Lenzin shakes his hand briefly. “Appreciate it.”
The man’s eyes flick to Lucy and her sparkly backpack.
“She starts preschool Monday,” Lenzin says evenly, redirecting attention like it’s nothing.
The man smiles at her instead. And moves on.
He doesn’t ask for a photo, doesn’t make a spectacle, which is oddly comforting.
In the garage, he loads everything into the trunk and then scoops Lucy up before pulling her bookbag from one of the shopping bags and asks, “Wanna hold it?”
She squeals, and he chuckles as he opens my door and then steps back and sets her in her seat.
Once he’s in the driver’s side, I look at him, completely at ease, which is nice because I am still twisted up inside at the thought of twins, and how I’m going to manage everything with school, and Lucy.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
“It’s nothing.”
It isn’t nothing, but I don’t argue, because I struggle in a way he doesn’t, and he knows that.
He pulls back onto Columbus Circle and heads uptown, traffic gliding around us. Fifth Avenue gleams ahead.
“What do you think, do we go to a place that has paper napkins or cloth, Schatz?”
“Cloth napkins.” Lucy smiles.
“Cloth napkins,” he agrees.
He valets at Bergdorf’s, a place I’ve walked by a dozen times and never dared look in the window, afraid it would cost me more than I could afford, more than just money, to just catch a glimpse. The doorman opens Lucy’s door first, so I have to get out quickly, worried that if he tries to open mine he’ll leave her unattended.
Lenzin is right there and has to step back because I nearly steamroll over him.
“I was going to get that,” he chuckles.
“I was?—”
He cups the side of my face. “I know, and that is just another facet that makes you more precious to me than any —”
“Come on, let’s go,” Lucy says, jumping up and down as she looks up at the building.
He smiles and, without looking at her, his brown eyes never leaving mine, he bends down and scoops her up.
The elevator rises, and then suddenly we’re overlooking Central Park. The sun is setting, and it is stunning. Lucy’s little hands are on the glass, eyes wide as she takes it in.
“Watching her, seeing this.” He sighs. “Makes it even more beautiful, yes?”
“Absolutely,” I whisper.
We step into the restaurant, and Lucy is all smiles, “It’s glowing.”
“It is,” I agree as we stay back and Lenzin speaks with the hostess.
We don’t wait even a minute before we’re whisked to a table by the windows, where we can see the skyline as the sun sets further.
He pulls Lucy’s chair out first. Then mine. Sits last.
He unfolds his napkin and places it in his lap before even glancing at the menu.
