“Well, this sucks.”
“I’m sorry. Please take care, Ryan.”
“Like you care, Dot. And to think, I was going to ask you...”
But Dot couldn’t stand to hear it and turned and walked back to her building. She folded her arms against her chest and braced against the cold. Albert had watched her run down the street. He was there with a hug for her.
“Aw, Dorothy. Did you just break up with him?”
She nodded, wiping away her tears.
“There, there.” He patted her back. “You did the right thing, dear. You followed your heart. And there’s nothing wrong with that.” He handed her his handkerchief.
“I feel terrible.”
“It would have been worse if you’d kept it going even if you knew it wasn’t right. This way you can both get on with your lives and find your special someone.”
She used the handkerchief to wipe away her tears. “What am I doing, Albert?” He knew she meant with her life in general, not just in that moment.
“Living.” He put his hands on both her shoulders and made her look him in the eye. “You’re going to be fine. You’re an educated woman, living in the best city in the best country in the world. There’s no need to worry about what’s next. What’s next will be what it’s meant to be.”
“Thank you.” She took a staggered breath. “How do you always know what to say?”
“It comes with age. Trust me, everything will all look better tomorrow.”
She smiled weakly, then slowly took the stairs up to her apartment. When she closed the door, she leaned against it and let herself cry.
Then, after a restless night where she tossed and turned in her bed, Dot thought of how Albert was right—everythingdidseem better in the morning.
Two things struck her.
First, she’d woken ready to stop worrying so much about her love life and to start focusing on her career.
And second, she had a big idea of what she wanted to do next with her career.
Chapter 12
The Crew met for dinner in the Village the following Saturday night. The Spaniard was buzzing. The weather was warm, and people were spilling out of the large windows onto West Fourth Street.
Harper got there first and grabbed the table. Mary and Dot arrived at the same time and joined her.
“Jimmy! Gonna need a pitcher of sangria.” Mary called to the bartender whose arm was sleeved in tattoos.
“You should go out with him. Just one night.” Harper raised her eyebrows at Mary.
“Maybe I will!” she said.
“MaybeIwill,” Dot said. They laughed and then realized she wasn’t joking.
“Wait. Are you still with Ryan?” Harper asked.
“Is he going to propose?” Mary was dying to talk about Dot’s stakeout at Tiffany’s.
“He’sproposing?” Harper felt out of the loop.
“He’sdefinitelynot going to propose.” She waited a beat. “Because I broke up with him.”
Harper’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh no!”