I grimaced. “Don’t mention movies right now.”
The taxi eased off again. “I’m going to take a guess that the New York adventure wasn’t exactly what you thought it was going to be?”
“That’s putting it mildly,” I said. Professionally speaking, it had been one of the best and worst experiences I could ever have dreamed of. It had all seemed so simple when I’d boarded that flight mere weeks ago – smash the scriptwriting, impress some execs and hopefully find a way to climb the ladder. Now, everything was murky; after my behavior tonight, never mind quitting, Lin would almost certainly be firing me.
“You all right back there?” Ivan asked.
“Just thinking how naive I was to think this secondment to New York would change everything for the better.”
“I don’t understand,” Ivan said.
“Did you not hear about me pushing a producer into a pool?”
“I heard that you fell in love,” he retorted. “Is that not life changing for the better?”
“Yes.” Trouble was, I didn’t know what to do with that fact. “But also no. I’m flying home Friday.”
“Lucie the Brit,” Ivan groaned. “I thought you were a dreamer.”
“I don’t know what I am anymore.”
The taxi squealed to a stop outside the subway. Ivan craned his neck around to look at me. “If you love this man, you’ll find a way,” he said. “Dreamers like you and me? We don’t let anything stand in our path.”
“Damn.” I stared at him. “You should write a self-help book or something.”
Ivan threw back his head and laughed. “Maybe I will. Now go.” He pointed at the subway station. “I have a family waiting for me.”
I fished out a twenty from my purse. “Will this cover the ride?”
Ivan batted my hand away. “I’m off the clock.”
“I insist.” I threw the money onto his front seat. “Buy your wife a bunch of flowers on me, at least.”
He laughed again, then pocketed the cash. “Go to your man,” he said.
“How do you know I’m going to him?” I said, one hand on the door handle.
“Lucie the Brit, I’m a fan of the movies,” he said with a gentle smile. “The mad dash across a city? I know a romantic gesture when I see one.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
What felt like hours later, but in reality was just one, I emerged from a subway station on Seventh Avenue, my feet burning with pain. Despite it being the early hours of the morning, the trains had been busy, and I’d had to stand for a section of the journey, garnering more than a little attention in my exquisite gown. Now, I had several blocks to walk to make it to the High Line, but every step felt like a blade piercing the balls of my feet. Would Elliot even be there? I cursed my phone for dying on me; what if he was trying to call me back? He’d be worried. Although my flat was not too far away, along with my phone charger, every second I was spending without Elliot was a waste. Determinedly, I hobbled down the street, but my progress was slow and, finally, I caved. I leaned against a lamppost and unbuckled my shoes, groaning with relief as my feet hit the cool pavement. I knew it wasn’t sanitary and I dreaded to think what the soles of my feet would look like but if I walked a moment longer in these beautiful murderous heels, my feet would fall off at the ankle. I was able to pick up the pace and as I thought of Elliot, alone, confused, possibly hurt over the tumult of the evening, I sped into a trot, thena run, crossing Eighth and then Ninth Avenues, my sequined gown flowing behind me as I sped towards the High Line.
Finally, I’d made it to Twenty-Third Street. I looked at the wall and then down at my gown. “Sorry, Lando,” I said. I gathered up the dress, using a hair tie to fix all the bunched-up material around my thighs so it didn’t snag on anything. I threw the evil heels up onto the wall, then clambered up after them, making my way to the little access point in the fence. Wincing, I lifted the flap and eased through, moving slowly so none of the fabric caught. There was just the slope to navigate now, the one that would lead me to the High Line walkway. The ground was littered with rocks and twigs; I hadn’t considered this when I removed my shoes, so it was slow going as I pulled myself up the slope, kicking away the sharper-looking detritus so I could pick my way up. The slowness was infuriating but, eventually, I made it to the top.
I pushed through the trees and looked up and down the path. Where was he? I hurried towards the viewpoint he and I had sat at, the one he’d told me was his favored thinking spot. He wasn’t there. My heart sank. What an idiot I was; I’d just assumed he’d come here instead of slinking home. Perhaps he’d even caught a train home to see his family.
I slumped onto the bench and looked down at myself. Although my dress had miraculously emerged unscathed from my breaking and entering, my legs were another story altogether. My feet were red and puffy, with scratches all up my shins from the scaling of the slope. I loosened the hair-band and let the dress slither back down my body. Now what? I didn’t fancy tackling the climb back down to the street, but then again, I couldn’t stay here long. If a guard that wasn’t Mal caught me, I would be in deep shit.
I heaved myself up again. I could stay here, bemoaning how utterly twisted and confusing my life was, or I could make myescape back to my apartment, charge my phone and try to call Elliot again, make sure he was okay. I walked away from the viewpoint and back to the path, where I paused, debating whether to climb back down the slope or take my chances with one of the other exits.
It was then that I saw a figure, maybe one hundred yards down the walkway, standing with a jacket thrown over his shoulder, peering at me in confusion. Tall, rumpled hair, disheveled tux. It was him. I broke into a sprint, all aches and pains forgotten.
“Lucie?” Elliot gasped as I approached. “What—”
His concerns were muffled as I threw myself into his arms. He lifted me off the floor and held me, his face buried in my hair.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled over and over into his shoulder.
