20| Mistakes and martinis

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Returning to work after a near-miss with Milo is all but impossible. I scroll through my client list, trying to focus on who I'm to contact about this new open viewing, but all I can think of is the feel of his hands as he whispered those words. 

I love you. 

Maybe if things had gone better that night, we'd still be together. I'd be sitting here, the perfect view of Manhattan behind me, writing a list of things to pack for Disney World. Or maybe I'm wrong, maybe the second we rejoined society, we'd have realized we weren't meant to be.

Milo and I were elevator kisses. We were quick, seductive gazes near the coffee machine and heated, heavy nights in a storm. Like embers of a fire, we were hot but fleeting; the second we burned, we were gone.

But god, was it worth it. Eyes closed, I give myself the satisfaction of picturing him. In my head, he's wearing that same mask from the Christmas party, that cute little bow around his neck. He grabs my thigh, wrapping it around the circumference of his waist as I let out a short, hot breath. I reach out toward him, but this time when I rip off his mask, I don't dare stop. I should never have stopped.

Somehow, despite my fantasizing, I manage to get some work done. I've emailed prospective clients, completed my contract for Laurelle, and emailed several people about upcoming properties, all with less than four cups of coffee. New and improved Kennedy is here to stay.

Miranda stops by at one point to invite me for welcoming drinks. While the last thing I want is to head out for drinks with my ex and a bunch of other people I don't know, I tell her I'll finish up first and meet them there. It's my first day, after all, and if I don't make an effort, it'll make my life ten times more miserable in the long run.

"Sure, whatever," she says and walks toward the window to stare at the skyline. There's an awkward pause, and then, "You must be so happy. I remember the day I was promoted to seven, and it felt like a dream come true."

Something about the tone in her voice confuses me, almost as if somewhere along the line, that dream stopped being a dream. "It's been all I've ever wanted for years," I say as I get up from my desk. I walk around the table toward her, perching myself on the table's ledge. "It's like I thought reaching seven would mean I'm the best real estate agent there is."

She turns now and smiles. "Like we're on top of the world."

I smile because she gets it. I've spent so many years imagining life on this floor, not because of the decor or the office or to work with Laurelle, but because it meant I was good enough. "Exactly. We're on top of the world."

"But we're not," she says, stepping forward. "There are always clients even richer and higher, and part of this role is knowing when to stand and when to fall back, even if it goes against your better judgment."

My heart beats faster. "What do you mean?"

"I'm saying I've seen countless people come and go over the years," she says, "and I think you have what it takes to stick around, but you need to go into this with your eyes open. Don't let the view fool you – it's not pretty when you get to the top." She crosses the room in silence. "We're meeting at La Horde," she then says with a flip of her hair, "I'll see you there, okay?"

She totters off before I can speak, so I turn to my desk and get back to work with a lump in my throat. It's hard to tell whether her warning was fake or somewhat sincere, but either way, it's pulled me down from the high I was on and twisted my stomach in knots.

By the time I've finished working, it's pushing on six, and I'm the last one left on this floor. I gather my things, then wait at the window like the coward I am until Milo exits the lobby. He's as fierce as always in his vampire coat, and I'm tempted to hotfoot it down there and pull him right back, but I don't. I've worked too hard to get to this point and fantasized too long about being on this floor. Despite Miranda's warning, I'm not about to ruin things now.

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