Page 60 of The Love Hack

The tannoy announcement jerked me away from my laptop screen. I’d promised myself that I wouldn't work during the flight, to make the most of my first solo long-haul travel experience, but it hadn’t turned out that way. Wired from the stress of navigating the airport on my own; being asked to take my Docs off to go through security, which meant undoing all the laces and took ages, with an impatient, tutting queue building up behind me; then panicking on at least five separate occasions that I’d somehow lost my passport, I’d been a bundle of stress by the time I boarded the plane.

That stress had only been compounded when I thought of all the work I had to get through. Of course, I was in New York to see my sister, attempt to discover the truth about what was going on with Zack (if it was Zack) and hopefully resolve things between them, one way or the other. But I still had my job to think about. The backlog of emails that had gone unanswered over the past couple of days, because the only one I’d been able to think about was from Anonymous, Citizen of Nowhere. The need to prove to Greg that I could do this. The challenge of turning the answers GenBot 2.0 produced into something that sounded like advice Adam (or I) would give.

I’d necked two gin and tonics, devoured a soggy hummus and carrot wrap, then stared at my screen until I’d fallen asleep, only to wake in a panic an hour before landing and stare at it some more.

To be fair, I hadn’t slept much the previous night. After work, Ross and I had gone for coffee, which had turned into a glass of wine, which had turned into a shared olive and nduja pizza and a bottle of wine.

While we ate and drank, he’d downloaded some of his extensive knowledge of New York City, and tried to commit as much of it as possible to memory, notes on my phone and five pages of scribbles in a spiral-bound notebook.

‘I mean,’ he’d said, leaning across the table, his elbows on either side of his pizza plate, ‘I know you’re going out there for a reason, and an important one at that. But you’ll have five days there, right? You may as well make the most of it.’

‘I don’t know if I’ll have five days,’ I objected. ‘My first priority is to find out if there’s anything actually going on with Zack and this ex-girlfriend of his. Then I’ll need to see Amelie, and either tell her or not tell her – I’m not sure yet. But if it turns out he is cheating on her, and I decide I do need to tell her, she might want to come straight home with me.’

Which is why I’d freaked out about having to spend a fortune on a flexible return ticket. Fortunately, Ross turned out to be a seasoned traveller and knew all the tricks for getting the cheapest deal possible, otherwise my plan might have been scuppered before it had even begun.

‘But you’ll still have to eat and drink, right?’ he’d argued. ‘There’s just so much. Salt beef bagels at Katz’s, the Chelsea food market, the street food – and cocktails. Go on, Lucy – you’ve got to go to the Campbell Apartment have a dry martini, just for me.’

‘The what?’ Pushing my pizza aside, I’d scribbled in my notebook. I wanted to show willing – let Ross see that I was paying attention to his proposed itinerary – but the truth was, I couldn’t imagine myself going to a food market, never mind a swanky cocktail bar, on my own.

‘Campbell Apartment. It’s in Grand Central Station. It’s – but I won’t spoil it, you’ll see it for yourself. And you can see the Empire State Building, and Central Park, and go shopping at Macy’s and Bloomingdale’s.’ He hesitated, then added, ‘And visit Ground Zero, obviously.’

I’d nodded, scribbling again in my notepad, then Ross shyly produced his phone and showed me a link to an app where he’d marked all his suggestions on a map for me, with little notes about why they were so cool. Fascinated as always by new technology, I downloaded it and exclaimed over it a bit, thanking him over and over.

But I still wasn’t sure I’d want to pay a visit to the scene of that long-ago tragedy, however historically significant it was. And given the stress the flight and the relatively affordable AirBnB (illegal in New York, Ross had explained, but everyone did it anyway) I’d booked would place on my finances, I couldn’t imagine myself doing any kind of massive department store haul. But I could browse, I supposed, if I had time, and get a present to bring back to thank Ross for his help.

I took a gulp of wine and, to my surprise, heard myself say, ‘I wish you were coming with me.’

He laughed, but there was something forced about it. Too far, Lucy! My mind warned me.

‘Yeah, I’d be a great tour guide,’ he said. ‘But like you say, you’re there for a reason. So you’ll need to get from Brooklyn to Wall Street, if you’re going to go full gumshoe on this Zack. Let me show you how the subway trip works.’

He took out his phone again, and I shuffled my stool around so I could see the screen. Patiently, he explained the journey step by step, telling me how to pay on the subway (once he’d explained that that was what the Tube was called), and reassuring me that it was perfectly safe, even if I was travelling alone late at night.

‘And remember, you can Facetime me any time you like,’ he said. ‘It’s a big city, but it’s just as easy to get around as London. You’ll have a ball.’

I wondered whether talking about New York somehow brought his own background to the surface. But there was no time to ask him to say it again, or teach me more phrases that would make me sound less like a limey (if Americans even called British people that any more), because our waitress was hovering to see if we wanted more drinks or the bill.

‘Let me get this,’ I said. ‘Please. It’s the least I can do. And now I guess it’s my turn to show you stuff.’

‘Right,’ he agreed. ‘Astro 101? Let’s go.’

Letting him into my flat was the weirdest thing. Apart from my dad and the plumber I’d had to get round one time when my kitchen tap sprung a leak, and the estate agent when I’d first moved in, I’d never been alone with a man in there before. It felt weird – but also not weird, because the man was Ross.

When he heard my key in the door, Astro came running, eager for his dinner. I reintroduced them, and Ross squatted down and scratched Astro behind the ears the way he liked, and I let him give him his food to cement their relationship. Then I showed him where everything was, apologised for the fact that he’d have to scoop the litter tray out twice a day, and demonstrated my cat’s favourite pouncing game with his yellow mouse with the feathery tail.

And then I handed him my spare keys and said, ‘I guess that’s everything. Sorry, I don’t think there’s an app for cat-sitting.’

‘I guess I’ll manage without one. Uh… Good luck then, Lucy. And bon voyage.’

‘Thank you. For looking after Astro and – you know – everything.’

‘Keep in touch, all right?’

‘Of course.’

I opened the door and we stood there for a second, me on the inside and Ross on the outside and Astro kind of snaking between our legs. I thought, Is he going to hug me? Is he? Then I remembered his awkwardness over the unsolicited physical contact at the escape room, and I realised I was going to have to take the initiative – either that, or go unhugged.

So I raised my arms and spread them out, and Ross stepped in and wrapped his arms round me, and we stood there for a moment, our bodies almost but not quite touching.

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