He glanced up. He hadn’t even noticed.
“I bet you could see Saturn from the roof deck,” she said.
“I haven’t been up there yet.”
She turned to look at him. “Really?”
“Nope.” Another moment passed. Then he shot her a lopsided grin. “Want to show me?”
The lobby was empty as they walked to the elevator and Anne pressed the up button. The doors opened almost instantly, andthey both stepped inside. He leaned back against the wall, trying to keep his posture casual, even as his pulse felt like it was kicking through his veins. The space was too small; he couldn’t escape the sound of her short breaths, the smell of her perfume—vanilla and jasmine and peppermint. It reminded him so much of the Anne he used to know, the one who would sneak out at night to meet him at the High Line in the West Village or a jazz bar in Midtown.
He couldn’t tell if it was the memory driving him crazy or the fact that it felt so far away, but before he could figure it out, the doors opened again on the eighth floor.
Anne hesitated for a moment, then stepped out. He half expected her to turn around, point to the stairs at the end of the short hall that led to the roof, and tell him to have a good night. Thankfully, she continued forward.
“I can’t believe you haven’t been out here yet,” she said, producing a key card from her purse and tapping it against the door lock.
“I’ve been busy,” he replied with a shrug.
“I thought you were unemployed?”
He smiled. “Just open the door.”
She smiled too, ducking her head as if she could hide it. The motion caused her hair to fall in front of her face, and he had the urge to tuck it behind her ear.
“Here we are,” she said, pushing the door open to walk outside into the cool night air.
He followed, and stepped out into a small oasis. Bistro lights were strung overhead, casting a soft twinkle across the roof deck’s wooden floor. There was a long table in the center and what looked like someone’s personal garden off to the side. Large pots held a place for summer flowers and matching wood pergolas with shade canopies stretched over long couches and tables. He peered outacross the rooftops of the East Village and at the city skyline of lower Manhattan just beyond it. The views were incredible out to the water—looking uptown he could see the Empire State building glowing with orange and red lights for the fall. He turned around to find Anne standing a few feet away, the lights that lined the cables of the Williamsburg Bridge shining bright enough to make her silhouette glow.
“It’s beautiful,” he said softly.
“I know,” she said. Then she let out a deep sigh and looked up. “When I was little, an astronomy professor from Hunter College lived on the third floor. He used to bring his telescope up here. He’d set it up right in the center and sit for hours. On really clear nights he would let me look through it. I saw Saturn and Jupiter. Even caught a couple of shooting stars once.”
“What happened to him?”
“He moved to Midtown. Right near the building where you had that party in the empty loft space.”
He threw her a skeptical look. “I never threw a party in Midtown.”
“Yes you did. On Fifty-Third, remember? Halfway through the night, you went downstairs to get food and came back with the Russian guys you met on the street. And they ended up bringing a watermelon that was filled with vodka.”
The memory was buried so deep it took a moment for Freddie to find it, but when he did, he smiled. “Holy shit, that’s right. They made us go downstairs and buy more vodka for them. I think those guys still have my credit card.”
Anne laughed. The sound bubbled out of her, so light and effervescent that he couldn’t help but laugh, too.
“I can’t believe you remember that,” he said.
“Of course I do. You wrote me a note on the back of that vodka receipt. It was the first time…” Her voice suddenly faded along with her smile, while a deep blush rose in her cheeks.
It took him another minute to remember why, to recall what he had written to her that night so many years ago.
Annie— It’s Friday, April 15th. You’re upstairs on the roof, having an amazing time, and I’m downstairs buying three handles of vodka for five strangers who look like they could break me like a toothpick. If they do, please know I probably had it coming. Also: I am utterly and completely in love with you.
—Freddie
It was the first time he had said “I love you.” It felt so right at that moment, like the most natural thing in the world. Now the memory left a deep hole behind, a reminder that something substantial had been there once.
“It’s so odd,” she said, her voice so soft he almost missed it.
