Chapter 14
Central Park was another part of the city that I had learned about from movies. I would gaze at couples taking winding carriage rides through the trees or dancing around Bethesda Fountain, and dream about someday strolling the paths in a chic coat as golden leaves drifted gently down around me.
It wasn’t until I actually got there and wandered around for hours that I gained a real understanding of how vast it truly is.
And confusing—I still got lost unless I stuck to the paths along the edges.
I’d done my research, though, and at Dash’s insistence we’d taken a couple of hours to go over the map and drop pins on the locations we wanted to film in.
The original plan had been for Chase to join us in his first appearance as Lord Loving, since he was back in town for a couple of days before returning to his research trip.
We’d had to pivot when he told us that he was in the thick of writing his dissertation and he’d finally been able to schedule a meeting with his advisor, who was apparently as hard to find as a good Adam Sandler romcom.
(Don’t hate me because I have opinions.) Which meant that Dash and I were flying solo that day.
The humidity was almost worse than Florida’s, though maybe that was just because back home I mostly went from one air-conditioned space to another and I traveled in my car, instead of walking for blocks under the punishing sun.
By the time we reached Columbus Circle, we were both covered in a thin sheen of perspiration. Never fear, though—Dash looked as gorgeous as usual. If anything, the combination of the walk and the sun had put an extra glow on his face.
I wanted to be careful about not getting people in the background of the videos—mostly for their privacy, though obviously I also wanted to avoid breaking the illusion of the Duke as someone who did not exist in our time.
There is no such thing as a quiet, empty part of Central Park, which is pretty wild considering how big it is, but we made things work.
One of the cameras in Dash’s stash had a tracking feature that kind of followed him around as he moved. It also kept the image steady enough that I was able to get a series of smooth shots as he mounted one of the horses we’d booked ahead of time and promised to take the wallflower on an adventure.
If I’d thought that Dash was athletic while watching him run from a mob of Lady Cerulean?obsessed tourists, it was nothing compared to seeing him on horseback.
Not that he could do much more than urge it up and down the bridle path under the supervision of an assigned guide, while I shot clip after clip from the ground.
“How the fuck do you know how to ride like that?” I asked when he paused for a drink of water.
“We had the best riding instructors at the Harding estate, of course,” he said, handing back the water bottle with a wink before using his knees to nudge the horse forward at a quick walk.
Somewhere behind us, I heard someone make a whimpering noise.
Before we moved on to the rowboats, I took a few moments to check our stats.
I’d gotten used to doing that multiple times an hour, and by now it was second nature.
The hit of validation every time I saw our follower count rising made my heart flip.
Every comment and like was like someone whispering in my ear, Maybe you’re not such a fuckup after all.
With every notification, I felt the knots inside me begin to unravel.
For so long, it had felt like I was on a boat in the middle of the ocean, paddling furiously and unceasingly and not getting anywhere.
And in that moment, it was as if I had just caught a glimpse of shore.
It was one thing knowing that our follower count was exploding and our comment section was popping off. This?
This made my heart lift so high it felt like I was soaring over the East River again. Only instead of it just being Dash and me, we’d brought all these other people along on the ride.
I almost drifted instead of walked to the Boathouse.
I wasn’t so busy manning the camera that I didn’t notice Dash’s forearms as he maneuvered us through the water.
Sweating for real now, he’d taken off his jacket and cravat and rolled up his sleeves, and I took a moment to shoot a close-up of his forearms before panning back to his face and the thick locks flopping boyishly over his forehead.
“What?” he asked as I looked at him over the camera’s lens.
“Nothing, it’s just… you’re so good at what you do. Tilt your head up slightly. A little to the right. It’s a pleasure to watch—competence porn.”
His face took on a wicked cast. “Oh yeah? Well, I could say the same thing about you.” He dropped his voice, giving it the slightest of rasps.
“I haven’t been able to stop watching you all day.
Do you know how hot you look when you’re running around, telling me what to do?
Or how much it makes me want to press you against a tree trunk and—”
I squeezed my thighs together. “Dashwood. Are you using your leading man voice on me?”
“Is it working?”
“You know damn well it is. Talk about competence porn.” I huffed, torn between cracking up at the eagerness in his eyes and disregarding the fact that we were in full view of at least a few dozen people and launching myself across the rowboat. “I swear, you could get me off with just your voice.”
Dash opened his mouth again and I pointed at him, saying severely, “Don’t you dare.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled and he sat back, turning his face to the sun and letting the boat drift. “This reminds me of a game I used to play with myself as a kid.”
“Sounds alarming, but continue.” I took one last picture, then lowered both the camera and his phone and tucked them into Dash’s backpack for safekeeping, lest I do an actual flail and fling them both into the water.
“I called it snapshot moments. It started out as a way of making myself feel better when my parents were arguing too much. The few times when things were actually good, and they were trying to get along for my sake, I would pretend like I was taking a snapshot.”
He shrugged, still looking up. I followed his gaze.
Afternoon sunlight shone through the leaves and glinted off the icy-blue glass of the skyscrapers peeking above the trees.
It was more than cinematic—it was the kind of beautiful that made your heart squeeze inside your chest. Kind of like Dash himself.
“It was really nothing more than looking very attentively around me and trying to remember all the details. I tried to draw these moments a couple of times, but I could never quite capture the feel of them.”
I knew exactly what he meant.
“This feels like a snapshot moment,” he said, lifting his head so that he could look at me. “Being here, with you.”
I resisted the effort to turn it into a joke. It took a superhuman effort, but I did it. What I couldn’t do was reply in the way that Dash clearly wanted me to. Not yet. Limiting myself to a smile, I brushed my fingers along his outstretched calves, the only part of him I could easily reach.
But Dash wasn’t letting me off the hook that easily. “Do you have any snapshot moments?”
And then I did have to shrug. “If I do, they’re probably all dirty pictures. Can’t you row any faster? We need to get to Belvedere Castle before we lose the light.”
Dash looked like he wanted to press back. Like he was more than considering it. He went as far as opening his mouth, but I beat him to it.
“Look, I’m sorry,” I said. “But is it okay if we get the filming done first? I really wanna be able to pay my rent next month.”
Maybe he could see the genuine anxiety tightening the skin around my eyes, because he nodded and began pulling us toward shore. Of course, I was actually hoping that he’d forget all about it by the time we got all our work done.
It was another couple of hours before I was satisfied with the number of clips we’d gotten and deemed us worthy of a break. As well as content for our socials, we’d laid down the first of the clues for the treasure hunt that would eventually conclude with a party at Second Chance.
As I splashed half the contents of my Hydro Flask on my face, Dash fished a fresh T-shirt out of his backpack. And just like that, he was no longer the Duke of Harding. He was Dash, beautiful and sunny and real.
“I’m starving,” I announced, running down my mental list of places I liked getting takeout from. “You want Thai or pizza?”
“Neither.” Dash hefted up his backpack. “I packed us a picnic. And I know the perfect spot for it—come on.”
Suddenly, he was the one who was all impatience as he led me down a path.
He pushed back a leafy branch and I ducked through the opening he’d made, straightening up to find myself at the edge of a large body of water.
It wasn’t the Turtle Pond, which we’d seen from Belvedere Castle, or even the Reservoir.
Turning to ask Dash about it, I was amused to find him spreading a checkered blanket on the ground, complete with a battery-operated candle and a plastic vase with a flower that was miraculously uncrushed after hours in his backpack.
I put my hands on my hips. “Dashwood, did you lure me into a date under false pretenses?”
“Can you really call it luring when you came willingly?” he asked, looking pleased with himself. “And can you call a meal false pretenses?”
I collapsed onto the blanket. “I will if you don’t feed me soon.”
“Can you try not to die until you’ve tasted all the stuff I made? I spent all morning slaving over a hot stove for you.”
“You what?” I sat up and looked at all the lidded containers he had piled on the blanket. “What the hell, Dashwood? Did you have your valet pack you a hamper?”
He grinned, and began naming the dishes he’d made. Figs in some kind of puff pastry. A farro salad. Heirloom tomato focaccia. Homemade hummus. He’d even made Indonesian cheese cookies and chocolate chip ones. It was a literal feast.