Page 184 of Empire State Enemies

The birds are going all out, serenading us as the sun plays peek-a-boo through the pines, casting a glow over the trail.

Grace is visiting for the weekend, joining my Saturday morning ritual—hitting the Patapsco Valley State Park with the local hiking group my boss Aaron recommended.

I take a lungful of that spring zing—the kind that’s petal-fresh and smog-free, making you thrilled to be alive. It’s so nice to swap out cab honks and subway rumbles for actual, real-life bird tweets. In New York, even the pigeons have that stressed city-hustle energy, like they’re late for a meeting with the mayor or something.

The air has that hint of Maryland humidity, but I’m all-in for the kind of sweat that only Mother Nature can induce, rather than the insomnia-induced sweat sessions you get at three a.m., stressing over stuff or people.

It’s nice to have that deep-down happy feeling of justbeing.

Two months have flown by since I made the big move to Ellicott City. On paper at least, the skyscraper-sized problems from my New York days have shrunk down to more manageable, suburban-sized issues.

Mom’s loving her new place, a care home that doesn’t require a Wall Street salary. She’s made more friends than me, ironically. And the manager is far less uptight than Brenda.

And I’ve made some new pals at work and at the hiking club—I’m going for quality over quantity.

For the first time in forever, I’m actually saving money and chipping away at debt. And sometimes, just to feel like I’m living on the edge, I go out for avocado toast for breakfast.

Grace is back in New York, making her way in the world. She’s living in a cramped apartment with roommates but she’s enjoying it. She’s maturing, thriving at her job, and making a life for herself. I’m proud of her.

The move wasn’t without its growing pains. Getting used to life without her around took some time. Sunday mornings were especially tough. But you know what? Now I’m totally fine flying solo. I’m comfortable and happy in my own company, even if I sometimes talk to my houseplants.

And my PR role for Ascend proves more fulfilling than cleaning up after naughty celebs. I’m constantly finding myself smiling at my screen, totally unprovoked—that’s new.

The health companies and topics we deal with are a breath of fresh air compared to dealing with divas claiming they can communicate with the spirit world mid-flight.

I actually look forward to work—sometimes I have to remind myself to log off at night. We’ve got deadlines and some can be brutal, but at least they’re not dictated by the whims of someone who thinks mood swings are a valid management strategy. Aaron even threw me a little welcome BBQ, which was sweet.

I started a psych class at the community college, dipping my toe into figuring out this next chapter. I’m only twenty-six. No need to have it all mapped out yet. People reinvent themselves at forty or fifty all the time. Just look at Vera Wang. She was a figure skater before she became a fashion designer.

The neighborhood’s got a suburban vibe but still keeps me connected to city life. I bought a cheap car since getting around here without one is a drag. Walking and public transport aren’t the area’s strong suits, sadly. Coming from New York where everything was a subway away, it’s an adjustment.

Grace shifts her fanny pack filled with Snickers into a comfier spot.“So peaceful outhere,” she sighs happily, swigging her water.

“Sure is,” I chime back with a grin.

The wordpeacefulhangs sweetly between us as we meander on. Fits my life now—calm, smooth, predictable. No more dramatic pendulum swings, just a gentle coast.

Which is exactly what I craved when I hopped into Deano’s car, driven by the kind of desperation that only comes from needing cash by any means necessary.

My soul feels like it’s healing. And my heart has a protective bubble wrap layer of numbness because there’s nothing or no one getting through to poke at the tender bits anymore.

Memories that dare pop up are quickly shoved back down into their mental box, stamped with a big red DANGER—DO NOT OPEN. They’re long gone, hundreds of miles away in the city that never sleeps.

But sometimes the universe tests my newfound tranquility, throwing up images of him wearing that tux and that heart-stopping grin at some gala or function. And when that happens, the floodgates open. Emotions and memories spill in, before I wrestle them back in the box.

And sure, there are moments when I catch myself wondering about him. If his hearing’s gotten worse and how he’s coping. If he’s in a meaningful relationship with the professor lady. But that’s none of my business.

“Gorgeous out today, right?” Tom flashes me a grin. The sun’s beaming down like a spotlight on his biceps, making them shimmer as he takes a swig from his water bottle.

Tom, the buff schoolteacher, is the only blip on my romantic radar these days.

Since joining the hiking group, I’ve gotten to know him a bit better. From what I can tell he’s sweet, brainy, and refreshingly straightforward. Though, for all I know, he could be a Norman Bates in disguise, but so far, so good.

“It’s great,” I say. “I haven’t tried this trail before. I love that we switch it up. I’d never tackle all these routes on my own.”

“Yeah, this way you don’t have to worry about the planning. Just kick back and enjoy the hike,” he agrees. “No brainpower necessary.”

“I bet you hardly find a moment to yourself at work with twenty kids all vying for your attention,” I remark.