“Exhausted.”
The cab slowsin front of an old brownstone, and Nalani leans forward to look through the window. “This is it,” she says, sounding uncertain.
I follow her gaze. The building looks like it’s been standing here since the turn of the century. The bricks are dark and weathered, and a single light flickers above the door. The steps are cracked, and the railing lists slightly to the side. I can tell from Nalani’s expression that this isn’t what she expected.
She turns to the driver. “Are you sure this is the right place?”
He taps his GPS. “213 Waverly Place, right here. Heart of Greenwich Village.”
Nalani doesn’t answer. She just exhales and reaches for her purse. I open my door and step into the cool air. It smells like wet leaves, old pavement, and city smoke. Savannah stirs in her seat.
“Trash day’s tomorrow,” the driver says as he pulls our bags from the trunk. His tone suggests he’s said that before.
Nalani gives him a polite smile. “Good to know.”
I take the larger suitcase from him before she can. “You’ve got a baby carrier, I’ve got this.”
She starts to protest. “You just had the longest day?—”
“Exactly why you’re not carrying anything,” I say, trying to sound lighter than I feel.
We climb the steps, and she fumbles for the lockbox the landlord mentioned. It’s dangling by one screw beside the door, half hanging open. My stomach knots a little as I watch her punch in the code. The lid falls open with almost no effort.
Nalani glances at me. “That’s not a great sign, is it?”
“Probably not. But at least you have keys.”
She unlocks the door and pushes it open. The smell hits first—cleaner, bleach, and something older underneath. The hallway is narrow, lined with faded wallpaper curling at the seams. A few of the overhead bulbs flicker as we walk inside.
“It has character,” I say, because it feels important to point out something good.
I mean, it’s genuinely not the worst place I have ever lived, far from it, but if I read her right,and I know I have, this is undoubtedly not what she’s accustomed to, not even close.
She laughs softly. “That’s one word for it.”
At the end of the hall is an elevator with a handwritten sign taped across it that reads“Out of Order.”
“Oh boy,” I say, drawing her attention away from the direction she’s looking at, the sign.
She sighs and looks at me. “Well, we won’t have to do cardio anytime soon.”
“We’ll go up, and I’ll set Savannah’s seat somewhere, and she’ll sleep so you can take in your new place.”
She glances around. “I’m not sure it’s safe to leave our stuff down here.”
“I haven’t heard a peep since we walked in. I’m guessing the tenants are all asleep.” I yawn.
“Let’s do this.” She nods to the stairs.
And so, we do.
I glance back and see that Nalani, all maybe five feet and a hundred pounds of her, managed to heft both of our bags up the stairs with her.
“You, okay?”
“I didn’t realize how out of shape I was.” She smiles as she looks at the door with a number 4 painted on it.
She turns the knob and opens it. “After you.”
