I realized I wasn’t the only one caught in some kind of spell. The hostess and server had gone quietly back to their work, but Sia’s mouth was hanging open. She still stared at where they’d disappeared.

I waited for her to snap out of it, thankful for the time to compose myself. That man, whoever he was, he’d affected me in a way no other had—since Liam. And at the thought of him, a bucket of ice crashed over me.

“Addison.” Sia finally managed, her eyes still locked on the two guys standing at the stairs. “Oh my—did you see that?”

I coughed, clearing my throat. “What do you mean?”

“That guy.” She leaned forward. “He was gorgeous!”

The image of him flashed in my head. A different burning flared up. “He was. Yes.” I could admit that much. “He was also scary looking.”

“Negative,” Sia declared with a quick head shake. “He was absolutely breathtaking. Forget your building manager. I want to know who that guy is and how can I be his wife.”

A genuine laugh came from me. This was vintage Sia. She had a new project, and it wasn’t me. Thankfully. I had no doubt she’d hunt the guy down, find out who he was, and do as she’d promised, or at the very least have a hot fling.

“Seriously.” She fanned herself. “I’ve never seen that man before, and I know almost everyone around here. Who could he be?”

“I have no clue.”

“I suppose not.” She skimmed over my face. “Oh, babe. You look a little flushed. The wine must be hitting you, huh?”

I nodded, but it wasn’t the wine. “Yes, let’s go, please.”

Sia laughed, sliding out of the booth. I followed suit, and we walked back to my new home, armed with our food and two bottles of wine. No one had better mess with us. Our wobbly knees would be the death of them. I was grateful when Sia threw her arm around my shoulders again. It made me feel steady. She transferred her food to me so she only had to hold the wine and rested her head against mine.

We went home that way, and when we entered my apartment I remembered: I had no clue where anything was.

The next month was glorious.

I woke up every morning to bustling traffic and pedestrians darting back and forth on the streets below. The view took my breath away, and it never stopped. And it was quiet. That had been my only concern, having a resident below and above me, but I shouldn’t have worried at all. I heard nothing to even indicate that I had neighbors.

However, I’d seen one a couple times when I went to the gym. She looked to be in her early thirties, and as soon as I entered to hit the treadmill, she grabbed her towel and bottle of water and left. I thought it was me, but the fourth time I arrived, she was just starting, and she stayed the whole hour. I saw her a few other times after that, but she kept her head down and focused on her workout until she left.

In a way, it was a nice break from all the attention I’d received after Liam’s death. So many people had approached me to express their condolences. I knew very few of them. They were the stranger neighbors or Liam’s coworkers. I hadn’t realized how exhausting it had been—the smiles, the warm wishes back to each of them, all people I didn’t know. This woman was frank. She didn’t know me. She didn’t care to know me. I rather liked it.

Once I realized that Monday, Wednesday, and Friday she went to the gym at eleven in the morning, and her Tuesday/Thursday/Saturday schedule was five in the afternoon, I adjusted my routine and went at a different time. Since then we’d passed once in the lobby. I was leaving the elevator, and she was getting on. She gave me her first smile, and I grinned back.

I felt like she was thanking me for leaving her alone.

I didn’t meet another resident until my fifth week living here. I’d started a routine where I grabbed the mail as soon as it came, which was around eleven in the morning. I went to the pool area to open it with a cup of coffee. After that, I’d either go upstairs to read a book, or I’d work out. It depended on whether not-so-friendly neighbor was using the gym or not. In addition to the normal television and movies I watched, I became a CNN addict. There was a restlessness in me, like life was passing me by, and I didn’t want to miss a thing.

Yet when I thought about finding a job or writing a piece, emotions surged up in me. I didn’t want to feel those emotions; I didn’t even want to name them. I just didn’t want them, so I’d go back to doing something that numbed me. Anything.

But everything was different in the mornings. It was a fresh start. Those feelings were pushed all the way down, and this morning was the same. I felt somewhat cheerful as I opened a letter from my realtor. My house was still being shown. I figured. Anything pressing would warrant a phone call or an email.

Then a man entered the pool area behind me.

I glanced up, startled by his presence, and my elbow hit my coffee. “Oh, no.” I bent quickly to snatch it up.

“Here.” The guy came over, grabbing a handful of towels on the way. He knelt, blotting the coffee to absorb it. “Sorry about that,” he said as he looked up.

Young. Tall. And when he looked up at me, close—personal bubble close. He was pretty, or that was how Sia would’ve described him. Tall, dark, and handsome. The cliché fit him perfectly. His body was lean, and judging from the swim trunks and white shirt, swimming was the way he kept himself in shape. He wasn’t gorgeous like the guy from the restaurant. Yes, I am still thinking about him. He didn’t have the same striking, intense eyes or physique. This guy had a rounder face. He was more filled out, but he was still good-looking, and he was waiting for my response.