Read Between the Lines (Business of Love #6) - Ali Parker
Chapter 1
Nora
I’d missed the cherry blossom trees that lined the narrow and somewhat precarious street I lived on while I was gone. The asphalt was cracked and patched over countless times with slick black tar that invited cars to hydroplane on wet days. In the spring, there were many of those. Parked cars lined both sides of the street. It was supposed to have two lanes, but due to the dense amount of housing, there wasn’t enough room to park. One side of the street, my side, was comprised of three-story townhomes in terracotta brick. One stairwell went up half a flight to the front door while another plunged down from the sidewalk to suites below street level. Most of them were rental units.
Hence all the cars.
The other side of the street offered modern row homes that had been built roughly four years ago when this area of Manhattan underwent a facelift. That side of the street had Range Rovers, Audis, Beamers, and Mercedes, while my side of the street had Civics, Corollas, and Mazdas with chipped paint.
The class difference didn’t matter here. The street, despite how crowded and busy it was, had always been beautiful, and the bright pink blossoms soaking up the vitamin D on this summer morning were a showstopper.
My cab driver came to a slow stop to go over the first set of speed bumps down the lane.
I leaned forward and gripped the back of his headrest before pointing up ahead out the windshield. “I’m the sixth one on the right,” I said. “I don’t think there will be a spot to park, so I’ll just hop out.”
His eyes flicked to his rearview mirror to make sure nobody was behind us. “Alright, miss.”
I sat back, fished my wallet out of the front zipper of my hiking backpack, and pulled out thirty-five dollars in cash. I handed it over the front seat to him so I wouldn’t hold him up when he dropped me off.
Up ahead, just past the second set of speed bumps, I got out of the yellow cab. My backpack was filled to max capacity and it was a struggle to hoist it over my shoulder, but I managed. After the cabbie drove away, I turned to the sidewalk and looked up at the home I’d been away from for three hundred and sixty-five days.
I’d spent the past year traveling abroad. After feeling smothered by the expectations my family had for me here, I’d booked a one-way ticket to London, hopped on a plane three days later, and gone wherever my heart desired.
My parents, both dentists working at my mother’s practice, hadn’t done a good job of hiding their disappointment and frustration over my decision. I’d been in dental school for almost a year at that point and it was expected that I’d be transitioning over to their clinic once my studies were complete and I was ready to work in the field.
But that had never been my dream. It had been theirs.
I had what I considered a healthy dislike of the public. I believed in the good of people, sure, but I also knew there were a good number of people out there who deserved to have dental floss dragged deep into their gums, and if provoked, I might just become that bitter old dentist who tortured patients in her chair.
After breaking down before tests and realizing how anxious I’d become over being forced into a career I didn’t want, I finally did something for myself.
And it had been worth every second of my parents’ disapproval.
I never would have come home but my funds ran out. I hadn’t made it to even half the countries I wanted to but I’d resigned myself to the fact that I needed to come home, make more money, and travel again when my bank account permitted.
One year, I told myself as I climbed the concrete steps to my black front door. All it would take was one more year and I’d be back on a plane heading wherever it was my little heart desired.
I stopped on the front mat that said “I hope you brought wine” and smiled. I’d shared this three-bedroom townhome with my cousin and best friend, Grace, for almost five years before I went on my solo travels. We’d kept in touch on an almost weekly basis while I was gone but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t missed her terribly.