Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Rhett
The cozy restaurant and warm candle lit atmosphere fade behind us almost instantly as Pippa and I step back into the street. It is replaced by the sharp energy of New York in the early afternoon, the noises of honking cars and distant construction.
“Do you think they believed we’re in a real relationship?” Pippa asks.
“Yeah. They believed it … and they loved it.”
She smiles, pleased. “Well, I loved them. You’re very lucky. They’re lovely people.”
“Yes, I know I am.”
She looks shamefaced all of a sudden. “We shouldn’t have fooled them as we did, should we?”
I sigh. “No. I guess not.”
“Maybe, they’ll get what they wish for soon, and you’ll find a girl to marry and have kids with so they can have the grandchildren they’re craving for.”
“Do you want to go to the Empire State Building?” I ask, tilting my head toward the iconic spire rising above the skyline.
Pippa’s eyes light up, like she is a child and I’ve just suggested a trip to an all-you-can-eat ice cream bar.
“Yes. Absolutely. It’s so iconic. I want the full tourist experience. All the way to the top, no shortcuts.”
“You got it,” I say. “Front row view, tourist tickets, the whole thing. We’ll even do the silly posed photos if you want to.”
She laughs, a sound that’s easy, bright, and warm. “Oh, I want the silly photos. Definitely. But you’ll be taking most of them, obviously, since I have now decided to upgrade you to playing the part of the brooding hero.”
My eyebrows rise. “When did you decide that?”
“When I saw the scowling baby photos,” she says with a laugh.
“I’m glad those photos were finally put to good use then.”
We weave through midtown, slipping past street performers, hot dog carts, and the occasional tourist pausing in the middle of the sidewalk to stare at a map on their cell phone.
“Wow,” she enthuses, “look at the way the Empire State Building gleams in the sun and grows larger with every step. How tall. Almost impossibly tall. That spire is Art Deco, isn’t it?”
“Yup,’ I say, stepping into the queue. The line to enter is long and swarming with tourists all craning their necks upward.
Pippa nudges me as we inch forward. “We’re going to need snacks, right? It’s a commitment, this whole skyscraper thing. I vote for a pretzel.”
“A pretzel is a solid choice,” I agree, scanning the vendor carts along the path. “Salted or cinnamon?”
“Salted,” she says decisively. “We’re going to the top, and that means we need sustenance for maximum sightseeing energy.”
Warm doughy scent fills my nostrils as I return to the queue, where we munch on them as we approach the security check. Once inside, we take the elevators up, the walls gleaming and ornate, polished to a mirror-like shine. Pippa presses a hand against the brass panels, her eyes wide.
“Wow. This is glamorous.”
“Glamorous and crowded,” I warn her. “I don’t want to be a killjoy, but keep a hold on your purse.”
“I’ll hold it. Don’t worry. But you? You look way too relaxed. It makes me think you’re up to something. What are you up to?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Me? I’m innocent. Completely.”
We step out onto the observation deck, and the view from up here is breathtaking.
Manhattan sprawls beneath us, the rivers gleaming like strands of silver ribbon, the streets tiny as threads, the city humming like a living thing.
Pippa’s eyes go wide, and her jaw drops slightly, a cute reaction that makes my chest tighten.
“It’s wow,” she murmurs. “It’s just everything, all at once.”
I lean closer, my elbow brushing hers. “Glad you stayed?”
She looks at me, a little grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Yeah. It was worth it to tolerate your company for a bit longer.”
“Ouch,” I say, mock offended. “That hurt.”
Her laugh carries across the wind, and I gaze at her, mesmerized.
The city noise fades into nothing, and it’s just her and me and the endless grid below.
She’s taking in the view, leaning slightly on the railing, her hair whipping in the breeze despite her efforts to control it with a hair tie.
For a second, I allow myself to imagine, fleetingly, how easy it could be. How it could all work out.
We walk the perimeter, while she takes selfies of herself against the skyline. She pretends to hold the spire, leaning like she’s about to fall, her arms stretched wide as if she’s embracing the city. I click away until she finally puts her cell phone back in her purse and turns to me.
Her eyes meet mine for just a second, and something flickers there. I see genuine warmth, and maybe a flash of hope, and then a shutter comes over them.
“Best part of the Empire State Building?” I ask, as we head back down.
She tilts her head, thinking. “The view, obviously. But the part I liked the most? Was that you planned it. You made it feel fun. As if you really cared.”
I glance at her, surprised by the sincerity in her words. I expect her to fire a joke of some kind my way instead. “You’re pleased about that?”
“Yeah,” she says, smiling. Then she tilts her head playfully. “And also, I feel happy that I passed the test with your parents at lunch. Although I do feel a bit guilty about it. They were so nice, and they seemed really happy for you, and all of that time, we were just … pretending.”
I grin. “You know what you should do?” I crook my finger at her and lower my voice conspiratorially. She leans in, eyes wide. “You should forget about George. Be with me. Make my parents happy.”
For a second, I see something in her eyes, surprise, a flicker of thought, a spark. Wild hope. Then she laughs, a musical sound. “Oh, really? That’s the masterplan, is it? Marry me for your parents’ sake?”
“It’s purely practical,” I say, mock seriously.
She wants to visit a small gallery nearby, one of those tucked-away spaces filled with the work of local artists and quirky installations. Pippa is drawn to a sculpture of intertwined metal threads. She runs her fingers lightly along the cool curves.
“This feels like something you could have in your house,” she says, tilting her head towards the piece. “It’s a little chaotic but strangely beautiful.”
“Like us,” I say, before I even think about it.
She looks at me, one eyebrow raised. “Like us?”
“Chaotic but strangely beautiful. Yeah. How would you describe us?”
“Unexpected with a scent of danger.”
I smile. “That too, we’re just coming to the dangerous part.”
She blushes suddenly. One of those full-on numbers that makes me stare in fascination.
Outside, the streets are busy. We weave through the throngs of people, taking small detours past street performers, little shops, and stop at a hot dog cart.
By the time the sun starts to dip, painting the sky in pinks and golds, we’re sitting on a low wall near Bryant Park, eating hot dogs.
Her shoulder brushes mine, and I can feel the warmth of her in a way that’s dizzying.
“You know,” she says softly, biting into the hot dog. “This … this has been a really great day. Better than I imagined.”
I glance at her, my cock stirring with desire. “So, we’re even then? The London tour for the New York tour?”
“I think we are. But you can’t show me other things and win the tour award.”
Oh, I plan to win, alright. And not just the tour award. “Game on,” I say softly.
Her eyes flick to mine, and I see it again, that tiny spark, that glimmer of hope, the thought that maybe, just maybe, this could work.
The city lights begin to blink on, casting their glow over the park.
The day has been perfect. The sightseeing, the laughs, a little bit of mischief, and so many moments that feel like they belong to just the two of us.
And I know, deep down, that I wouldn’t trade this afternoon for anything. For the first time in a long time, I feel like maybe, just maybe, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.