Her heart kicked, and she smiled back. “Maybe.”
She trailed her fingers over titles she didn’t recognize and editions that looked older than she was. “This place is magic,” she whispered.
He was already looking at her, not bothering to pretend otherwise. “I thought you’d like it.”
They drifted separately, together—fingers tracing spines, pages fluttering open like they were being read for the first time.
He picked up a worn hardcover and handed it to her without a word—just the silent weight ofI thought of you.
Somehow, that said more than any other man ever had.
He didn’t reach for her.
But she felt the pull anyway. Every aisle narrowed until there was only the two of them, and the way he looked at her—it made the world quieter.
She wasn’t sure what made her look up. The sound of his breath? The stillness in his shoulders?
Either way, when their eyes met, it wasn’t a bookstore anymore.
It was a moment, and it was theirs.
They didn’t stay long.
Just enough time to forget the city outside, to feel the shift in the way they looked at each other.
And then, they were walking again.
Through intermittent sunlight and low chatter, the late afternoon unfolded around them.
They slippedinto a small West Village bistro as the sun dipped low, the golden hour casting lazy shadows across the candlelit table.
Over wine and quiet conversation, the space between them shifted—not louder, just closer.
Walls thinned.
He told her about his grandfather. About architecture. About building things that were meant to last.
She offered pieces of herself, too—not everything, but enough to matter. She told him about Morgantown. About the ways Silverbranch felt like exile. About how sometimes surviving meant shrinking to fit.
Gideon listened with a kind of focus thatrattled her.
Not polite interest—presence.
The kind of presence she didn’t trust easily.
But with him… she was starting to.
His thumb found the edge of her hand, the smallest touch, steady and grounding.
He didn’t speak.
He didn’t need to.
By the timethey reached the top of the Empire State Building, the sky had turned dark and the city below was burning with light, scattered, restless, and alive.
Tourist spot or not, this was part ofhisNew York. The one he wanted her to see.
Not for the view. Not really.
