“It’s getting chilly.” Monica wrapped her arms around herself. “I should’ve brought a jacket.”
“Here.” Bridgette removed her own brown leather coat, which used to be her grandfather’s, and handed it to her. “It’s not cold to me yet.”
“No, I’m okay. You didn’t–”
“Just wear the damn thing.”
Monica laughed and replied, “Okay.” She took it from her and noted, “This looks old.”
“It’s not old. It’s vintage. It’s just not designer. Do you know what unfancy clothes are like?”
“Dad?” Monica asked as she held up the jacket before she slipped her arms into it.
“Grandpa,” Bridgette shared. “He left it to me when he died about five years ago.”
“Were you close?”
“Yeah,” she replied, leaving it at that.
“I love old leather,” Monica said. “It’s so soft and still smells like leather, you know?”
“Old leather is really the only leather I know. Is your couch at home made ofnewleather?”
“No.” Monica laughed a little. “It’s just regular fabric.”
“What color?”
“Gray. The whole place is gray, really.”
“Is gray your favorite color?”
“No, I hired a decorator and was pretty hands-off with the whole thing.”
“Your house? Why? You live there.”
“Not really. I spend more time at work than at home.”
“Gross,” Bridgette said.
“Don’t you love your job?”
“Yes, but it’s not my whole life. I’d never want that. I want tolivein the city, not just work here.”
“I guess I don’t really feel that way about home.”
“About New York City?” Bridgette turned to her then. “Isn’t it the greatest city on earth?”
“I’m sure it is, but I’m usually at the office or working from home. I have events and things I attend, but those could happenanywhere, really. When you grow up there, you don’t really see the beauty in it how others do.”
“I still see the beauty here.” Bridgette meant the city but also meant the woman she was staring at.
“I think that’s pretty amazing,” Monica said. “And it’s getting late.”
“Late? You’re in New Orleans.”
“For me, this is late,” Monica replied. “Well, not really, but I have some work to do back at the hotel.”
“You worked all day.”