In a New York Minute(61)

Duffy then leaned in toward the group, her face ready to gossip. “My first husband and I met in high school.” This was said with an eye roll, and the group tittered in response. “But Ray—number four—and I met on a double date. We were both set up with other people and went home with each other.”

The story swapping continued—tales of first glances, drunken kisses, and lackluster anniversaries—until suddenly Ellen pushed her glasses up her nose and reached to grab my arm across the group. “Your man is here,” she said, her mouth rounded in gleeful shock. “From the subway.”

Cleo turned her head and then whipped back toward me. “Oh my god, Franny,” she murmured in my ear. “Hayes is here. Like, right behind you.”

I swiveled out of her reach to look, and, sure enough, Hayes was walking toward us.

“Hello again,” he said, offering me a small smile as he fiddled with the sleeve of his jacket.

“Hi,” I said, feeling the same nervous giddiness bubble up in my stomach that had appeared when I laid eyes on him earlier.

He turned to Cleo. “I don’t believe we’ve met yet. Hayes Montgomery.”

She shook his outstretched hand. “Cleo Kim. Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you. Obviously. Oh, and this is my mom, Miriam Kim.”

Hayes greeted Miriam politely, but before she could respond, Ellen had cut in. “I’m a fan,” she said, all toothy smile and charm. “It’s so nice to see the two of you are actually an item.”

Hayes glanced at me, ran a hand through his hair, and smiled back at Ellen.

“Ah, well, I hate to disappoint you, but Franny and I are just working together, actually. She’s designing my new office space.”

There was much oohing and aahing over this. He chuckled and looked back at me, a hint of red popping up on his lovely, smooth skin.

“Franny, I, uh, wanted to see if you might want to dance when the band picks up again.”

His eyes, dark and serious, stared directly at me. Into me.

“Oh! Oh.” My brain spun like a Ferris wheel.

“This is how my second husband and I met,” I heard Duffy say to Miriam. “A gala just like this one. Danced all night. Then he left me for one of the partners at his law firm.”

“Sure,” I said, straining to remain calm and cool. “That would be fun.”

“I’ll come back over in a few minutes, then,” he said as he tugged on the edge of his collar.

“Okay.” I nodded, exhaling as I smiled. My heart was racing.

As soon as he was a few feet away, I turned toward Cleo. “That’s what I wanted to tell you earlier. I saw Hayes at the auction table, and he told me Serena dumped him tonight.”

Cleo squeezed my bare arm, her lips pressed together, holding back a smile. “Now this is exciting,” she said.

“Is it?” I asked, my brain racing to pick apart tonight’s interactions with Hayes so far. “Maybe he’s just being polite.”

“Oh, Franny.” Cleo patted me on the tip of my nose with her index finger. “You’re so clueless sometimes.”

“Excuse me, I once came very close to qualifying to be on College Jeopardy!”

“Which is why it’s extra-adorable when you’re this dense.” Cleo tilted her head and gave me a loving stare. “Franny, didn’t we discuss this in the park the other day? All the evidence is right there in front of you. Connect the dots, please.”

She paused for a beat, staring at me expectantly. “He’s into you. Am I right?”

She opened the conversation up to the group, all of whom were watching us, with an open-palmed wave of her hand.

My insides twisted. “Um, no, he’s not.”

“Trust me. I can tell,” Miriam said, nodding at her daughter.

“Mrs. Kim, I literally work for him now. He’s just being polite.”

“So you’re spending a lot of time together,” Ellen said. “Getting to know each other.”

“Talking about desks and light fixtures,” I clarified.

“And he must find that very interesting, because he just asked you to dance,” Duffy chimed in now, manicured, diamond-covered hands studiously clasped under her chin. “Get ready, dear. He’s on his way over.”

*



The dance floor glowed, lit up in a dim-blue hue and the soft flickering light of candles. I knew that later in the evening—according to Cleo anyway—things would get raucous, with this crowd of hedge fund CEOs and bankers dancing past midnight. But it was only nine, maybe a little bit past that, and the band was playing a soft, jazzy tune, like something you’d hear in a café at brunch. All around me, couples were dancing closer than I’d realized from the sidelines. I’m not sure what I’d thought we were going to do when I agreed to this—a choreographed eighties-style number?—but dancing cheek to cheek was not it.

Hayes’s hand pressed gently on my lower back, guiding me through chatting couples, close talkers, and laughing circles of friends around the room, until we reached the edge of the dance floor. He leaned in closer to talk, but his voice was still quiet over the din of the music. “Do you want to lead?”

I turned to give him a look and was met by a grin more wicked than I’d ever seen on his face. I poked him in the shoulder as retaliation. “Normally, I would, but I literally have no idea how to do this.”