Falling Over You

  Falling Over You

  Isadora Brown

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek!

  Did You Like Falling Over You?

  Acknowledgments

  Newsletter Information

  1

  How long had he been here now?

  He pursed his thin but defined lips together and cocked his head to the side slightly as he walked through the busy streets of Manhattan, ignoring the rushing New Yorkers and the naïve tourists. They were so common to him now, so normal, that he wasn't as distracted by them as he had been. Nor was he so awed by the skyscrapers, the shopping districts, that he would pause and stand in the middle of the sidewalk, simply staring at his surroundings. New York was definitely wondrous, but since he’d lived here for nearly twenty years, he was used to it. Not that he didn't appreciate it, of course, but he appreciated different things now than he had when he first moved here. Like the way the sun would hit the Hudson as it raised into the sky, and the way its rays reflected in windows. He appreciated Central Park, but even more than that, the little and more rare greenery that made up tiny parts of the strip of land that was known for being nearly all city. Now, he had time to enjoy everything quietly. With so much time on his hands, his thoughts began to wander unexplored territory.

  Michael Langdon had been dead for seven years now, but his presence had remained here on Earth and he couldn't, for the life of him, fathom a reason as to why that was. He was free to go wherever he liked, and if anyone else had been in his position, they most probably would have traveled the world, seen things that humans—the living—weren't allowed to see. But Mike was perfectly fine in New York, in his house that he hadn't seen for the last few months.... Okay, so he had visited Alaska, then the Caribbean, and then Disneyland. But now he was back and he planned to be there for a while.

  "How did I die anyway?" he asked himself in a naturally soft tenor that had a very slight rasp to it. He didn't seem to mind that he was talking to himself without the guise of cell phone. People couldn't hear him, people couldn't see him, and people couldn't feel him. In fact, if they ever ran into Mike, they would simply go through him.

  His mind began to put the pictures of his death back together. Mike couldn't remember the exact moment he had died, but he remembered the bright lights of the taxi cab that hailed a sharp right without even checking to see if there were any pedestrians...hadn't even slowed down as he rounded the corner. Mike didn't have a chance. He remembered feeling dazed for a moment before picking himself up and making sure he could walk before he finally realized that though he was capable of standing, his body didn't seem to be. He took it rather hard when he found out he was dead. There were so many things that he still wanted to do.

  * * *

  Yet, he managed to accomplish them as a ghost, an entity, or whatever he chose to call himself at any given time. In fact, Mike did more than anyone could have ever expected he would do. He went to his funeral, went to popular New York attractions at one o'clock in the morning when people were sleeping and places were closed, and he just got back from a trip where he visited some of the places he always wanted to go to.

  The problem was that his life, death, whatever it was called, was now infinitely lonelier than it had ever been. Mike was witty, sometimes to the point of sarcasm, when he was alive. He didn't go out of his way to make friends, but the friends he did have were incredibly important to him. He had dated a total of four women: one from high school, one from college, and two since moving to New York. He hadn't chosen to settle down because he thought he would have plenty of time to start a family. And the splits hadn't exactly ended well. Now he was permanently thirty-eight with all the time in the world and no one to share it with.

  Currently, Mike was standing in the middle of a sidewalk, staring up at a skyscraper. The corners of his lips twitched up as he recalled jumping off of one of these for the first time. The feeling was exhilarating and freeing, and it didn't hurt that hitting the pavement was painless.

  Suddenly, and without warning, somebody bumped into him. For a moment, Mike was completely flustered because he had never felt someone touch him since his death. Hell, he couldn't touch anything, really, except the clothes he wore, anything that had to do with himself. And yet….

  "God, why is someone standing in the middle of the damn sidewalk?" a voice murmured underneath her breath as she stepped around him and hurried down the sidewalk.

  It had been a woman, and not only had she felt him, she had seen him. This was...inexplicable. Now, for one more test….

  "Sorry!" he called, and his nearly black eyes watched the back of her head intently.

  For a moment, it appeared as though nothing was going to happen. However, she raised her hand and brushed his apology off as though she didn't care—and she probably didn't—before slipping it back into her trench coat pocket. She hadn't even turned around, but she had heard him.

  It was as though he was a person again. Almost as if Michael Langdon was suddenly alive. The feeling was liberating, and he knew that he couldn't let it slip away. He had to find her again. Normally, he might have considered the notion of finding one person he didn't even get a good look at impossible, but he had encountered a lot of impossibilities that were somehow possible now.

  Mike smiled at her retreating figure, though she had already disappeared within the masses that filled the sidewalk, and continued heading in the other direction.

  Lara Darling was still getting used to the city. It was hard for her to catch up to New York's constant bustling, especially when she was so used to the calm that made up southern California. Talk about going from one extreme to another. She had grown in a quiet little suburb in Orange County, so being in this particular city, living here instead of merely visiting, was quite intimidating. And don't even get her started on the people.

  She knew not all New Yorkers were in a rush to get somewhere at the same time, but that seemed to be the case most of the time, and every time she would stop in the middle of the sidewalk, people would run into her, and said people had no problem throwing insults in her direction before returning to their important conversations on their cellphones.

  Everything here had a "hip" vibe to it too. That was difficult to get used to, because if Lara was one thing, it definitely wasn't trendy. The only brand name piece of clothing she owned were an old pair of Nike shoes, and some of the women she interacted with knew that. Like her fiancé's mother. God, Lara did not like that woman. No matter what she did, Lara could not make any sort of connection with her. Even though she moved from a place she adored out to a city that she wasn't entirely fond of.

  She shook her head. "Positive thoughts, Lara," she murmured to herself as she rounded a corner. "Don't let that witch ruin your interview."

  The one good thing she had found in New York was that what she wanted to do with her life was easily accessible here compared to other cities in other states. Arguably, Los Angeles had a few things relating to Lara's chosen pr
ofession, but New York was known for it. Lara wanted to be an editor, and what better place to be an editor than in New York City?

  As she collected her thoughts and tried to remain focused, she bumped into someone literally standing in the middle of the sidewalk, looking up at the skyscraper. Okay, just because she might have done that when she first arrived at the city didn't mean that it was appropriate to do on an obviously busy street. Didn't he know that something like this was going to occur on such a busy sidewalk?

  Lara shook her head, muttering something under her breath and continued on. She hadn't really caught sight of the guy, but he was tall, probably six foot two, and even though he appeared to be somewhere in his thirties, he had a youthful boyish face, dark hair, and dark eyes. The guy was definitely attractive, but not very bright it would seem. Oh well. Wasn't that how it always was?

  Suddenly, Lara heard someone apologize over the crowd of people. Though she didn't turn to see who it was, she had a feeling it was that mystery man and raised her hand in some kind of acknowledgment. She needed to get her act together if she wanted to ace this interview, and that meant no distractions.

  2

  When Lara got to the proper building, she went in, immediately reveling in the heated building. Though it was still early autumn, this particular September seemed to be incredibly bitter and cold when compared to the previous week. She didn't like wearing gloves all that much, though she knew from experience that upon winter's arrival, she would probably have to invest in a few pairs of them.

  The first thing Lara did was check in at the desk. "Yes, hi," she said, offering what she hoped was a friendly smile. "My name is Lara Darling. I'm here for an interview at nine thirty."

  The sweet receptionist, probably no more than nineteen, scanned a list on her computer screen for a few moments before finding Lara's name. She smiled and nodded, acknowledging that Lara did have a meeting, and proceeded to make her an identification badge handed out to visitors.

  "Okay," she said, her voice tainted with an obvious English accent. "What you're going to do is go through security before heading over to those elevators there." She reached out her arm and pointed across the hallway, past security, to a collective group of elevators. "Go up to the sixteenth floor and check in with the receptionist, Stacy, and she can answer any questions you have."

  "Thank you," Lara murmured, clipping the visitor's badge to her breast pocket and headed over to security. Luckily for Lara, going through security here was much easier than going through security at an airport, and within moments, she was through the metal detector and on her way to the elevators.

  At that moment, she decided to make a detour and headed to the nearest restroom to check on her appearance. She knew how important first impressions were, and she didn't want to walk up there with chapped lips and messy hair. After a quick touch-up, Lara slipped off her trench coat to reveal a nice pair of slacks, a nice shirt, and a matching blazer. She was also wearing black knee-high boots underneath her pant legs that ensured her legs were nice and warm.

  "You can do this," she whispered to herself in the mirror. "You can do this. Just breathe."

  When she finished with her pep talk, she walked out and into the elevators, trying to ignore the pounding in her heart. After meeting up with Stacy, she took a seat next to three other people who, Lara figured, were interviewing for the same job position. Shit. Well, it wasn't like they were going to only interview her. But sitting with her competition caused her to get nervous, even more so than she already was.

  It was another fifteen minutes before Lara's name was called, and by that time her stomach was jumping in every direction. However, she was glad it was finally her turn. In all honesty, she wanted to get this whole thing over with as quickly and as smoothly as possible.

  The woman who was going to interview her was probably in her early fifties. Her straight, jet-black hair was graying and pulled into a professional bun. She was wearing a black suit that Lara probably couldn't afford even after three months of work, but her demeanor was warm and she was smiling. Lara felt herself slowly start to relax as the woman led her back into a corner office with a beautiful view of New York's famous skyline.

  "Good morning," she greeted with a smile. "My name is Patricia Boones."

  "Oh my gosh," Lara murmured, a surprised smile on her face. "You're one of the founders of this place."

  Patricia nodded. "My husband, Daniel Brennan, is my co-founder," she explained with ease, as though she got this kind of response from prospective employees all the time. "Please, have a seat."

  Lara did as she was told. She couldn't believe one of the founders was interviewing her. Patricia seemed to have read her mind. "I know it seems odd, seeing me here instead of my assistant or some other person," she said, taking a seat as well and resting her arms on her desk. "But I want you to know that I take a keen interest in everything that goes on here, including interviewing and personally hiring new people. It is important to me to get to know every individual as best as I possibly can."

  "It's an honor, ma'am," Lara said, placing her hands in her lap and checking to make sure her posture was practically perfect.

  "Thank you," Patricia said, glancing down at a sheet of paper in her hand. It was Lara's résumé. "Now, it says here that you've wanted to be an editor since you were in the fourth grade because you were in charge of editing your peers' essays before they handed them in to your teacher...."

  Except Lara wasn't listening. She was staring out Patricia's window that practically made up the entire back wall. A familiar face had caught her eye, the very same face she had run into this morning. Was he...was he some kind of window washer or something like that? Lara never quite understood those jobs, only because she was afraid of heights and couldn't imagine being thirty stories up just to wash someone's windows. They couldn't pay her enough.

  But he didn't have any washing equipment with him. In fact, if she was being honest, he was just... there, sitting on nothing. How was he...? Lara tilted her head to get a better look at what she was currently viewing because it didn't appear as though the man was sitting on anything, but he was too far away to be standing on the very slight balcony skyscrapers offered. She glanced around, hoping to catch sight of some rope, wire, anything really, to show her that despite the illusion, he was still there, hanging from nothing.

  But such a feat wasn't possible.

  "Miss Darling?" Patricia asked, perking her brow slightly. Though Patricia Boones was very polite and warm, she still struggled with the concept of patience.

  Upon hearing her voice, Lara's eyes snapped back into Patricia's and she forced what she hoped would come across as an intent smile. "Yes?" she asked and then realized Patricia Boones had asked her a question. "Right, I wanted to be an editor since I was in fourth grade."

  Patricia smiled, though it had lost some of its original sweetness. "You seem distracted, dear," she stated bluntly, though her words were coated in niceties.

  "Oh," Lara murmured, smiling. "Right, well I just moved here a couple of weeks ago so I'm still getting used to the city."

  This time, Patricia's smile was noticeably forced and she placed Lara's résumé on the desk. "Of course, dear," she said. "Completely understandable. However, here at Boones & Brennan, we can't have our employees becoming distracted by New York's skyline. How am I supposed to depend on you when your head is up in the clouds?" She sighed through her nose before shaking her head. "I'm sorry, but Boones & Brennan isn't the place for you. Quite disappointing though. You had a remarkable résumé."

  Lara couldn't believe Patricia Boones was already kicking her out, despite the fact that she had actually answered the first question. Normally, she would have at least attempted to get more time with the woman or at least scheduled some sort of interview later on, but Lara didn't want to make herself look like more of an ass. So she collected her things, thanked the woman for her time, and walked out of the building with her lips pressed tightly together and her hand
s balled into fists.

  However, her disappointment soon turned to anger when she saw the very man who had cost her the job interview standing just outside the building.

  "You have a lot of nerve!" she exclaimed, causing some of the passersby to look at her oddly. "Do you realize what you just did? You cost me a very important job interview, you know that?" She tilted her head up, hoping to see the device he had used to get to the sixteenth floor. "How did you get down here so quickly, and where is your equipment?"

  "I'm dead," the man said simply, his hands in his black overcoat's pockets. “Well, my name is Mike. But I’m dead.”

  "What?" Lara asked, her tone flat.

  "I don't have any equipment because I'm dead," he explained, his tone nonchalant and even slightly dismissive. "I could do it again, if you like."

  "What?" she asked again before shaking her head. "That's your excuse? Well then, I don't believe you."

  Instead of being affronted, his lips curled up and for a moment, his dark eyes twinkled. "Watch," he said before stepping off the sidewalk and heading into the street the same moment a car was speeding down the road.

  Lara opened her mouth to call out, but then with disbelief and slight fascination, she watched as the car went through him. Literally through him. He came back and threw her a cocky smile, but before he could say anything, Lara reached out to touch him. And did.

  "But I can...." She let her voice trail off before locking eyes with him and then narrowing hers. "I'm not even going to attempt to reason that. Yes, your trick was nice, your illusion was very believable, but you can't be a ghost. There are no such things as ghosts." With that, she spun on her heel and proceeded to take the long journey home.