“Well,” I began, “I did win you over… eventually.”
A look of panic flashed across Bec’s eyes. It disappeared just as quickly, and she cleared her throat. She seemed… flustered.
“See this one?” She asked… her voice now strained as she pointed to a picture on the wall. “My mom found this artist in Paris…”
I nodded as I listened to Bec explain the history of the art piece. She seemed to be avoiding something, but it would be hypocritical of me to pry.
After the art history lesson, we came to a stop at the end of the hall. "So, you were raised here?" I asked curiously.
Bec nodded, “Born and raised… so was Will.”
“It feels so…” my voice trailed off.
“Cold,” she answered for me.
I nodded.
Bec sighed, understanding the feeling. “It’s always felt like this. My mom loves it here and I don’t think she’ll ever leave, but it never felt like a home to me.”
I leaned against the wall, closer to Bec than I had intended. “So where washomewhen you were growing up?”
“Would you believe me if I said I’ve never had a home?” Bec’s voice was quiet and vulnerable. She looked up at me, her steel blue eyes peeking through her lashes.Then, like it never happened, she shook her head and looked away, asking, "Want to see my favorite part of the house?”
I nodded, and Bec smiled widely. She took me by the hand, leading me down the hall and through a closed door that revealed a rickety spiral staircase. We climbed up two stories, and Bec opened a door to the roof.
The view was gorgeous. While you couldn’t see the stars due to the light pollution, it provided a once-in-a-lifetime view of the Queensboro Bridge in the distance.
Bec guided me to the edge of the roof and leaned against the wall. Her hair blew softly in the cool night air, and her cheeks pinkened slightly due to the temperature. “I used to come up here when things were bad,” she explained. “When Will left and things got better, I would still sit out here, just dreaming of leaving this place behind.” She laughed softly to herself, “Yet here I still am.”
“Do you want to leave?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Not anymore. My life is in this city. The streets breathe life into me. I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else now.”
I nodded in understanding, “I’ve traveled all over the world, but this city will always be home.”
“Did you want to come back, or did you just come back for your family?” Bec asked as she glanced at me.
“A bit of both. I wanted to be back with them, but I needed to get away from…” my voice trailed off.
“Will told me what happened,” Bec blurted. “I didn’t want to keep it a secret from you that I knew, but we also don’t have to talk about it. I just wanted you to know… I know what happened.”
I sighed and rested my elbows on the edge of the wall. “I wish you didn’t.” My voice was quiet and subdued.
“Why?” She asked.
I ran my hands through my hair, “Because now you’ll think less of me. Now you’ll see the failure I truly am. You’ll fire me and find someone more competent to be your bodyguard, and I’ll lose my chance at redemption.”
Bec looked hurt by my admission. “Is that all I am to you? A chance to redeem yourself from a perceived failure?”
“No,” I answered quickly. “I look at thisjobas my chance. Notyou, you’re so much more… you’re you, you’reBec.” I groaned, “I’m doing a shit job at explaining this.”
“It makes sense,” Bec began. “The act of being my bodyguard is your redemption… but I’m your…”
“Friend, boss, frenemy? And I’m your thorn in your side you can’t get rid of.” I supplied for her with a smirk.
She shook her head. “I don’t know what you are to me. Not anymore.”
“Are we not friends?” I asked.
