not any of that cheap well shit. Make sure you put Tanqueray in there.” she commanded without even looking up, “I can tell the difference.”
A little embarrassed by her tenacity I said sheepishly, “Jack and Coke. Please.” Adding the please as an attempt to soften the experience and minimize the chances of spit being in her drink in addition to her high-class gin.
He made the drinks in record time and slammed them down in front of us, spilling a good amount of mine onto the bar, but thankfully missing any of my clothes.
“I mean,” she started in again as she plucked the lime out of her drink and dropped it onto the bar, “I can’t believe you haven’t done anything about this sooner.”
She sipped her drink and then finally met my gaze. I suddenly felt very alert.
“Woah, wait a minute, I’m not doing anything. What are you talking about?” I said, a little confused by her vigilant attitude.
She looked at me, straw in mouth, and cocked her head to the side as if to say “You know what I mean.”
“Cass, Michael and I are just friends.” I said calmly, hoping to disarm the attack that I knew was coming. Clearly not buying it, Cassandra let out a laugh, but it sounded more like a snort. “Sure, he’s a good-looking guy, but I’m not doing anything! For starters, I have a boyfriend who I love.” I pressed my hands to my chest, watching as she shook her head at me.
Even though Cassandra was my best friend, she had only met Nicholas a handful of times and for some reason unbeknownst to me, she wasn’t his biggest fan. I believed her disdain for him had something to do with the first time they met. He had made a joke about her name; I couldn’t recall the details since I was already three or four drinks in when the misunderstanding happened, but the whole ordeal had left a bad taste in Cassie’s mouth.
“Secondly,” I said and then paused to take a sip of my drink. I suddenly felt a strong relief from the alcohol that was in front of me, “Michael has a girlfriend, in case you had forgotten.”
“Hello! Who lives in Phoenix!” she practically shouted, at the same time as the bartender walked by. He shot us a look, and then smiled politely.
“That bartender’s pretty cute; you shouldn’t be such a bitch to him,” I muttered.
“Don’t try to change the subject, Amy!” she said, now grinning. She held up one finger and shook her head. Her blonde hair bounced from side to side.
She was the only person on earth who could get away with calling me Amy. After all, Amy is in no way short for Amalia, but in eighth-grade gym class she decided my actual name was too much of a mouthful and has been calling me Amy ever since. She could obviously tell I was not amused by this СКАЧАТЬ