He closes his eyes, as if replaying something in his mind. “He once told me that he didn’t know how, but he knew what I needed and wouldn’t ask why.” He opens his eyes, then picks up my foot and kisses my toes. “He’s a good brother.”
I nod. “The best. We’re both lucky to have such great support systems with our siblings.”
“Agreed.”
After a moment, I ask, “Do you think you’ll ever tell him?”
“I never planned on it.”
“I hear a ‘but’ in that sentence.”
He stares out the floor-to-ceiling window. “But I think soon I’ll be ready to. I’ve held it in for way too long, and I think maybe if I finally get it all off my chest, I can finally move on and live without the horror my life once was.”
I sit up and shimmy toward him. “It will, I know it.” I take his hand in mine. “Now are you ready to forget it all and have the best day ever?”
He brings my hand to his mouth and kisses my fingertips. “Let’s go. Even if I’d rather stay home and fuck you all day.” He winks, then stands up to get dressed.
I throw my head back, laughing loudly at my filthy man, whom I love to pieces.
Today’s going to be a good day.
“Hey, asshole! Get out of the fucking bike lane!” A man barrels through the light, shouting at a tourist who’s blissfully unaware of his surroundings.
“Ahhh, I love New York,” I say, laughing.
Nate snorts. “Who can blame him? That guy’s a moron. Why is he standing in the street like that?”
I shrug. “No clue.”
A gust of wind cuts through the street, and I pull my jacket tighter, winding my scarf closer around my neck.
The surprise heatwave from a few weeks ago is a distant memory, reminding us winter is right around the corner. However, that hasn’t stopped New Yorkers from filling every inch of pavement with life.
The streets of the West Village are packed on this sunny Saturday afternoon, and the outdoor seating is full to capacity.
The bar across from us had outdoor TVs showing college football, where we watched the first half of the USC game; the electricity of a fall weekend has been truly magnetic.
Nate slips his arm around my shoulders, steering us easily through the crowd, past steaming grates and honking taxis. He presses a quick, chaste kiss to my temple, like second nature, before holding out a slice of pizza.
“Try this.”
I take a bite and moan, my eyes fluttering closed. “God.”
He laughs softly.
No one can deny that New York pizza is unmatched.
I take another bite before he guides us toward a nearby park, where we snag the only open bench.
He takes his turn with the slice, groaning just like I did. “I haven’t had a proper classic slice in forever.”
“I could easily eat three,” I say, chewing thoughtfully. “Guess I’m running extra tomorrow.”
He freezes mid-bite. “Alone?”
I nod, washing it down with the crispest Diet Coke I’ve had in ages. “Well, you’re leaving for London. And Leo and Addie both hate running.”
“Mads…” He sighs, and a look crosses his face that tells me I’m not going to love what comes next. “Not when I’m away. I’ll be worried sick that something will happen to you.”
