“You boys went through hell together.” Mauve’s voice cracked a bit.
“Nice to meet you,” Faith said softly.
Shadows crept across the woman’s face, and she attempted a smile. “Can I get you two anything to drink?”
Faith ordered a latte, and he settled for a regular old coffee, with a large plate of beignets to share. They spent about an hour at the café, and by the time they got back onto the road, it was closing in on noon. Traffic had increased, but he made good time, and they made it to Manhattan by two o’clock. Gus founda spot for his bike close to Central Park, and once it was secure, the two of them wandered over.
“I think the last time I was here I was maybe five or six years old.” Gus walked beside her as they made their way into the park. He had vague memories of running down the footpaths, of water and big open spaces. Sunday and Ford. Maybe Ollie.
“That’s a long time ago,” she replied.
“Decades.”
She grinned at that. “How old are you?” she asked.
“I’ll tell if you do.”
She shrugged. “I’ve got nothing to hide. I’m twenty-seven.”
“Thirty-three.”
“More than half a decade.”
“Huh?” he turned to her.
“Older than me.” She laughed and he liked the sound of it. “Five years. Half a decade.”
“Are you calling me old?” He liked the way she smelled. And he really liked the way her eyes changed from hazel to green when the sun hit differently.
“I’m calling youolderrr.” She stretched the two syllables into three.
He grinned and they continued walking.
“I’ve always loved it here in the fall when the trees change color. Or when it first snows. The first one is always special.” She sounded wistful, full of remembrance.
“You know the park well?”
A weird expression flitted across her face, something he picked up on, but Gus didn’t want to push things. This woman was hiding shit, but then so was he.
“Well, enough, I suppose.” A slow smile spread across her face, and she reached for his hand. “Come on. I want to show you something.”
Her hand felt small in his, and though he couldn’t remember the last time he’d held a woman’s hand, he wondered why he hadn’t done it more. He kind of liked it.
Or maybe it was just her. Faith. The girl with a made-up last name.
“What do you think?” she asked breathlessly as they stood near a brick building that housed a carousel. “Isn’t it gorgeous?” She tugged on his arm and pulled him closer. “The detail. The craftmanship. The colors and music. It looks like something out of a fairy tale.”
Gus stared at the building as a memory took shape in his head. But it was obscure, stuck between the shadows and pictures in his mind. He’d been here before. Stood in that line and held hands with . . .
He frowned. Not his mother. His father, then?
“Hey,” Faith said softly, moving close. “Are you okay?”
“I’m good.”
I think.
“I know you. Where’s your doggie?”
