Oh God.
Henry glances at me with a grin. “Isn’t this so cool?”
I manage a nod, drawing another deep breath to control my spiraling anxiety. Luke appears at that moment in his sweats, but I’m too distracted by the looming trapeze to appreciate how sexy he looks.
He sends me a warm grin and guilt seeps into me. He’s gone to all this trouble to organize this, just for me, and here I am being ungrateful. Well, terrified mostly, but also ungrateful.
“You ready?” He gestures to the tiny platform suspended by ropes.
“Yes!” I squeal, attempting to inject enthusiasm into my voice even as it quivers. “Let’s do this!”
The instructor runs through a few of the basics with us, before strapping me into a harness and clipping some ropes on. Then I have to rub my hands in chalk and follow her up a rope ladder. My heart is hurling itself against my ribs, trying to escape from my body and what I’m about to do. I don’t blame it. And I’m going to need more chalk because I’m sweating this off. I can barely remember to breathe at this point, let alonecontrolmy breathing. Each rung of the ladder feels like a nail in my coffin. I wish I’d hugged Alex tighter when I said goodbye this morning.
I should just come clean and tell Luke I can’t do this. So Harriet 2.0 isn’t real, I made her up, and I’m not some kind of daredevil. He’ll understand, won’t he?
But as I clamber onto the platform and cling to the ropes for dear life, I make the mistake of glancing down at Luke and Henry. Luke’s face is lit with joy as he gives me a thumbs-up.
Henry cups his hands around his mouth and yells, “Go, Aunt Harriet!”
Oh Christ.
On wobbling legs, I manage to make it to the middle of the platform. The woman holds me by the back of my waist harness (Why? In case I get too enthusiastic and fling myself off prematurely?) and fiddles with some ropes, while I try my best not to black out. My pulse is deafening.
Then she pulls the trapeze bar forward with a big pole and, somehow, it’s in my hands.
“Whenever you’re ready,” she says.
If I wasn’t convinced I was breathing my last breath, I’d laugh.Whenever I’m ready. Yeah, right.
Okay, no. I need to take back control here. My therapist years ago taught me to tune into my physical senses to stop myself from getting swept up in my frantic thoughts, so I force my attention back to my body. It’s trembling, and my chest is tight, and my head is spinning. I can’t feel my legs. But the slower I breathe down into my belly, the more I start to relax. I mean, “relax” is a relative term at this point, but it’s helping.
I remind myself of all the ways I’ve stepped outside my comfort zone over the past week. I flew to New York alone. I had sex with a hot stranger on an airplane. I made new friends and explored the city. I dyed my hair. I now own—and use—a vibrator, for God’s sake. I can handle a little swing through the air.
I can do this.
I take a deep, deep breath, close my eyes, and before I can talk myself out of it, I step off the platform.
And just like that, I’m doing it—I’m flying through the air, gripping tightly to the trapeze bar. All I’m aware of is the roar of blood in my ears, the whoosh of the air as I swing. Then I open my eyes and for the first time since we arrived up here, I notice everything beyond the trapeze rig. I notice where we are: by the Hudson River. I notice the Statue of Liberty, all the way down in the harbor, and the skyline around us—the stunning view that I almost didn’t see.
Wow.
My body glides smoothly through the cool air and my ears tune in to everything else. I hear Luke and Henry cheering me on and whistling below, and elation and pride burst like a firework in my chest.
Oh my God. I did it. I did this bold thing and it isincredible.
As my swing slows, I take another lungful of air and let go of the trapeze bar. I land with a bounce on the net below, then scramble to the edge to find the others.
Henry is already halfway up the platform for his turn, but Luke is right by the net with a mile-wide grin, his arms outstretched to help me down. I reach for his hand, but instead he grabs my waist, lifting me from the net. I’m so amped up that I leap at him, wrapping my arms around his neck and winding my legs around his waist as he spins me in circles.
“That was amazing,” he murmurs into my ear, and I squeeze him tight. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t have done that. I wouldn’t have forced myself to do something so daring, and proved that, actually, Icando things that scare me.
“Thank you,” I breathe. I wait for him to put me down, but he holds me tighter. And I might be imagining it, but I’m sure he just smelled my hair. I huff in his scent too, feeling giddy. And for the first time, I let myself acknowledge the little wish that aches inside me: that he wasn’t married, that everything was different—that he could, in some impossible way, be mine.
Eventually, he loosens his grip and sets me down. He gazes at me, his eyes animated and his mouth stretched into the biggest smile. My skin tingles from where his hands still rest on my waist, and my heart is racing again—only this time it’s not from the trapeze.
I’ve never felt more alive. This is better than the plane; this is something else. I’m struck again by Luke’s ability to push me out of my comfort zone and make me feel like someone else, and all I want to do is kiss him.
“Uncle Luke!”
