Four hours later, the kitchen smells like heaven, and I’m riding high on a wave of undeserved pride for managing not to get in Jackie’s way. Too much.
Jackie lifts a lid, gives an approving nod, then unties her apron.
“You’ve got it from here.” She pats my arm. “Let me know what your mom says.”
That hesitation gives me pause. “Wait. What do you mean? Where are you going?”
“Well, I…,” she trails off. “I didn’t want to assume.”
“Stay,” I say, a little too quickly. “Please.”
Her gaze drops to her hands. “But your parents… they might think I’m back in your life.”
They’ve probably been hoping for this moment for years.
I curl a finger under her chin and meet her gaze. and lift her face to mine. “Well,” I murmur, “aren’t you?”
“OK.” She laughs lightly. “Let’s set the table.”
“That’s all done. Keep me company while I finish up. Tell me about how you pitched the heart idea. I bet they were giggling and kicking their feet.”
She grins and starts talking, not sparing any detail. It feels so easy in moments like these.
By the time the intercom buzzes again, the dining room feels lived in. Not just a space I pass through, since I never bother eating here.
But the part I love the most? Jackie looking so at home in the life I made for myself, curled up on the reading armchair by the large window, smiling at the stories about my childhood friends.
“Oh, sweetheart,” my mom chirps, her face lighting up at the sight of Jackie.
“Not too shabby, son,” Dad rumbles in the hallway, patting my back.
Jackie’s roast pork loin with cranberry glaze is a hit.
Mom leans back in her chair, letting out a theatrical sigh. “If I don’t move, I’ll slip into a food coma.”
Jackie hides a happy smile behind her napkin when Dad groans, “I wouldn’t mind thirds.”
“Let’s walk it off,” Jackie suggests. “Riverside Park’s a few blocks away. It’s so pretty at night. You can see the New Jersey lights across the river.”
“Let’s!” Mom claps her hands, startling Dad upright. His chin had started dipping dangerously toward his chest. This man can fall asleep anywhere if he’s full.
I glance at Jackie. As much as I’d like to have a romantic stroll with her under the swaying trees, it might not be safe.
“It’s OK,” she mouths. “Patrick’s downstairs.”
The September air cools as we get closer to the waterfront, and the park is silent except for the occasional jogger and the melodic slap of water against stone.
It’s just the four of us.
And Patrick. Lurking in the shadows somewhere, close enough to reach Jackie if needed. But I’m closer, fingers intertwined.
Like when she showed me her favorite places around the city. Back when I’d just landed in New York. Disoriented, with fifty bucks to my name, besides the few months of rent my parents helped out with.
These memories feel like they belong to someone else. Maybe it’s time we made new ones to fit the people we are today.
Mom pauses by the railing, waving us over. “Let’s take a picture here. All of us.”
“I’ll take it,” Jackie offers, reaching for her phone, but I gently catch her wrist.
