"Later. I want to edit it first."
The city lights blurred past as we made our way back to Manhattan.
***
When we reach her building, I walk her to the door.
"Thank you," she says. "I liked seeing the city through your eyes."
I don't answer right away, just letting myself look at her for a second. I step closer, sliding my hand up her neck and tangling my fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck. She tilts her head up, her eyes holding mine until the very last second.
I kiss her slowly, letting the cold night air disappear between us. When I finally pull back, my thumb lingers on her bottom lip.
"Text me when you're inside your apartment?" I say.
“Always."
***
My laptop is already open when I sit down at my desk.
Eleven PM. The apartment is quiet.
I pull up the photo I took of Sam in DUMBO.
The framing is perfect. The light. Her expression.
I convert it to black-and-white.
The image transforms. High contrast. Dramatic shadows. Her face luminous against the dark background.
I stare at it.
Black-and-white.
I sit there for a long moment, looking at the image on my screen.
Then I open my Bronx Series folder.
The first image loads: a grandmother and two kids on a fire escape in Mott Haven, laundry lines crossing the frame like rigging. The youngest is laughing, reaching for the camera. The light is late afternoon, warm. The building behind them is tagged and crumbling, but the way she's holding that kid—solid, anchored—turns the whole frame into home.
I open a new browser tab. The submission portal loads slowly.
I drag the fire escape file from the Bronx folder toward the upload area.
The cursor hovers over the button.
My finger tenses on the trackpad. I don't let go. I don't click submit.
The file just sits there, waiting—one half-inch of pressure away from the life I keep telling myself I’ll start “someday.”
Chapter forty-four
Sam
"So." Nadia sets her phone face-up on the table, notes app already open. "Standing Tom agenda item."
I'm mid-sip when she says it. The latte's still too hot, burns the roof of my mouth just slightly. I set the cup down, careful to center it on the coaster.
