Page 43 of A Really Bad Idea

I look down at the uneaten dessert. “Yeah.”

He pays the bill, and I wave to Frank and his date as we exit. We get into the SUV, and I’m surprised when it drives less than a mile away and pulls over onto the side of the road. The driver opens Christian’s door and hands him a bag as he steps out. He holds his hand out, and I take it, wondering why we are now standing at the foot of the Brooklyn Bridge.

“Care to go for a walk?” he asks.

I look back at the bridge and the cars driving in and out of Manhattan. Then, I look down at my shoes. “I didn’t dress for a walk.”

Christian reaches into the bag and pulls out a pair of sneakers, a perfect size nine.

“How did you get those?”

“I have my ways.” He kneels down on the ground and lifts my foot, gliding my shoe off, placing my toes into one sneaker, and lacing it up. He does the same with the second. My heels are placed in the bag and handed to the driver, who brings them back in the car. When Christian rises, he takes his gray sports coat and drapes it over my shoulders, as he did earlier.

We walk.

The pedestrian path is in the center of the bridge with the inbound and outbound traffic lanes on both sides of us. I’ve never walked the Brooklyn Bridge, and now that I’m doing it, I find it equally exhilarating and frightening.

“Is it strange for me to say, this is not what I expected?” I say, looking down to the roadway beside us.

“Are you scared?” he asks, not surprised by the reaction.

“No. Yes. There’s just a lot going on. And I’m not a huge fan of heights.” I’m walking in the center of the wooden pathway. One plank squeaks when my foot puts weight on it. I react with my own squeak and a body jolt into Christian’s side. “Okay, I am terrified of heights.”

It’s hard to relax up here. On television, the walk is peaceful, romantic even. In real life, it’s loud. Between the wind and the quick-moving cars below, I can barely hear myself think, let alone temper my erratic heart.

He laughs and puts a hand around my shoulders, pulling me in. “You’re missing the whole experience.”

“Well, we’re high. Really high. If I look down, I can see the traffic lanes, and the river is …” My hand clenches on to his sweater.

“Don’t look down.”

I look up at the top of the one-hundred-and-fifty-year-old bridge and instantly regret it. “Do you think those cables will snap and send us flying to our deaths?”

He laughs and kisses my head. Not my forehead, but my actual head, like I’m a child. Releasing me, he walks over to a bench and steps up onto it. He holds out his hand, asking me to join him.

I step back and curl my arms around my body. “Hell no.”

The bench is propped up against the rail that looks down to the lanes of cars driving out of Manhattan.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, his eyes wide and tempting.

I feel my feet move slightly, and I wonder if the bridge actually swayed.

He lets out an exasperated breath. “Meadow, get yourself up here.”

Like an insolent child, I follow his order, taking his hand in mine as I climb up onto the bench. He wraps his hands on my waist as I wobble, getting my footing.

Our bodies are facing one another as my hands grip on to his elbows. He places his forehead against mine, and my breathing comes out in shallow pants.

“It’s all about focus. Look down, and you reveal your fears. Look up, and you overthink your obstacles. The trick is to look forward,” he says, spinning me in his arms so that my back is to his and I’m facing the city.

I gasp at the sight. Downtown Manhattan is lit up in bright white lights against the black sky. The tall buildings look to be emerging out of the Hudson River, bold against its glass-like quality in the night. From this vantage point, so much closer than we were at the restaurant, the buildings are large, overpowering, and breathtaking—a postcard of the city most wait their entire lives to visit once. And here I am, living in it. Basking in it.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathe.

“Sometimes, you need to look out of your comfort zone to find your peace.”

Now that my eyes are open to the gorgeous view, I don’t notice the cars below me, as I did before. I couldn’t care less about the height, and I’m eager to walk on those wooden planks to get closer to the city.