"I wonder how many guys proposed to their girlfriends under this statue during the holidays," I say.
She tips her head back to look at me. "For the record, I wouldn't want to be one of them."
"No?"
"No."
She rises up on her toes and kisses me. Brief. Sweet. Her mouth warm against mine.
When she pulls back, I'm still smiling.
"Noted," I say.
Her fingers tap once against my sternum. "Good."
I take her hand and we keep walking, fingers laced together.
***
The Chrysler crown pops into view, lit white against the sky.
We're standing near a tall office tower, its windows almost black at this hour. I slow, scanning the dark glass across the street, then stop.
"Wait," I say.
I step close to her side. "Two steps left."
She shifts. I move with her.
"There." I drop my voice. I set my hand lightly on her hip—just enough to stop her from taking another step. With my other hand, I point toward the dark glass of the office building. "Look at the reflection."
The glass catches it perfectly. The crown floats in the dark facade, doubled and somehow sharper than the real thing. Bright silver arches glowing against the black glass.
Sam inhales. "Oh."
I don't step away. My hand stays at her waist.
"You see it?" I ask.
She nods, her shoulder brushing the front of my jacket. "It looks closer."
"It always does in reflection."
We stand there for a moment, looking at the building suspended in the glass. Then she turns her head to look up at me. I'm watching her, not the reflection.
"You're not even looking at it," she says.
"I'm looking at something better."
She rolls her eyes, but she's smiling.
***
You can't walk through the main concourse of Grand Central without looking up.
The celestial ceiling stretches overhead; constellations painted backward in gold leaf and teal. Sam's head tilts back as we walk through the main concourse, her grip on my hand tightening.
"Come on," I say. "I want to show you something."
