Chapter 14

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After breakfast, Ryan and I go out to find me a short-term furnished apartment. He likes the sixth one we see. I preferred the third, but he thought we should keep looking since it wasn't in the best neighborhood. True, but it was bright and airy and colorful and I felt comfortable in it. The sixth one is okay too, although I don't like it as much because it's all neutral colors and the windows are smaller, but since he really likes it and it's closer to Hannah's place I don't put up a fight.

Once the papers are signed, we go to Jake's to pick up my stuff. While I didn't think Jake should have to leave his place, I'm glad he did. It would be too weird to have him there. I still like him and I don't want the two of them together if I can help it.

We leave everything in my new apartment, and Ryan promises to bring me some of my clothes from Ottawa when he comes back next weekend, then we head onto the street and he says, "I'll show you where MMC is in Toronto. That might help."

"MMC?"

He smiles. "Sorry. Merrill Media Consultants. Your company."

My company. I'm still having trouble getting my head around that. "Tell me about it, okay?"

He does, as we take the subway then walk for a few blocks along Queen Street. Apparently I maintain a large team of consultants in Ottawa and smaller groups in Montreal and Vancouver and Toronto. We specialize in media presence for celebrities, singers and movie stars and the like, helping them decide what they should say and how they should say it, and especially guiding them when they're involved in some sort of scandal.

"I must have some great gossip," I say when he's finished, then wince. "I mean, at the time. When I remembered. You know."

He pats my shoulder. "I do know. And you did but you tended to keep it to yourself. You only occasionally told me stories, when they were too good not to share, but you definitely didn't tell anyone else. You keep secrets really well."

He looks sad. Of course he does. His wife planned how to escape from him and he had no idea she was going to go.

"Sorry," I say awkwardly.

He turns to look at me. "Why?"

"For keeping too many secrets."

He studies me for a long moment, then shakes his head, giving me a forced smile. "Didn't we talk about you not needing to apologize to me?"

I scratch my head and try to look clueless. "I don't remember. Did we?"

He looks alarmed for an instant then gets it and rolls his eyes. "Very funny. But seriously. No more. Anyhow, here's your building. Want to go in?"

I shake my head at once, looking up at what was clearly once a lovely old house before it became office space. "I'd feel weird. And what if someone recognized me?"

He nods. "True. Well, if someone comes out I'll say we have a meeting and we'll take off, so don't worry about it. Just take all the time you want from out here, okay?"

I run my eyes over the building, top to bottom and side to side. It's gorgeous, and I'm glad my other self picked it, but I know nothing about it. There's not even a prickle of recognition inside me.

At last, I shake my head. "Nothing."

He pats my shoulder. "No worries. You didn't spend much time here so I guess it's not a surprise this didn't work. Something will, though."

I hope he's right.

"Ready for lunch?"

I am, so he leads me toward a restaurant he knows a few blocks away.

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