Chapter 30 #3
I lean back as we drive toward Central Park, the buildings stretching taller and taller until we reach 57th Street, Billionaires’ Row.
Tourists crowd the sidewalks, cameras pointed skyward, trying to capture the impossible scale of it all.
“Want to get dropped off at the start of the park and walk?” Nate asks. “It’ll probably be a thirty-minute walk. Longer if Skye stops to sniff everything.”
“Yeah,” I reply. “Let’s go for a step-count record.”
Suddenly, my stomach twists unpleasantly.
“What’s wrong?” Nate straightens, instantly alert. “Is it your stomach again?”
“No,” I lie. “I’m fine.”
He studies me. “Don’t lie to me. We can come back another day.”
“Absolutely not. I told you, I’m fine. I don’t get sick.”
He doesn’t argue, but his concern lingers.
“Sir,” he says to the driver. “Change of plans. Please drop us near the 85th Street entrance on 5th.”
“Of course, Mr. Davenport.”
“I’m—”
“You’re not fine,” he cuts in gently. “We’ll visit Camila, then straight home. End of discussion. If you caught what Claud had, you’ll want to be in bed.”
Ugh, I hate that he’s probably right.
We watched Claud the other night when Juliette and Harrison went to a doctor’s appointment, and she slept over. We were supposed to bring her to school in the morning, but that never happened.
She was sick as a dog all night.
Twenty-four bug, apparently.
I have too much work to be sick, so I’m praying I’m just getting my period early and that these stomach cramps aren’t from a bug.
Traffic is light, so we’re on the other side of the park in no time.
The second we begin making our way to Gilded Run, the path to Camila’s memorial stone, Skye becomes determined to sniff every single footprint pressed into the dirt.
“She must smell all the other dogs.”
“Or Romeo and Juliet.”
I furrow my brow. “Huh?”
“Our resident coyotes,” he explains. “Romeo and Juliet.”
I step closer to him, scanning the trees.
Nate laughs, and I slap his chest. “Don’t joke with me.”
“I’m serious. They’ve lived here for years. You’re acting like they’re going to jump out and attack us.”
“They could,” I whisper, panic blooming. “What if they attack Skye? Is this safe?”
He doesn’t answer. He just slips his hand into mine, squeezing gently.
“We’re here,” he says.
And suddenly, everything else fades away.
My stomach drops, and I go quiet, taking in our surroundings.
A path stretches ahead, paved with hexagon-shaped stones, each etched with inscriptions. It leads toward a small wooden bridge, one I know opens onto the breathtaking reservoir beyond.
We’re tucked beneath tall trees and thick green foliage, muffling the city around us. Ahead, a pair of benches overlooks the path, and Nate guides us toward them.
“Dad wanted to make sure we had somewhere to sit with her,” he says softly. “They donated this bench, too.”
He helps me sit, then drops to one knee, gently brushing away a few stray leaves from a stone near my feet. It’s tucked just far enough off the path to feel private.
Camila Rosa Morales
She loved fiercely, laughed freely, and gave her whole heart. Her legacy will continue forever in those who loved her most, especially in her daughter, Claudina.
The moment I read the last line, my chest splits open. A sob escapes before I can stop it.
Nate is instantly there, pulling me into his arms, holding me steady while the wave passes through me.
I slip off my glasses to wipe my eyes, fumbling for composure, and then something comes over me. I sink down beside her memorial, settling onto the ground.
Skye curls into my lap as if she understands exactly what I need.
I trace the engraved words with the tip of my finger, reading them again. And again.
She has always lived in our hearts. She always will.
“I miss you, friend,” I whisper.
Nate stays on the bench, rubbing slow, reassuring circles into my back, giving me the space to feel without rushing me through it.
“You okay, Mads?” he asks gently.
I nod. “More than I thought I’d be.” I let out a quiet breath. “I knew I’d cry, but…”
“But?”
“I don’t know.” I glance around, taking in the trees, the quiet, the way the light filters through the leaves. “I feel…connected to her here. Settled. Maybe it’s the nature. Who knows?”
Eventually, he helps me up, and I sit next to him and rest against his shoulder.
“I wish I came more,” he murmurs.
I lift my head, surprised. “I thought you did.”
“I used to. But then Harrison made it complicated.” He hesitates, choosing his words.
“When Claud got older, they started coming here a lot. Sometimes every day.” He gestures ahead.
“They live close, so it’s easy for them.
And they don’t just come to sit, they treat it like a shrine.
Claud talks to her. Dances for her. I didn’t understand it.
I didn’t think building that kind of connection to a stone in the ground was…
healthy.” I stay quiet, listening. “The other brothers agreed with me, Harrison didn’t, obviously.
But now…now I think I was wrong. As long as Claud feels close to Camila, that’s what matters. ”
“You’re right,” I say softly. “And I love that Juliette helps keep Camila’s spirit alive, too.”
“I think it’s because of Jules that I see it differently.” He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket. “Speaking of keeping her spirit alive…I got you something.”
He places a long, blue velvet box in my hands. I recognized the jeweler’s name instantly. The one we passed earlier in the West Village.
My stomach flips.
A jeweler, with pieces priced exorbitantly high.
There was a small, gold pinky ring that cost twelve thousand dollars, so I can only imagine whatever is in this box costs a fortune.
“Why are you buying me jewelry?” I wince, realizing how that sounded. “Not that I’m ungrateful, but you already give me too much. You know I don’t need expensive things.”
“Appease me, please.” He smiles, tapping the box.
I open it slowly, like something’s going to pop out and bite me.
When I see what’s inside, my breath catches, and my hand flies to my throat.
“Nate,” I whisper, blinking hard.
“Turn around,” he says quietly. “Let me put it on you.”
I hold the box for one more moment, taking it in. Not just how beautiful it is, but what it means.
He lifts the necklace out, brushes my hair gently off my shoulder, and clasps the chain at the back of my neck. My eyes follow the movement until the pendant settles against my chest.
A diamond butterfly.
I dig through my bag and hand him my compact, catching my reflection.
The chain is delicate, and the butterfly is small and elegant, encrusted with diamonds, yet somehow still understated.
It’s nothing loud or excessive.
It’s perfect, and so beyond meaningful.
I look up at him, holding his gaze. “I love you. And I love this.” My voice wobbles. “Thank you.”
I squeeze his arm, wishing my gratitude could be felt.
“Love you too, Goddess,” he says softly. “I know you admire my tattoo and its meaning, so I wanted to give you your own butterfly and thought this would be the perfect place to do it.”
I scoot closer on the bench and run my fingers through his hair, studying him. He’s smiling the kind of smile that tells me his heart is just as full as mine.
We sit there quietly for a few more minutes, until the path begins to fill and the moment is lost.
When we stand, I glance back at the stone one last time, smiling softly.
I’ll be back soon, next time with Claud.
I promise.