CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
RILEY
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We walk across Bow Bridge after spending hours walking around the gardens. I used an app to identify some of the plants I wasn’t familiar with and told him all about their origins.
I can tell he isn’t interested, but Colt seems to be amused by my joy.
And I am.
How could I not? I’m with the most handsome man in New York City and surrounded by beautiful plants.
I sigh out loud, happily.
“Happy?” he asks, popping a hip.
“So happy.” I reach up and kiss him, his mouth stealing more than I was offering. I love that he does that, his hand gripping my hip possessively.
I’m sure there are a hundred other places Colt would rather go, but he brought me here, and I feel like I’m in a fairytale.
Again.
Then, as if the universe is trying to drop a hint, a small wedding party arrives with their photographer on the other side of the bridge.
“Oh, look.”
Colt stiffens. “Happens all the time.”
“How beautiful. It’s the happiest day of their lives.”
He nods but turns to look across the water, the other way.
The Japanese bride glances up at her new husband, grinning widely, and he looks like the sun rises and falls with his new wife.
The photographer starts taking shots and directs them further onto the bridge where we stand.
“Let’s get out of their way.” Colt puts his hand on my back, looking eager to be away from the wedding party.
I frown, but don’t say anything.
“I love this place.” I loop my arm through his and find him still tense. He glances down at me, and I meet his bunched brows. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. New York is a hard place to live.” Colt guides me around some tourists. “It’s full of concrete.”
“I have eyes.” I point to the city that is ever present. “I’m just saying, this place is gorgeous.”
Moody man.
“Living with so many tourists must get exhausting, though.”
We have them in Melbourne, but Manhattan is one of the most popular tourist destinations in the world.
“I don’t know any different,” Colt says. “Want to go back to the cherry blossoms?”
He’s back.
Melting like an ice cone in summer.
“Yes.” I hug his arm, grateful because I may never see them again.
The Yoshino and Kwanzan cherry trees in New York are infamous. I can’t believe I didn’t think about them or this park. This visit happened quickly, I suppose.
“Then lunch. I’m starving. My body doesn’t know if its lunch or dinnertime yet.”
That gets his attention.
“Are you thirsty?”
Seeing Colt in jeans is a beautiful thing. He’s wearing blue denim and has paired it with a black cashmere sweater and shirt.
And coat.
He also has a small backpack with what appears to be a NYC survival kit, including water.
“Yes.”
He tugs it out and hands it to me. “Do you feel sick?”
I shake my head, opening the bottle. “No, I’m fine. I’m sure it was just the jetlag and medicine combined.”
“But you’ve had to take it twice. I’m fucking sorry, Riley.”
“It takes two to tango. Thank you for caring, I appreciate it.” I kiss him. “Plus, it was worth it.”
Colt pulls me closer and kisses me harder.
“Fuck, it felt incredible. I wish we didn’t have to use rubbers, but I won’t risk it.”
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AFTER DINNER, AND three orgasms later, we are snuggled up on the sofa watching a movie. Colt falls asleep, softly snoring. I’m reminded that he also flew across the world to see me just a few days ago. Both our systems are adjusting.
Today he took a few work calls but always steps away to take them. I want to see his world. I want to meet his friends, but instead, he’s playing tour guide.
I think he wants to keep me to himself.
I’m not complaining, but it would be nice to see inside his world.
His reaction to the wedding party on Bow Bridge was odd. I know he said his friend has all his money taken after marrying, but has that experience really turned him off committing to someone forever?
We never talk about this stuff.
Our dreams. Our goals.
Now that I’m here, in his home, living with him for the week, a lot of questions are arising. Questions I don’t know if I have a right to ask. Because we haven’t defined what this is, and I’m not sure asking would deliver me the answer I want.
Not after that response.
I message Mom, Kylie and Billie with a few photos from today, telling them I’m having fun. Then shoot Mark a separate one, explaining where I am.
We have a different relationship than I do with the girls.
Surprise I’m in New York.
What the hell? Why? When?
I’m home next week.
You need to do better than that, Riles. What’s going on?
Met a new friend. Just having fun.
...
...
I fall asleep before he replies, letting the phone fall onto the sofa.
Sometimes in the next hour or so, I feel Colt lift me up into his arms and carry me to bed.
I like this man way too much.
A problem for another day.
As I drift off to sleep, I hear, “Who the fuck is Mark?”