Come As You Are(3)

“I do,” Nova continues in her perfectly modulated tone. “I loved what you said about how both partners need to come to the table with clarity on what they each bring to a deal. With that in mind, I was hoping you had a second to listen to a pitch of mine?”

I stop walking and give her my full attention. “What have you got?”

“I’d like to propose I become your wife.”

I snap my head back. Must have heard her wrong. “Excuse me?”

She nods, her expression business-like. “I have my top five reasons why I’m not an ordinary trophy wife. First, I have a master’s degree; second, I’m studying Japanese, which was your minor in college. Third, I’m a judo master. And the fourth reason why I should become your wife—we have similar taste. I also like watching The Mindy Project and Silicon Valley, and I know those are your favorite shows,” she says, and damn, she does her research. “And the fifth reason—I’m a fine cook, especially when it comes to Italian, and that’s your favorite cuisine.”

“It is.” She’s really researched me, as if I’d posted a request for a proposal online.

“I do hope you’ll consider my application to become your wife, Flynn.” She says it all with a straight face as if a clear and concise proposal is what it takes to get down the aisle.

The floor is mine, though, and I give her an equally clear and concise response. “While I’m immensely impressed with your research and attention to detail, especially the very clever way of presenting it as a top five list, I’m not in the market for a wife.”

She knits her brow, a flash of worry in her eyes as I pick up the pace again, walking toward the lobby. “I understand. Though, I hope you’ll reconsider because I have many other skills you might find useful. Shall I share my top five things I’m willing to do to please you in the bedroom?”

And that is one hell of a 180-degree turn in tactics.

Before I can answer with an even firmer no, a boxy security guard stalks over, drops a hand to Nova’s shoulder, and barks at her, “I told you, you’re not welcome here. I don’t know how you slipped in, but I’m going to escort you out once more. You must actually pay to attend the conference.”

She wails, changing her approach yet again. “Flynn, don’t let them take me away. I want to marry you. I’ll let you spank me. I’ll let you bite me. Pull my hair. Call me names. You can dress me up like a doll. See? That’s five things. Just marry me. I’ll give you all the free pizza you want.”

Oops. Guess that mic was still hot.

I give her a goodbye wave as I deadpan, “That’s okay. I can afford pizza.”

“I’ll be in the lobby at your office to propose to you again. I love you madly. I have ever since you were on the cover of Business Insight’s ‘Hottest Tech Nerds Under Thirty’ edition.”

“That was a good photo,” I say drily, thinking of the shot from two years ago when I was twenty-seven. “So that’s understandable.”

The security guard yanks the woman’s hands behind her back. “Time to go, miss. No pizza where you’re going.” He turns to me. “I’m so sorry about this, Mr. Parker.”

“Hey, no worries. It’s all in a day.”

As he drags her away, she twists around to face me and shouts, “Pepperoni. You can eat pepperoni off my stomach.”

“Tempting, but I’ve never cared for pepperoni.” I give the latest gold digger a “good riddance” wave. Props to her—she used a different angle before throwing herself at me.

Once I exit the hotel on Sixth Avenue, I pop in some earbuds. Time to use the shield of the modern New Yorker, since it’s clearly another day, another marriage proposal.

Maybe I sound calloused. Maybe I am.

I have nothing against marriage, nothing against women, and nothing against love. In fact, I wouldn’t mind settling down one day. But I don’t know how I’ll ever find the right one. As soon as someone knows who I am, all I am is a bank account.

Yeah, yeah, woe is me. Grab the violin and sing a lament. I deserve zero sympathy for my mega first-world problem. Poor little rich boy can’t find love.

I don’t expect anyone to feel sorry for me. I’m one of the luckiest bastards around, but being ridiculously successful sure does make dating hard. I honestly can’t remember the last time a woman was interested in me—just me, and not my wallet.

Today’s impromptu proposal might be the epitome of my biggest dating challenge because I wasn’t just hit on. I wasn’t merely pitched. I was dug.

Gold dug.

And I’m tired of it.





2





Sabrina



Today I will get rid of the albatross.

I will extradite it from my life and make some moolah to boot.

I gaze up at the sign on the glass door for the consignment shop in the West Village. This shop has the highest ratings on Yelp for its offers on never-been-used items. The sign Once More is etched in calligraphy on the glass.

I square my shoulders, run a hand over my braid, and turn to my best friend, Courtney. I give her a crisp nod. “Today’s the day.”

She pumps a fist and utters a quiet but victorious yes.

“Try not to get too excited,” I tease.