There's No One Like You

Chapter 1

Harrison

Reviewing the updated inventory of our recent acquisitions, I immediately notice that a few are missing, including Giovanni Battista Torriglia’s painting, and the 18th-century Venetian vase. Despite being acquired three weeks ago, the items have not been included in the inventory, which puzzles me. Pressing the intercom, I call my assistant, Hanna, to check why.

“Hanna, can you check with James where the Venetian vase and Torriglia’s painting are? It’s not in the inventory list you’ve given me.”

“I’ll ask James. Also, Sebastian is in line three and wants to talk to you.”

“Okay, put him on. Thanks, Hanna.”

Pressing the button, I immediately hear Sebastian’s voice on the other end of the line.

“Hey, how’s my favorite cousin?”

“Good. What’s up?” I ask as I continue reviewing the files before me.

“Same old, same old. But enough about me. What about you? How was last night?”

“It was okay.”

“And your date? How was she?” Sebastian asks, forgoing subtlety.

“She was nice.”

A few seconds pass as if Sebastian is waiting for me to say something more. When it’s clear to him I’m not volunteering any other information, he speaks again.

“That’s it? ‘She was nice’? Come on. There must be more than that.”

“What do you want me to say?” I ask, a little distracted.

“That she’s pretty. That she’s a great conversationalist. That she’s great in bed?” he asks with a teasing lilt.

“I didn’t sleep with her if that’s what you’re asking.”

I hear Sebastian sigh. Despite being unable to see him personally, I can picture his frustrated face. Somehow, I feel a little guilty that I can't tell him something more exciting.

“Please, at least. tell me you had fun.”

“I did. She’s just not my type.”

Sebastian sighs again before muttering, “Fine. What can I do if my cousin wants to remain a bachelor?”

“I will not remain a bachelor, Sebastian. I’m touched by your concern, but I’m fine.”

“Yeah, yeah. Well, I gotta go. Duty calls. I’ll see you later.”

Sebastian hangs up, and I pause for a second, unable to resume my work. My mind wanders to the date I had last night.

I wasn’t lying when I said Becca's nice or that I had fun. But the niggling feeling that something was wrong persisted all night, so I didn't ask her out for a second date.

As pretty as Becca is, I can’t help but notice how her eyes are the wrong shade of green. Or how her smile is different. Or how her hands feel unfamiliar and way too small.

My thoughts shift to Kathy and how beautiful she was. With emerald green eyes and auburn locks, she looked like a princess from a fairytale. She was also smart, adventurous, if a bit reckless, and unbelievably kind.

Becca is nice, but she’s not Kathy.

My eyes widen as I realize I’m comparing another woman to Kathy again. Just like I’d done the entire time last night. 

Now distracted, I let out a sigh as I amble toward the windows overlooking the George Washington Bridge. 

I know I should move on. Everyone around me has been saying the same thing for the last five years. And I know, deep down, that they’re right.

Even Kathy would think the same.

My Kathy wouldn’t want me to waste my life like this. She’d want me to go out there and live the best life possible. Go on adventures, meet people, and find new love.

But, no matter how much I want to do just that, it isn’t easy. As much as I want to move on, I can’t help but be cautious. Life is way too unpredictable.

Unpredictable enough to take Kathy from me in an instant.

So if I’m going to do this again, moving on and falling in love, I want it to be with someone truly worth it. Dating and sleeping around wouldn’t do that for me.

As I continue to stare at the busy road downstairs, Hanna knocks on my door, interrupting my thoughts. She enters with a few files and places them on my desk.

“I hope I wasn’t interrupting. I talked to James about the missing pieces, and he said this is the latest inventory. Apparently, an intern made a mistake and gave you the old one.”

I nod and walk toward my desk to check the new file.

“Also, this came in a while ago.” Hanna hands me a slip of paper.

“What is it?” I ask as I read the address written on the note. “Bookbinders Books, 3252 Alfred Drive, Brooklyn, New York?”

“Remember that rare Debussy book you were looking for?”

“The Art of Longing?”

“Yes. I received a call a while ago that there’s a chance you can find it there.”

After Kathy died, reading became my solace. I did it as a distraction from the pain brought about by her passing. Before long, I found myself collecting books as a way of dealing with my grief.

It was through this venture that I came across the author, Margaret Debussy. With themes of love and loss, her work resonated with me. In the end, I became a huge fan, and I made it my mission to collect all her pieces.

But, unfortunately, given how Debussy was not a particularly well-known author, I thought I’d never find this particular work.

Until today, that is.

“Thank you, Hanna.”

“No problem.”

Rubbing my thumb on the slip of paper, I read the address again. My brows furrow at how familiar the shop sounds. But, no matter how much I wrack my brain, I can’t pinpoint why.

“Should I clear out the rest of your afternoon?” Hanna asks.

Looking at the note again, I wonder if I can really find Debussy’s book at this address.

Well, I wouldn’t lose anything by checking the place out.

“Yeah,” I reply. “I’m heading out.”

Mind made up, I set out for Brooklyn.