Chapter 17
Chapter
The fact that Central Park is actually man-made is something I think most people often forget. It’s a park that puts most of the ones in Los Angeles to shame. Within it is a horizon full of skyscrapers and trees almost ninety feet tall displaying red, orange, and yellow leaves.
I would be lying to myself if I said this wasn’t the most quintessential autumn afternoon in New York City.
Kids are running around within feet of their parents, a couple jogs past us, and while there are plenty of people around, up ahead a vast field of grass makes you realize how big Manhattan reallyis.
It’s not just the park that’s making today feel special, it’s being here with Adam. His head lifts to the sky, the cool wind gently brushing his hair, and there’s a comfortable silence when we’re like this. We’re never trying, we just are.
“I forgot how beautiful Belvedere Castle is,” I say. The structure sits tall in a sweeping view of the city.
People pull out their phones, snapping shots and selfies, and I see Adam unlock his. “Here, I’ll take a photo of you.”
“Of me?” I laugh. “I’m not a tourist.”
“You kind of are,” he says.
“Fine, but you have to be in it too.” I turn so my back is facing the water, and he moves around to stand behind me, holding his phone out in front of us. “You take selfies without the front-facing camera?” I look up at him.
“It’s too much pressure seeing myself,” he says.
“A true twentieth-century man.”
“Do you want to take the photo?” He looks down.
“No, you do it—your arms are longer,” I say, and he positions himself behind me, slightly hunching so we’re both in view, or at least so I assume we’re both in view. In the time it takes for me to breathe, he’s already moved away. “Wait, you did it already?”
“Mhm.” He nods.
“How’s it look?” I ask, mildly intrigued that he doesn’t care how a photo of himself turned out.
He taps his screen and then shows me a selfie that honestly came out perfect.
We’re both in view while the castle is placed perfectly to the left of my head.
The only detail that’s concerning is how good we look together.
Adam and I have had our fair share of photos with each other throughout the years—most of them from Chloe’s digital camera that live on a private Facebook album.
But as I look at his phone now, it’s hard to deny we’d make a really attractive couple. “Oh,” I say. “It looks good.”
“Yeah.” He nods.
“Do you mind sending that to me?”
There’s a brief moment of hesitation, like that’s the last thing he was expecting me to say. “Sure.”
“Thanks,” I say.
“Have you thought more about the house?” he asks as we walk along the water.
Oh right, that little detail.
“I haven’t really,” I answer honestly. “Been focused more on the audition…Have you?”
“A little,” he says, and glances at the pond, the dark water rippling against the rocks.
“I’ve thought about what a difference it’ll all make,” I say. “Financially, you know?”
“Yeah.” He nods.
“I mean, it’s six million dollars. How crazy is that?” I laugh about the situation for the first time since hearing the news.
“Technically three,” he corrects, throwing my line back atme.
“Right, right,” I say. “Practically peanuts.”
“Barely anything these days.”
I smile at him, something I’ve been doing a lot today. But I can’t help it when he’s looking at me that way. Like he’s the only person who can really seeme.
“What are you going to do with it?” I ask.
“I was thinking about investing in another restaurant, but I don’t know.” He shrugs.
“What kind of restaurant would you open?”
“Everything Alden isn’t,” he says.
This whole time I’ve been focused on Adam’s accomplishments and how well-off he must be. It didn’t occur to me that this might not be it for him, that there’s more he wants out of life. Maybe we’ve been going down the same path this whole time without realizingit.
“I don’t think there’s a polite way to say this…” I look down the leaf-covered path.
“Say it.”
“But you own a restaurant,” I say, stating the obvious. “A good restaurant. Will the money from the house really make a dent?”
Adam shoves his hands a little deeper into his coat pockets. “I paid off my parents’ house, and Sarah’s college tuition.”
My chest tightens, and I tuck my memories far away.
“Oh,” I say softly.
“But what about you?” He turns to me. “What would you do with the money?”
“Get my own place,” I say almost too quickly.
“Oh?” Adam’s eyebrows rise. “Where are you living now?”
“I had a place of my own, but last year I moved in with some friends while things were unpredictable with work.”
“And are you…” Adam hesitates for a moment. “Seeing anyone?”
I don’t know why the question makes me nervous. Like the secrecy of my relationship status was some kind of leverage I had over him. But then I think about Kelsey and how he’s potentially in a relationship of his own.
“I was,” I answer. My last serious relationship was three years ago, and I don’t even want to think about the laundry list of deadbeats I’ve been on dates with since then.
Adam doesn’t bother to ask for any details, he just nods as we continue to walk. Which I’m a little thankful for.
“Can I ask you a question?” I spin to face him. “Why were you okay with us living together?”
“Which time?”
“Seriously,” I press as we continue to walk along the path. “You could have stayed at your own place. Was being in a brownstone that important?”
He takes a beat before answering and then looks at me. “It’s different for me, June.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I mean, I don’t hate you,” he says.
Is that what he thinks? That I didn’t want to do this because I hate him?
“Adam,” I say. “I don’t hate you.”
“You literally ran away from me the day we met with Mara,” he says.
I knew he was eventually going to throw that in my face.
“I didn’t run away, ” I say, and he stops walking. “Okay, fine, I did run away…but that’s not why.”
“Then why?”
“I asked you first, Adam,” I say. “Don’t change the subject.”
“I’m not.” He exhales. “I just—”
“Then why did you want to stay at the house?” I press. “Was the commute really that bad? You didn’t want to be comfortable in your own home?”
“Perry is home,” Adam says intently, and it knocks the wind out of me. “And I’ve always been most comfortable with you. Maybe I thought you’d feel the same way.”
He looks as gutted as I feel, and I know I’ve hurt him somehow.
You can’t spend six years with someone and not know these things.
Maybe this is our chance to talk about the past. I’ve had endless nights to think about how this conversation could go.
I’ve rehearsed dialogue in the shower, written unsent emails, but I’m still not sure how to do it.
We could so easily open this door and air our dirty laundry, but I’m not ready for this conversation. Not yet.
“ Excuse me, ” a woman with a southern accent who’s clearly a tourist (based on her backpack and I NY gift bag) interrupts us.
“Would you mind taking a picture of us?” She points to her group of friends behind her, and three out of the five are wearing shirts that match the gift bag in her hand.
My gaze quickly shifts back to Adam, who’s going to have to wait for a proper response. Thank God.
“Yes, of course!” I say a little too brightly, taking a step closer. She hands me a phone and I follow her toward the group of women. They all huddle together and smile in front of the water. “Okay, everyone say I LOVE NEW YORK !”
“ I LOVE NEW YORK !” they repeat, and start laughing.
I take about forty-five different photos from various angles. I ask them to pose, make funny faces, jump in the air—that one in particular takes a good three minutes—and they’re ecstatic.
“Thank you so much!” says the woman who initially asked for the photo. “This is our first time in New York.”
“No kidding!” I act surprised.
“I know! Can you believe it? We’re having dinner in Times Square and seeing The Lion King tonight,” she says, like she’s just told me they have tickets to see the Beatles.
“Oh, wow! Have the best time,” I call out to the group of women behind her, and hand back her phone.
“Thank you again,” she says, and squeezes my hand. “What was your name, dear?”
“June,” I say, smiling. “And you?”
“Susan,” she says. “Well, June. Thank you, and you have yourself a good afternoon.”
“No problem! Have a good rest of your trip, Susan,” I say, and wave at her and the rest of the ladies as they leave. Turning around, I see Adam sitting on a bench a few feet away on his phone. “Okay, all done!”
“Do you think they have enough photos?” he asks, not trying to hide his sarcasm.
“Look, I just wanted those women to have memories from their trip!” I say. “Did you know this is Susan’s first time in the city?”
“I don’t know who Susan is,” he says flatly.
“The one with the New York shirt.” I look down at him and he just blinks. “Come on, let’s keep walking.”
“June, I know what you’re doing.”
“I’m not doing anything!” I say as innocently as I can.
“Does that voice really work on anyone?”
I turn to face him and start walking backward. “You tell me.”
Adam lets out a big exhale and standsup.
“I mean, we have to go on,” Adam says.
We’re standing in front of the famous carousel.
It’s that golden-hour time of day when the sunlight illuminates the red bricks surrounding the fixed attraction.
Getting in line might be the cheesiest thing we do all day, but that bridge was crossed when we ordered seasonal drinks and decided to walk around Central Park.
“Obviously,” I say.
We follow the formation, and there’s a couple a few feet ahead of us who can’t be older than nineteen, kissing… really kissing. I turn to Adam and give him my most uncomfortable face. He looks at me, confused, but then clocks the heavy make-out session happening a few feet away.