Finding the exit, I step out and deeply breathe the fresh air. I look down, seeing a man sitting on one of the steps off to the right, smoking. Leaning forward onto his elbows, he looks familiar with his broad shoulders and longish dark brown hair skimming his collar. He moves, and I can clearly see his profile.

“Alexander?”

He blows out a puff of smoke before turning. His eyebrows rise as he gives me a megawatt smile. “Hey there.”

He quickly puts out his half-finished cigarette as though not to offend me, stepping on it with a shiny black shoe. I wish he hadn’t. The smell reminds me of Slade.

I miss him so much. It’s been a week. Seven painful days of burying myself in work and preparations for this wedding. Slade hasn’t called, and I refuse to call Eve for information. I deserve an apology from him. I can’t be that girl who calls her best friend for scraps of information on a man. I spent my twenties doing that, and those days are done. I’m looking for the man of my life, and I refuse to play games. Still, my heart feels on the verge of shattering.

“Do you have another?” I ask, gesturing to his pack of Marlboros.

He opens it in offering. I bend down to slide out a cigarette before he stands, lighting me up with his silver Zippo. He sits back on the step, and I unceremoniously plop myself next to him. My gown pools around me. If my dress gets dirty, I’ll live.

“How did you get your start in the restaurant business?” I need him to change the subject going on repeat in my mind—Slade and the fact that he hasn’t reached out.

Alexander, not shy in the least, starts talking. But, as opposed to the last time, it doesn’t sound like he’s boasting. I’m honestly impressed with his rags-to-riches story. He started out doing small-time club promotions at NYU. After befriending one of the club owners, they partnered up. Alexander would run the operation, and his friend would find the money. Over time, he made enough connections in the business to raise his own money for ventures. Seven restaurants and four nightclubs later, he’s still going strong.

“And what about you?” He turns his dark gaze to mine.

I can feel his interest, but I ignore it. I don’t want to give him any ideas, but I’m also not ready to return to the party.

“I’m actually considering getting a master’s in social work. I’ve been working as a legal secretary for a while, but I’m not really liking it anymore, and I don’t want to go to law school either.”

“Good plan.” He nods. “Every lawyer I know hates it.”

“Don’t I know it.” I inhale the smoke into my lungs, and it turns me slightly light-headed. Perks of being a nonsmoker, I guess. Taking a moment to assess the man before me, I ask, “How old are you?”