Oh.
I miss Mase. He has a bye week, and I was hoping I’d see him, but his coach signed them up for some charity event instead.
I lean back as we drive toward Central Park, the buildings stretching taller and taller until we reach 57th Street, Billionaires’ Row.
Tourists crowd the sidewalks, cameras pointed skyward, trying to capture the impossible scale of it all.
“Want to get dropped off at the start of the park and walk?” Nate asks. “It’ll probably be a thirty-minute walk. Longer if Skye stops to sniff everything.”
“Yeah,” I reply. “Let’s go for a step-count record.”
Suddenly, my stomach twists unpleasantly.
“What’s wrong?” Nate straightens, instantly alert. “Is it your stomach again?”
“No,” I lie. “I’m fine.”
He studies me. “Don’t lie to me. We can come back another day.”
“Absolutely not. I told you, I’m fine. I don’t get sick.”
He doesn’t argue, but his concern lingers.
“Sir,” he says to the driver. “Change of plans. Please drop us near the 85th Street entrance on 5th.”
“Of course, Mr. Davenport.”
“I’m—”
“You’re not fine,” he cuts in gently. “We’ll visit Camila, then straight home. End of discussion. If you caught what Claud had, you’ll want to be in bed.”
Ugh, I hate that he’s probably right.
We watched Claud the other night when Juliette and Harrison went to a doctor’s appointment, and she slept over. We were supposed to bring her to school in the morning, but that never happened.
She was sick as a dog all night.
Twenty-four bug, apparently.
I have too much work to be sick, so I’m praying I’m just getting my period early and that these stomach cramps aren’t from a bug.
Traffic is light, so we’re on the other side of the park in no time.
The second we begin making our way to Gilded Run, the path to Camila’s memorial stone, Skye becomes determined to sniff every single footprint pressed into the dirt.
“She must smell all the other dogs.”
“Or Romeo and Juliet.”
I furrow my brow. “Huh?”
“Our resident coyotes,” he explains. “Romeo and Juliet.”
I step closer to him, scanning the trees.
Nate laughs, and I slap his chest. “Don’t joke with me.”
“I’m serious. They’ve lived here for years. You’re acting like they’re going to jump out and attack us.”
