It might be wishful thinking, but she sounds disappointed that I don’t want to go. But looking at the skyline in the middle of the night feels like a very romantic thing to do, and that’s not what we’re doing here. I wish the fuck we were, but we aren’t. A romantic night with me is the last thing she needs after the day she had. It would mess her head completely up.
“Do you have somewhere you can stay tonight?” I ask.
“I can go to my mom’s. She lives uptown.”
“I’ll call for a car.”
“That’s sweet, Texas boy, but I’ll get there way faster if I take the train. All New Yorkers take the subway. Thought you’d have figured that out by now.”
Wealthy New Yorkers don’t.
“I just haven’t gotten the hang of traveling in that metal centipede. It freaks me out. I rather walk or take an Uber. I prefer to stay above ground. I’ll grab you a car. It’s no problem.”
“Please, I don’t want to bother–”
“Adrienne,” I interrupt her sentence. “There’s no way in hell I’m letting you get on a subway halfway drunk in the middle of the night in New York City. We may not know each other well, but we’ve shared enough tonight to agree that we’re not complete strangers. This is one human being looking out for another after the shit day she just had. Accept my awesomeness.”
Then she does something that takes me completely off guard. She wraps her arms around my waist and stares up at me while resting her chin in the center of my chest.
“I accept, but there’s just one thing I need from you before we go.”
My chest feels like a wind tunnel. A vortex of energy and emotions are swarming around inside, and I take several labored breaths before I can answer her coherently.
“What is it?”
She’s so fucking beautiful.
I am dying to kiss her.
“Your name since you obviously know mine now.”
Her fiancé almost destroyed her with a brutal deception, but she bravely bared her soul in front of me tonight, so the least that I owe her is one truth. She has no idea who I am and since I have an opportunity to enjoy the anonymity for a few more moments by giving her a name that will mean nothing to her than I will.
I want to give it to her.
I lift the brim of my hat so that she can see the sincerity in my eyes.
“It’s Jason.”
Then I kiss her once cautiously on the lips and pray that she recalls it in the morning.
It will be the only thing she may remember me by.
Fourteen
ADRIENNE
It’s beenseven long days since my breakup with Troy, and I need to readily admit to myself that I’m turning into a crazy person.
You know the type.
When I’m not sleepwalking through work, I spend my time stalking his social media accounts for hours at a time. And I’ve rehearsed the explanation speech I’m going to give our friends and family about why we aren’t getting married in my head about a thousand times. And I’ve avoided calling my cousin Cecily until I have revised said speech and deliver it without sounding like a wounded animal. And I don’t cry, but what’s even worse is that I am stuffing all of my feelings down deep with crap that I eat. In fact, this week I’ve scarfed down three pints of pistachio ice cream, two bottles of red wine and several high calorie dinners via a delivery service.
Tonight I will change things up and cook for myself, then watch a movie. It’s literally a Netflix and chill night and not the kind that ends up with two people rolling in the sheets. I’m eating an artery clogging rib-eye steak, cooked medium, with roasted Brussels sprouts (sprinkled with Parmesan cheese) and a glass of Pinot Noir as I scroll through Troy’s profile page like a nut.
Relationship Status: It’s Complicated
What the hell does that mean?
