Page 1 of Lucas & Melissa Falling in Love
Part One - Melissa
Chapter 1
The one thing I never thought I’d be waspoor. Dirt-no-place-to-live-scraping-together-change poor.
But there I was in the hallway outside my apartment—my ex-apartment—my gorgeous, chic, spacious, midtown Manhattan luxury doorman ex-apartment. And I had to turn in the key. I had to leave.
My things had mostly been sold and I’d been sleeping on a comforter laid over the plush carpet of my bedroom all week, dreading this day.
The day I had to go home to my parents’ house. Or live in the street. I almost think I’d rather live in the streets of Manhattan than return home. All the way to Cold Spring, New York, population 2,000, last stop on the Metro North railroad. I cringed.
I did not want to go back to that sleepy town, that quiet life that made me feel like I was a bystander watching my peers rule the world.
Stop sniveling, Melissa Cooper.
A deep breath followed by a deep sigh fortified me enough to pick up my bags and walk down the hall to the elevator. For the last time.
But no, it wouldn’t be the last time, damn it. I’d be back, wouldn’t I? Just because Cooper Development, Ltd., my pride and joy real estate investment firm, had failed, circled the drain and disappeared like yesterday’s dishwater—I nearly sobbed out loud again at this thought—did not mean I wouldn’t come back with another better, even bigger venture. I could do it with all my newfound wisdom.
So what if I had no money? I had valuable insight from the mistakes I’d made.
Mistake number one—don’t trust the lawyers. They’re scum, every last one of them.
Standing in the hall, I looked around at the Christmas lights and tasteful greens festooned artfully around the skating-rink–size mirror on the wall. I looked at myself, sad and out of place surrounded by the applied holiday cheer. I looked like I needed a stiff drink or a good cry. Probably both.
But I didn’t cry. Not ever. Not in a very long time.
But a good stiff drink was the least I could do for myself after losing everything. I hauled my three bags onto the elevator, the last of my worldly possessions. I’d been lucky enough to have a good many valuables to sell so that I could pay off my debts without going bankrupt. That was one humiliation I’d avoided. My back was painfully straight and proud thinking about all those things I’d sold. But I wasn’t bankrupt and they were only things.
And I still had my pride. Didn’t I?
But isn’t it your pride stopping you from telling your friends that you’re out of business, penniless and homeless?
Pride. I still had loads of the damn stuff.
But not so much that I couldn’t stop in at Margo and George’s party for that good stiff drink. We would toast the holidays. I was tempted to think bah humbug, but I didn’t. I smiled instead.
Margo was my best friend in the world and I could use a fortifying hug along with that drink. Before getting on the absolute last possible train home tonight, I’d have my last hurrah.
Once I got to the lobby I was faced with another heart-wrenching moment. The building manager, the concierge, and my doorman, Roy, were all waiting for me. Roy took my bags and the manager took my key. I stared at the key as it hit his hand and his fist closed around it. His fist may as well have closed around my heart. I took a long shaky breath before looking up at the three men.
They’d all been part of my life, men I counted on for various things while I’d lived here the past four years. I cleared my throat.
“No goodbyes,” the concierge said. “It’s only until we meet again, Miss Cooper.”
“Of course. Happy holidays anyway, guys.” I hugged the manager and the concierge, then handed them their traditional holiday envelopes with a less-than-traditional gift inside. They nodded their thanks and receded to their respective offices.
I turned to Roy and he gave me a sad smile and escorted me to the door with my three measly—albeit Louis Vuitton—bags.
“This all you have, Missy?” He’d always called me Missy—kind of his special combination of Miss and Melissa. At first I’d cringed, but it grew on me, like he had. I’d come to appreciate the easy familiarity and his bottomless kindness.
“Afraid so, Roy. Sold it all.”
“Even the Tiffany lamps?”
“Especially the Tiffany lamps. I needed every penny to bail myself out of debt. But it’s done now.” I lifted my chin. Roy was the only one who knew the whole story. Other than the lousy lawyers who had contributed to the downward debacle of my state of affairs.
“Of course it is. You always do what you set out to do.” He shook his head and I wasn’t sure if it was out of empathy or disapproval.
