“Waiting for someone specific.”
“Lucky girl.”
A group of tourists took photos. A teenager yelled something in a language he didn’t recognize. An older man in a business suit shook his head and muttered about millennials.
“You’ve been standing here twenty minutes,” a woman with a stroller observed. “Either she’s worth it, or you need therapy.”
“Both.”
She gave him a thumbs-up and walked on.
By the time Tessa’s event would be wrapping up, Gabriel had been offered food by six different strangers, photographed approximately forty times, and asked twice if this was a social media stunt.
It was desperation dressed up as romance.
She came around the corner at five thirty in a black coat, her stride tired, the expression she wore when a job had gone well but had taken everything out of her.
He was sitting on the sidewalk now. His legs had given out an hour ago. The old jeans and worn sweater Knox had dug out of his closet made him look like someone who needed help.
Tessa didn’t slow down. She reached into her bag, pulled out a water bottle and a protein bar, and crouched down beside him.
“Here.” She pressed them into his hands. “There’s a shelter on?—“
She stopped. Her eyes found the sign first. WILLING TO STARVE FOR LOVE.
Then they found his face.
“Gabriel?”
He looked up at her. Unshaven. Exhausted. Holding a water bottle and a protein bar she had given him out of pure instinct. “Hi.”
She stood up so fast she nearly stumbled. “What are you doing?”
“Waiting for you.”
“On the ground. Dressed like a homeless person.”
“I noticed.” He pushed himself to his feet, reached into his pocket, and pulled out the folded paper. He held it out to her.
She took it. Unfolded it. Her expression changed as she recognized the signatures.
“I’ve seen this.”
“I know. I want you to see what it means now.”
People were stopping. A couple holding hands paused mid-stride. A man in a suit lowered his phone. More phones were coming out, of course they were, this was New York and public drama was free entertainment.
“A long time ago,” Gabriel said. “Long enough after we broke each other’s hearts that I should’ve known better. I signed this because I was sure I’d never love anyone the way I had loved you. I told myself it would protect me.” He shook his head. “All it did was give me an excuse to stop trying.”
“But you walked back into my life, and everything I thought I knew about staying safe and staying distant fell apart. I should’ve told you. The first week. I should’ve shown you this and explained it. I was scared.”
“Of what?”
“Of you seeing who I really am. A man so terrified of losing someone again that he built his whole life around never having anyone worth losing. I don’t want to be that man anymore. I don’t want to be someone who keeps reminders of his fear in a desk drawer. I had lunch with my mother on Tuesday. I told her about you. I told her about the gift cards. I told her the only opinion that matters to me is yours. She asked me what your business was called. I told her. Whatever else happens, that part is done.”
He looked down at The Oath. “This is just paper.”
He looked at her.
