“Aw. I knew that guy had it in him. Are you guys over the moon or what? You picked a date yet? Can I be your best man?”
“Yes, I’m very happy. No, we haven’t picked a date. And yes, you can be my…man of honor.”
Evan grinned. “I’ll take it.” He clapped a few times. “Oh, girl, this is going to be the most fun.”
“Really? I never would have guessed you’d get much into wedding planning.”
“Hey, my love life is DOA right now. Work is a little slow. I need a project.” Evan shrugged. “Also, I told you so.”
“I know, I know. I should listen to you more often.”
“I am usually correct. Oh, speaking of, there’s your man.”
Lauren looked through the glass door. Caleb had just gotten in the coffee line, as was part of his pre-work routine. He looked up and saw her standing next to Evan. He waved. Evan waved back.
“Am I the first person you told?” Evan asked.
“Yup. Before Facebook, even.”
“Wow. I’m flattered.”
“Is Paige here? I didn’t see her at the counter?”
“Do you not know your own employees’ schedules? I know them and I don’t even work here.”
“What?”
Evan laughed. “Paige had some big date last night. I’m betting it was a disaster, just like all her other dates have been lately. Either way, she took today off. I haven’t heard from her yet, though, so maybe it was fine.”
“A big date? Do you know who with? Was it that fussy chef Lindsay has been trying to set her up with?”
Evan shrugged. “She didn’t say.”
As Lauren moved to go tell Caleb to have a good day, Evan called out, “If you’re going up there, can you get me a blueberry muffin?”
“Yes, fine.”
Lauren walked through the door. She slid into the line with Caleb and took his hand. “Good morning again,” she said.
“Morning. Everything here looks under control.”
“Yeah, it seems to be. Although I can’t wait until we finally find the right pastry chef, because we’re already down to the last bagel, and it would be nice if we had someone in back who could, like, whip up another batch.”
“Are bagels really the sort of thing you just whip up?”
“I dunno. I don’t know how to make bagels. I’m just saying.”
“Did you figure out the health inspector situation?”
“Diane’s lawyer is supposed to come by tomorrow.”
They got to the front of the line then. Caleb ordered his regular coffee to go and Lauren asked for a couple of muffins.
After Caleb doctored his coffee, he gave Lauren a kiss on the cheek. “I gotta go take care of some animals.”
“My hero.”
“I’ll check on that kitten Mitch brought in for you and let you know at lunchtime if I can. If not, I’ll see you at dinner. Fiancée.”
Lauren smiled broadly. She liked the sound of that. “All right. Fiancé. Have a good day.”
He smiled. “I will. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Lauren watched him go. Then she turned back to the cats.
Head back to Whitman Street for more romance and animal hijinks in Book Two of the Whitman Street Cat Café series
Coming soon from Sourcebooks Casablanca
Chapter 1
Landing a job at a high-powered corporate law firm was not all it was cracked up to be.
At eight o’clock, Mr. Provost’s paralegal carried a stack of files into Josh Harlow’s office. Josh glanced outside. He had an office, at least. The internship he’d finished at Davis, Cash, and Lee the summer between his second and third years had ensured that he’d be offered a good job at a great salary upon graduating from law school and passing the Bar, which he’d done last summer. Josh certainly couldn’t complain on that front; his salary was adding a lot of padding to his bank account right now. Unfortunately, he never got to spend any of it because he spent every waking hour at this very desk.
“Mr. Provost wants a summary of the Donaldson depositions before he has to be in court at ten on Thursday.”
“Yeah, no problem. I’ll just squeeze that in between the Appleton case and the O’Dwyer paperwork.”
The paralegal winced and left the office.
Josh sighed and gazed out the window. His office faced Sixth Avenue, about three blocks south of Rockefeller Center. He could see roving bands of tourists walking up and down the street, the lights on the signs of the bodegas and souvenir stores and clothing shops and grab-and-go lunch spots across the street. He’d been so absorbed in what he’d been working on that day that he hadn’t noticed the sun setting.
New York City had a lot of lawyers, but it also had a lot of ex-lawyers, and Josh was starting to understand why.
When he finally left the office close to midnight, he took advantage of the company car service account and got a ride home. His apartment was in a massive high rise in downtown Brooklyn, and given that he’d started work at DCL about a week after he’d moved to the city, he hadn’t had time to decorate or, well, furnish the apartment yet, despite living there for almost six months. The bed, the old sofa, and the kitchen stuff had come from his apartment in Georgetown, but most of his books were still in boxes, his refrigerator was empty except for energy drinks and an expired bottle of milk, and the desk he intended to set up was still packed in a long, slim box, waiting to be assembled.
On the way into the building, he stopped to say hello to Bill, the doorman. He’d picked this building because it was about eight blocks down Whitman Street from the cat café where his sister worked and had an upstairs apartment. When he’d signed the lease, he had a vision of popping down there on weekends to say hi and hang out. He spent his weekends now mostly sleeping or working.
Something had to give. Josh was fucking tired.
As he brushed his teeth, he thought idly about Megan and
