Mr Destiny (30 page)

Alex had even taken the day off—completely unheard of for her. Her usual nerves of steel had begun to crumble over John's
insistence that he go ahead and sign papers with the agency, now that a proper surrogate had been found.

Eve was a nervous wreck. But she was also fully determined not to let her crowd phobia keep her from meeting her Knight in
Cyber Armor at the River-to-River Folk Music Festival at South Street Seaport.

As for Kate?

It was also the day of Harold's big surprise afternoon tea at the Waldorf. As eager as Kate was to get the dreaded experience
behind her, facing Margaret and knowing she was going to disappoint Harold's mother was not something she was looking forward
to doing.

At least Grace already expected what was coming.

Her grandmother had only asked Kate about the bridal suit once more. When Kate told her she'd take care of the bridal suit
herself, Grace had dropped the subject.

The day of reckoning had arrived.

For her, for Alex, and for Eve.

It had been Alex's idea to hold an emergency breakfast meeting so they could all gather strength from each other. She'd arrived
at the apartment bearing what she called “brain food”—sinful chocolate éclairs and rich Starbucks coffee. The three of them
were sitting around Kate's kitchen table now, stimulating their systems with total caffeine overload.

Kate licked the chocolate from her fingers, looked at Alex, and said, “You really are going to let a surrogate have John's
child?”

“Yes,” Alex said without hesitation. “Unless time stands still and the entire city of New York grinds to a screeching halt,
I'm going to stand by silently when John signs the papers with the surrogate agency this afternoon. I love John too much to
lose him. And I want my promotion too much to take time off to have a baby just because he can't wait a few more years.”

“Then I'll support you any way I can,” Kate said. “As long as it goes on record that I do
not
agree with your decision, and never have.”

“Me, too,” Eve spoke up.

“Thank you both,” Alex said, looking from one to the other. “For your support. And for realizing this is my decision to
make, whether the two of you agree with it or not.”

“Which brings us to my decision,” Kate said, “which I also hope you, Alex, will respect as much as I respect your decision.
I've decided
not
to pursue a relationship with Tony.”

“Now, dammit, Kate,” Alex began, but Kate held her hand up.

“He's had five whole days to call me since I left the cabin. Not once has he dialed my number. Just like he had the opportunity
to say something before I walked out, and he had the opportunity to stop me from leaving before I drove away. He didn't do
any of those things. Only a fool wouldn't be able to see that he's just not interested.”

“Or, that he's just giving you the space you asked for,” Alex said, “so you can finalize things with Harold.”

“You don't have to agree with my decision, Alex,” Kate said, “just like I don't have to agree with yours. But as far as I'm
concerned the Tony subject is closed. Forever.”

Kate dismissed Alex and looked over at Eve. “How about you, sweetie? Are you sure you're going to be okay today?”

Eve nodded.

“You'll be fine,” Alex assured her. “Just remember the trick I taught you.”

“It's impossible to think about two things at once,” Eve recited on cue.

Alex nodded. “Take a taxi to South Street Seaport. Hop out of the taxi when you arrive at the restaurant where you're going
to meet him. Grab George by the hand and don't let go. Then, focus on him, just him, and nothing but him. Got it?”

Eve nodded.

But she took a deep breath, and said, “Only I've decided not to take a taxi. I'm going to be brave and ride the subway instead.”

Alex looked at Kate.

Kate looked at Alex.

“You might want to rethink that, Eve,” Alex began, but Eve shook her head, sending her springy auburn curls flying.

“No,” Eve said. “If I take a taxi I have a greater chance of starting to panic the second I get there. If I take the subway,
I'll be forced to pull myself together before I get to the restaurant.”

“Well, listen to you, Eve,” Alex said, smiling. “I have to say I'm extremely impressed that you've thought this out all by
yourself.”

Eve smiled back, obviously pleased with Alex's praise.

“Still,” Alex said, as only Alex would, “it might not hurt to be honest with the guy when you do get there. Tell George the
truth. Tell him you've had some social anxiety problems lately, and…”

“No,” Eve said again, and with just as much authority. “I think George really could be the one, Alex. I'm not going to lay
a ton of baggage at his feet before he even has the opportunity to get to know me.”

“I agree with you, Eve,” Kate said, before Alex had a chance to keep chipping away at Eve's confidence.

She sent Alex a stern look.

Alex took the hint.

She got up from the kitchen table to leave.

But she looked at Kate in a funny way for a second.

“What?” Kate asked.

“Have you seen my Kate Spade bag?” Alex wanted to know. “The zebra one? I know it's silly, but I've always thought of it as
my good luck charm. I can't find it, and I want to carry it today.”

“Try the hall closet,” Kate said. “Wasn't that where you were keeping most of your things?”

“Good idea,” Alex said.

She hugged them both and hurried off.

When she left the kitchen, Eve leaned over to Kate and whispered, “But isn't it bad luck to be superstitious?”

“Eve,” Kate said patiently, “think that question over very slowly.”

“Oh,” Eve said after a few seconds.

“Found it,” Alex yelled from the hallway.

When the door slammed, Kate let out a deep sigh.

August 14.

She wasn't sure why, but something told Kate it would be a day none of them would soon forget.

Tony had actually been relieved when he received his work schedule when he returned from vacation on Monday, and saw he would
be working second shift on Thursday. Being confined to Central Park on duty meant he couldn't pull any last-minute dumb-ass
stunts and show up at the Waldorf to kick Harold's ass.

At least verbally.

Whether Kate approved or not.

He'd almost called her more times than he could count over the last five days, but he'd kept himself from making that mistake.
Besides, calling before her big breakup date with Harold would only lead them into another argument about the same damn thing.

He still believed she should have let him go with her.

Not to embarrass Kate.

Not to make her grandmother hate him.

Not because he was afraid Kate would change her mind.

She should have let him go with her because, to him, denying him that privilege was the same thing as saying
I'm not exactly sure where you fit into my life yet.

That's why he'd decided not to follow his father's advice. He wasn't going to call Kate later tonight. He wasn't going to
call Kate at all. If he ever talked to Kate Anderson again, it would be because she
had
figured out where he
did
fit into her life and had come looking for
him.

Verdict in.

Case closed.

Tony tossed his trash bag into the can at the side of his apartment building and slammed the lid soundly to make sure it was
in place. When he turned back around, he found Joey standing behind him.

Joey shoved the basketball at him.

Tony caught it with ease.

“Wanna play a little one-on-one?”

Hell, why not?

It was still early.

He didn't report for duty until three that afternoon.

Which happens to be the exact time Kate will be sitting down to tea at the Waldorf with asshole Harold.

Tony pushed that thorn-in-his-side thought aside.

“Sure, I'm up for some one-on-one,” Tony said. “If you're up for getting your scrawny little butt kicked this early in
the morning.”

Joey grinned. “You're not going to kick my scrawny little butt today, old man. I've been practicing.”

“Bring it,” Tony said.

They headed for the new basketball court he'd had put in at the back of the building—the one that had been used practically
nonstop by every kid in the neighborhood almost before the concrete had time to set up.

“Ready?” Joey asked when they reached the court.

Tony nodded. “I'll even let you go first.”

Joey did a few fancy dribbles, keeping his distance.

He charged forward for the layup.

They both jumped at the same time.

Tony missed the block.

Joey made the basket.

“I'm bad. Oh, yeah. I'm bad,” Joey chanted, strutting around the court, flapping his arms and doing a poor imitation of a
chicken.

“Lucky shot,” Tony told him.

Joey passed him the ball.

Tony dribbled back to midcourt.

Just before the ball left his hands, Joey said, “I heard you screwed things up with the blonde.”

Tony missed the shot.

“Thanks,” he said, glaring in Joey's direction. “And you heard wrong. I didn't screw things up.
She
did.”

Joey shrugged, then went to retrieve the ball.

He did more of his fancy dribbling, first around one leg, then around the other. “So? The blonde made a mistake. So what?
Mistakes are only lessons in life. Right?”

“Are we going to play ball?” Tony barked. “Or are you more interested in quoting Dr. Phil this morning?”

“I wasn't quoting Dr. Phil,” Joey said with a grin. “I was quoting you.”

Joey broke for the goal before Tony could block him.

He grinned at Tony when the ball went through the net.

“See? I told you I've been practicing.”

If Tony hadn't been in such a foul mood, the proud look on the kid's face would have made him smile. Tony did smile—but only
when Joey wasn't looking.

“You've been practicing, all right,” Tony said. “Practicing on how to keep your opponent's mind off the game so you can cheat
and win.”

“Back to the blonde,” Joey said, spinning the ball around on one finger—proving he'd been practicing more than just his dribbling
and his layups. “I was hoping I could get some tips from you about chicks. But man, maybe you should be getting some tips
from me. I can't believe you had her up at that cabin all alone and still screwed it up.”

He tossed Tony the ball.

Tony missed the shot.

“Man, your game is way off today,” Joey said, grinning at him.

More than my game's off, you little shit.

His whole life was off.

It had been since the day he met Kate.

But who am I kidding?

Hell yes, I'll call her tonight.

No.

He
would
take his father's advice.

He'd show up at her Manhattan apartment.

Just as soon as he got off duty.

He'd throw Kate over his shoulder—if he had to.

Then he'd take Kate home to Queens.

With him.

Where, dammit, she belongs.

“Thank you,” Harold said, and handed his beverage glass to the pretty flight attendant.

“Why, you're very welcome, Mr. Wellington,” she said with a great deal of surprise. “Thank
you.
“

Harold looked at her a little more closely.

He grimaced when he finally recognized her.

He'd given the young woman a hard time on his flight going to Chicago a few weeks ago, over something so insignificant he
couldn't even remember what it was. She'd walked to the front of the first-class cabin area, but she kept looking back at
him while she whispered something behind her hand to another pretty flight attendant.

Jesus.

What had he been thinking?

She was barely more than a kid, twenty-five tops. Blond and cute in that girl-next-door sort of way. Why hadn't he noticed
she was just a kid before? Just a young kid trying to do her job with as little hassle as possible.

Harold motioned for her.