I’m on cloud fucking nine as I leave Molly’s apartment.

She’s incredible. She’s funny, smart, gorgeous, and self-assured. After what just happened, I’m no longer surprised it took this long for us to screw. She’s not like any of the try-hard girls who just want a taste of the fame and want their picture to be taken. They want to get in the paper, heaven only fucking knows why.

I’m okay with being in the paper and on the blogs. It’s fine. But it’s not something I would seek out. In fact, I’m starting to think it’s getting a little bit old.

That’s not what Molly wants. She dodged it. The fact of my wealth and reputation was an immediate turn-off for her. I could see it. Most of the time, the girls in that bar would do anything with any guy with my level of status.

Again - not that there’s anything wrong with that. But after Clarissa?

Molly is exactly what I need.

No, fuck that. She’s what I need in my life because she’s as gorgeous as she is smart, motivated and driven.

There is no fucking comparison between her and any other girl. She’s in another category.

Molly looks for the real me. Maybe it took her a little bit longer than I wanted for her to warm up to me, but now that she really sees me for who I am, I’m going to show her my best.

She’s already shown me her best - that’s her default setting. She’s the best without even having to try. She’s real. She doesn’t have to switch the way she acts, ever.

I think she and I have that in common.

She gives it to you straight.

Fuck, she’s good. Beautiful. Perfect.

I’m nearly whistling as I make my way down to the apartment where I’m staying. I hear the voices of a few men, and they’re talking shop. I stay on the landing I’m on so I can get a better read on what they’re discussing. All I can make out over my thoughts is a cloud of random words. I lean against the wall on the landing above them and peek over.

It’s Lee and a few other guys from his firm. It’s bizarre, seeing them here. It’s like seeing a fucking polar bear on the moon.

Or something. I’m not the writer. Molly is the writer.

Whatever it looks like, it looks weird. But I know immediately why they’re here. There’s really only one reason why a bunch of random finance dudes in Gucci loafers would be in this neighborhood. This is their stupid idea of dressed-down. Gucci loafers. Unbelievable.

I’m at least wearing my Varvatos boots. I blend in. I don’t stick out like a sore thumb like these guys.

These guys. They’re here because they want to buy the building. It’s so obvious. It’s in a good neighborhood, up-and-coming, and I don’t need to pull the comps for the area to know that the market can bear rents two or three times higher than what I’m sure the tenants here are paying. Rich is a good guy, and I’m sure he knows what the fate of the building will be if he sells.

If he’s anything like Mom, he doesn’t want that for the building. If he’s anything like Mom, he wants a place where people can call home. Not a place where some dickheads can knock down a few walls and pour in some money and make a profit on the place over a short term period.

He doesn’t want the building to be a quick investment. I already know that. It would change everything about the place.

I just had no idea Lee was interested in taking his firm in this direction.

Maybe they’re trying to diversify a little. Nothing wrong with that.

I’m sure Rich has had offers before. And he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would gather multiple offers and try to leverage the best deal for himself. He’s a guy who likes being an owner. The fact that he stays here a few nights a week is proof.

We could put an elevator in, make the top two floors a duplex penthouse.

Okay, now I have absolute fucking confirmation of what these guys want to do.

I wonder if Molly knows. She’s relatively new to the building and might not know what’s going on here.

The guys on the floor below me continue down the stairs and make their way through the front door and the storm door, letting it slam shut behind them. I continue down to stairs to the cellar now that the coast is clear.

The absolute last thing I need right now is Lee knowing where I am. I’m staying here to get away from everything. Not to get more involved in something that doesn’t concern me.

I flop down onto the pull-out couch in Rich’s apartment and check my phone. I have 40 unread emails, twice as many texts, and half as many missed calls.

Of course, most of them are from Eric, so I call him back.

“Good god, man. Where the hell have you been?” he barks.

“You mean Mom didn’t tell you? Sarah didn’t say something at the office today?”

“Yeah, Sarah told me you lost your damn mind and decided to take a little vacation.”

“I highly, highly doubt Sarah said that about me. She’s loyal. She supports me in my decisions. Which is more than I can say about you right now.”

“I support you. I think that if you want to disappear for an entire two days, stay somewhere else, go crazy and not shave and turn into a total lunatic, it’s fine. Go and take a plane to Puerto Rico. Get whatever the hell happened between you and Clarissa out of your system. But please, please answer your phone.”

I have to hold the phone away from my ear. My brother is shouting, and I don’t want to risk permanent hearing loss.

“I’m talking to you now, aren’t I?”

“Drew, you cannot do this. When you told me you were getting out of town for a few days, I didn’t know it would involve going off the grid and neglecting our firm. Come back to the city. If you aren’t going to answer your phone, we need you here. If you want to be wherever the hell it is you are, it’s fine, but answer your phone. And if you’re not going to do that, you need to come back so I can keep tabs on you.”

“Keep tabs on me?” I pinch the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. “Look. I met a girl.”

“So you’re back to your old ways? Don’t tell me you’re in Key West right now. Or Nantucket. Please don’t tell me it’s Nantucket. You’ll never be able to get rid of her.”

“It’s not like that, Eric. I don’t want to get rid of her. Actually, you know her.”

“For fuck’s sake. It’s not Clarissa, is it?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? God, no. It’s Molly.”

“From college?”

“No, not Molly from college.”

“Oh, from your real estate broker license class. That was a long time ago, dude. But I guess if you wanted to double-dip, enough time has gone by that it’s okay that you’re back with her.”

“First, that’s gross.”

“That’s a phrase you coined.”

I shake my head. He’s actually right about that.

“Second, it’s actually Molly from the bar the other night.”

“Friday? But you didn’t hook up on Friday.”

“No, I didn’t, but I randomly met her again. It’s the craziest thing. Wait till we tell our kids how their parents met.”

“So, let me get this straight. You are shacked up somewhere with a girl who showed zero interest in you just a few days ago?” Suddenly, his tone changes. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

I nearly hear his arm go up for a high five, even though I’m not there to reciprocate it.

Not that I would have.

“No. Not shacked up. Taking it slow.”

I don’t want to tell him the full truth right away. She deserves better than that.

“Look. I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, but if she is preventing you from doing your job, then you’ve got to do what you always do and just move along.”

“I’m afraid that is not going to happen. Not this time. But look, if it makes you feel better, I’ll come back to the city. On Friday. Okay?”

“Fine. But if anything big happens before then, you have to come back sooner.”

“That seems like a good compromise.”

“Good. But you also have to do something else for me.”

Negotiating. I like it.

“You have to answer your phone.”

“Deal.”