“Thanks for the tour tonight,” I say when there’s a natural lull between dumpling eating. “Or maybe I should say food tour.”
Rooney gestures around the restaurant. “For a man who doesn’t eat when the stars shine, you did good. This city has a lot of great food to offer.”
“It’s clear you really love it here.”
“I’ve never loved anything like I love New York City,” she says softly. It sounds heartfelt and true. Rooney looks down at the glossy table. “Though I can’t say for sure what love would feel like. I’ve never been in a serious relationship. It’s the hope for love one day, though, that inspires me.”
This surprises me. I say so.
Our eyes catch. Rooney studies me, her gaze intense. Like the world has been paused for two seconds. Then it speeds up, spinning faster than ever.
I inhale deeply. “I’ve never been in love, either.” I don’t say it to mock her or to fill the silence. I’ve never been in love. “My relationships don’t last more than half a year. That’s no time for love to take form, whatever love even means. Honestly, I fear it.”
“You fear love?” Rooney asks.
I shrug. “Love is so unknown, and I need to know the unknown. I’ve never met someone who I could feel secure enough with, I suppose. Never met someone who could be there consistently.”
Rooney nods, listening intently. I continue talking.
“Being in love seems like jumping into the deep end without knowing how to swim. Or going to space without a crew in Mission Control helping guide you.”
“It does seem like that,” Rooney agrees. “But I love the unknown because it’s hopeful and explorative. You have to take a leap of faith.”
I grin. “I prefer knowing where I’m going.”
“You took a chance with me tonight chasing our lantern,” she says.
“That was not typical for me,” I explain, still amazed that Iagreed to follow Rooney all over the city. I didn’t think anything could distract me from this morning’s news and that shitshow of a conference. But then there was Rooney.
“And yet, there you were.”
I search for answers in Rooney’s eyes. But I think she’s looking for them in mine, too. “What if you spend your life chasing your lantern and it ends in a fiery crash?” I ask. “Was the search worth it?”
Rooney’s eyebrows rise, disappearing beneath her bangs. “If you knew where your lantern was going, would it be as beautiful of a journey? I like to believe it would lead you to the right spot at the exact moment of where you’re meant to be.”
The restaurant is quiet, everyone focused on the food in front of them. Even the classical music playing overhead is low on the speakers.
I clear my throat. “Can I ask you something?”
Rooney sets her chopsticks down. “Of course.”
I regret having made the moment more intense than it needed to be. I take a deep breath in and ask the question I’ve been dreading all night. “Where does our lantern take us?”
Chapter 9
ROONEY
It’s the question I keep asking myself. Will we ever see each other again? Frankly, I’m surprised to hear him ask it, too. The signs aren’t clear enough yet, but the obstacles are pretty obvious: thousands of miles between us and fundamental, contradicting beliefs. Yet it’s been so easy being with him.
The thread may stretch or tangle but never break. When the man on the other end of my red string and I are brought together, our strings finally shortened enough to see each other, it won’t be a question. When I meet him, I’ll know. I thought I’d have a clearer gut reaction when I knew. Is this me knowing? How can I be sure?
I focus on my tea, my mind whirling with thoughts. What could that have possibly meant, Jack wanting to take me toEntangled? He didn’t give any indication that he thought that I was the artist, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him what happened to my art. In his memories, the installation can remain intact. It was too sweet that he wanted me to see it. He thought I’d like it, and he’s right. I would’ve. Oddly, I feel comforted knowing that Jack has seen something so important to me, while it lasted.
Does Jack have a red string tied around his ankle? Even if he did, would it lead to me? I need to sleep today off and wake up tomorrow with fresh eyes and a clear mind. Everything will make more sense in the daylight.
“Rooney?”
“What? Yes. Sorry,” I say, breaking free from my thought spiral. I bring my cup up to my lips and blow ripples into the tea, absorbing the heat from the porcelain into my hands. “I don’t know where our lantern takes us, but that’s the beauty of it. If we knew that everything today was leading to this moment, and we knew where we’d end up—in this exact Chinese restaurant—would you have skipped all of tonight just to be here? Would this moment mean as much? Would that change how we feel about each other?” When I say this, my chest overheats at my bold assumption.
