The Empire State rises in the distance, framed between buildings.
"And you get to see this icon," she adds.
"The Flatiron," I say.
"I've always wanted an office in the point," Sam says. "The very tip."
I glance at her. "I have never been in there, have you?"
"No."
A couple stands from a bench near the path into the park, gathering their coats.
I nod toward it. "You want to grab that?"
"Sure."
We sit, angled slightly toward the street. The Empire State glows over her shoulder. The Flatiron stands solid at our side.
For a minute, we just watch the traffic move past.
I reach over and gently take her hand.
Sam looks at me.
"You've been quiet," I say. "What are you thinking?"
Sam looks down at our hands. She takes a deep breath in—like she's about to say something.
She doesn't.
"Are you mad at me?"
That gets her attention. Sam sits up a bit straighter, turning her body slightly toward me. "Wait. What?"
"For having an exhibit tonight."
Sam blinks. She opens her mouth, closes it, then laughs—a small, flustered sound. "No. Tom. I mean—well, yes."
I laugh despite myself. "Okay, which is it?"
Sam laughs too, shaking her head. "I mean, no—that work is so stunning it needs to be shown. Yes, that you haven't shown it before. I mean, you saw my reaction. I could barely contain my tears."
My smile fades slightly. "Are you mad I didn't show you first?"
Sam looks at me. Her expression softens. She reaches up and gently touches my cheek with her fingers.
"No.
I'm curious Tom.
But I’m not mad."
"I thought about showing you," I say. "Pulling it up on my laptop, asking what you thought."
I shake my head slightly. "But then I thought—maybe I would've just kept it between us. Let that be enough."
I meet her eyes. "I didn't want that. I wanted to do what you did. Take the risk. Put it out there. And I wanted you to see it the way it was supposed to be seen—the way everyone else would. Finished, mounted, real."
