Chapter 22
Anne and Freddie had always been good at wandering.
It was a habit they had picked up early in their relationship—meandering the city streets for hours while their conversation flowed through every topic under the sun—and now it came back to them like they had never stopped. Like it was second nature.
Anne couldn’t ignore the subtle differences now, though.
Like how Freddie didn’t hold her hand. Or how she was so careful not to cut him off while he was speaking, or how he didn’t crack the same jokes as he had done so many years before.
Every step felt deliberate, like they were retracing their path to find something they had lost along the way.
This is fine, she told herself as they grabbed two coffees from Monkford Café. They were playing catch-up. That’s what this was about, wasn’t it? They had to work to get back to being friends—or whatever this was that was building between them. She just had to relax and trust the process.
She tamped down her anxiety as they made their way downtown, crossing Houston Street so they could roam through the Lower East Side.
There was a snowstorm due to hit the city in just a couple of days, but for now the sky was clear and the chill mild enough for her peacoat to keep it at bay as they reminisced about punk rock karaoke nights at Arlene’s Grocery and their favorite bars where they could always get in even without an ID.
By the time they reached Delancey Street and turned toward Soho, Freddie had started to describe his time in Argentina, how the very first installations of his hydroponics system were with indigenous villages in the north, and how they were so successful that he had garnered international attention.
“It was a lot,” he said as they crossed Broadway, ignoring a group of tourists that passed. “Don’t get me wrong, I loved it, but I also feel like I didn’t come up for air for three years.”
“Did you at least get a chance to come home and walk at graduation?” she asked.
He barely concealed his wince. “No. I actually forgot to complete a few credits.”
She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “You forgot?”
“Hey. It’s much easier to do than you think.”
“Oh my God.” She shook her head, as shocked as she was amused. “You’re a college dropout.”
He smiled. “I prefer ‘matriculately challenged.’ ”
Then his hand finally found its way into hers, and the last of her anxiety disappeared.
At some point they must have turned uptown because a little while later they found themselves in Union Square, where the holiday shopping stalls were already set up and crowded with tourists.
They navigated their way through, telling themselves they were getting a head start on Christmas shopping, but instead Freddie bought them hot chocolates, then peppered her with questions about Columbia, the hedge fund, and her years at Kellynch.
After they had exhausted the market’s labyrinthine layout, they started to head home, winding their way through the grid of streets, revisiting memories of stores long closed, and perennial mainstays that seemed completely unchanged.
Anne had no idea how long they had been walking, but by the time they arrived back at the Uppercross, the sun had dipped behind the buildings, and the smile on her face felt permanent.
How have you gone so long without this? she thought as he tugged her forward, fingers intertwined while they made their way through the lobby. It was so easy yet felt so vital. Like she’d had a limb reattached.
Then they stepped into the elevator and Freddie stepped forward to press 8 and then 4, and her smile slowly dissolved.
The rational part of her brain knew she had no right to be disappointed.
Obviously, he wasn’t going to assume she wanted to go upstairs to his apartment.
The polite thing to do was drop her off on her floor and pick up tomorrow where they left off.
She had her coffee with Theo in the morning, but then the rest of the day was clear.
And Tuesday was the party at Eufloria! Maybe she and Freddie could go together. Like a date.
Maybe.
The elevator dinged then, and the doors opened on the fourth floor.
“I guess this is goodbye,” she said as she stepped off, forcing a smile onto her face.
He remained in the elevator car as he nodded. “I guess so.”
“You’re coming to the Eufloria party on Tuesday, right?”
He nodded again. “I’ll be there.”
“Good.” She swallowed, trying to think of something else to say. Anything to buy a few more seconds. “Well. I guess I’ll see you there.”
He smiled, though it looked superficial. “Bye, Annie.”
“Bye.”
The elevator doors closed again.
Their day was over.
This is fine, Anne thought. Better than fine, really. It was exactly what she wanted, wasn’t it? She had spent the day with him, held his hand, and heard his stories—that should have been enough, right?
She turned and unlocked apartment 4B. It was dark when she entered and closed the door behind her, but she didn’t turn on the lamp, just walked to her Christmas tree and plugged in the lights.
It sent a soft glow across the room that she barely noticed.
She was still buzzing from the afternoon.
Every moment had felt vital and necessary, except now that it was done, she felt like a fundamental mistake had been made in the equation that got her from the elevator to here.
Giving each other space was a smart and sensible thing to do, regardless of what she wanted…
That was it, the crux of the issue. Anne had spent her entire life being smart and sensible, putting what she wanted to the side while prioritizing everyone else.
She sure as hell wasn’t going to do that now.
Anne dropped her bag on the floor, spun around, and flung open the door only to find Freddie staring back at her, mid-knock, his cheeks flushed with color after racing down the hall.
“Annie…” It was like how he used to say her name in those secret moments before, desperate and possessive. Like she was his.
The familiarity of it held her heart in a vise grip, refusing to let go until she arched up and kissed him.
He stilled, but only for a moment. Then a groan before he deepened the kiss, demanding, indulgent, and oh so familiar, as his hands slid under her sweatshirt to her bare skin.
Calloused fingers dug into her hips as he pulled her against him, and the rush of how many times he had done that before came back to her like a wave.
That’s right—her body had always fit so perfectly against his.
“Get inside,” she said against his lips. “Now.”
She could feel him smile, but he didn’t break their kiss as he started forward, pushing her back into the apartment, then kicking the door closed with his foot.
His mouth traveled down to her jaw, brushing a soft path down to her neck, then kissed and licked a long, slow trail from her throat up to her pulse point, the one that was so sensitive beneath her ear, and sucked.
She gasped, adrenaline shooting through her.
It was the same move he used to do once he found that spot, when they’d make out for hours around corners of the city, stealing every second they could with each other.
The memory, the feel, dissolved every thought from her mind.
All she could focus on was his mouth, his body, every point where they touched and every point where they should.
“Is Cricket home?” he asked between kisses. “Do we need—”
“No,” she cut him off. “Just. Bedroom. Go.”
A deep chuckle vibrated from him as he started forward again, this time past the tree and down the hall. She held tight to his arms as they wrapped around her, guiding her backward until finally her legs hit her mattress.
“Like this?” he murmured against her lips.
She nodded, staring into his eyes for a long moment.
“I want to take my time with you, Annie,” he said, his voice so low it was almost a growl. “But I also know I can’t hold back. Not right now. I…”
She sat up, cupping his hand in her jaw. That was the Freddie she knew, brimming with so much want and desire and love for her that he felt like he needed a disclaimer. Permission. So she gave it.
“I don’t want you to hold back,” she whispered.
He took a sharp intake of breath, and then his lips were on hers again, hard and demanding.
Suddenly her hands were clawing at his sweater, grabbing and stretching in a desperate attempt to get it off his body.
He leaned back just far enough to help, pulling it over his head in one swift motion, followed by his T-shirt, to reveal his bare chest. He had always been tall, but he had broadened in the past eight years, wide shoulders and muscled arms that caged her in over the mattress, held her in place as he pulled off her sweatshirt. Her bra. Her jeans. Her underwear.
Then he stared down at her, his gaze so searing she could feel it as he made a slow survey of her skin.
“I remember these freckles,” he said, tracing the cluster just below her left breast. “And that scar there.” His thumb came up to graze the thin, pale line across her hip from when she fell on the sidewalk when she was younger.
Then he shook his head, his green eyes finally coming up to meet hers.
“I never thought I’d get this view again. ”
She reached up, running a hand down his chest. She wanted to say the same thing.
How, even though his shoulders had broadened and his muscles had become more defined, it was still her Freddie there staring down at her.
But when she opened her mouth, all that escaped was a sigh as his hand came up to trace her lips.
Then he leaned forward, ghosting his mouth over hers.
It was gentle, tentative, and she wasn’t sure if this was who they were anymore, here in this foreign place between strangers and soulmates, but she also couldn’t fight it anymore.
So she reached up, threading her fingers into his hair, and simply stopped trying.