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We walk a few more steps before the thought that’s been nagging at me finally pushes its way out. Because yes, I’m annoyed at his family. But they’re still his family and I don’t want to come between them.

“You know you really should check your phone,” I say.

He glances sideways at me. “Why? Is it making you feel uncomfortable that I’m not?”

“A little,” I admit, wrinkling my nose. “If there’s some kind of emergency, I’m going to feel guilty that you didn’t find out.”

We reach the corner of the Rockefeller Center. A few tourists mill about, taking photographs of the angels playing trumpets that line the entrance.

Theo stops walking and looks at me, like he’s trying to figure me out. Then he reaches into his coat pocket. He pulls his phone out, looks at it for about two seconds before he turns his hand over and drops it straight through a metal grate that covers a storm drain.

“Oh my God!” I stare with horror as it hits the water far beneath with a plop. When I pull my gaze up, he’s standing there, still looking nonchalant.

“Your phone is in the sewer,” I say, because all other words escape me.

“I know.” He grins, like he hasn’t thrown a thousand-dollar piece of electronic equipment down the drain, literally.

“People won’t be able to get in contact with you,” I tell him, because seriously. I still can’t believe it.

“That’s pretty much the point.” He’s completely unfazed. “I don’t want them to.”

“But your emails. Your contacts. Theo…” I shake my head. “We need to get it out.”

He studies the drain for a moment, like he’s considering it, then looks back at me. “You know what?” he says calmly. “I think I’ll leave it there.”

“That phone probably costs more than my rent.”

“You live in Manhattan. I doubt it.”

He takes a step closer, his hands sliding into the pockets of his coat. There’s a smile pulling at the corner of his lip. “Georgia, every time that thing buzzes someone needs something from me. And I’m tired of it. I want to concentrate on you.”

He nods toward the street ahead. “Now,” he says lightly, “weren’t you about to show me the most famous Christmas tree in the world?”

For the next two hours I take him on a tour of central Manhattan. After the Rockefeller Center we wander down Fifth Avenue, peering through the glass windows of closed department stores where elaborate Christmas displays glow behind locked doors.

Theo insists on buying us coffee from the one street cart that’s open, so we carry the steaming cups with us as we head toward Central Park, our breath fogging in the cold air.

And as we walk, we talk. Really talk.

He tells me about the mole being Kate. How she’d been feeding information to the journalist for months while dating Alex to dig for more.

I mutter all the dark thoughts I’ve been having since I met her. How I knew there was something wrong with her. That she was bad news from the start. How stupidly jealous I was that she knew how firm his bed is.

Then it’s my turn.

I tell him about Patrick. About the way my life imploded so spectacularly it felt like the universe was trying to shove me in a new direction. About my job being up in the air and the strange mix of terror and excitement that comes with realizing you might get to choose a completely different life.

“My mom thinks this is the push I needed to leave my comfort zone,” I admit.

“And what do you think?” Theo asks.

I watch a pair of kids throwing a ball across the frozen grass.

“I think she might be right.”

We end up walking and talking for hours. The winter light slowly fades, turning the sky above the park from pale blue to soft gray. The air grows colder too, and the crowds start to thicken as families emerge for evening dinners and Christmas lights.

My fingers are starting to go numb by the time we reach the edge of the park again.