Page 192 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 1

Worry crosses my mom’s face. “Hope it’s not a problem. I just thought it would be one of the few ways I’d get to see you.”

I tap her hand. “It’s not a problem, but I would have picked you up from the airport or sent a car.”

“I got here just fine. Thank you though.”

“I’m glad you’re staying there. It’s better than a hotel. I get concerts late at night, and the night’s special wafting through the vents.”

She looks at Juni. “I must be tired because I’m not sure what he means.”

Giving her forearm a gentle pat, Juni says, “Andrew has annoying neighbors.” I catch the use of Andrew. She’s definitely mad. “Lucky for him, they’re in the loop and know better than to bother him.”

By the bewilderment seen in the scrunch of her brow, I’m thinking my mom won’t touch that one, but then she says, “That’s too bad.”

The car pulls to the curb, and I help the ladies out. Mike is already at the door with his hand ready to pull. “Nice evening?” he asks.

“Fine,” I reply.

“Dandy,” Juni adds.

My mom says, “That’s such a handsome-looking uniform. Have you thought about adding a star right?—”

“Mom?” I stop inside the lobby.

She looks up and then enters the building. “Sorry. I’m coming. Have a good night, Mike.”

He tips his head for her. “You too, Mrs. Christiansen.”

In the elevator, I push the button for my floor. As if it couldn’t get more awkward, my mom asks, “Are you sleeping over, Juni?”

“Mom, please.”

“Geez, Andrew. I’m just wondering if I should set the table for two or three for breakfast.”

I want to hide. So embarrassing.

Juni reaches across the front of us and punches the sixteenth floor while giving me the evil eye. “No. I’m staying at mine. I’m the annoying neighbor.”

By how my mom takes a step back, so we’re not standing in a line, I’m thinking she’d like to disappear about now. When I look back, she’s now very busy digging through her purse.

The floor dings, and Juni takes a step forward. “It was nice to meet you, Cookie.”

“You too, dear. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I get a half-assed backward glance. Just before the door closes, I say, “Good night.”

“What did you do?” The accusation comes hard off her tongue, making me feel twelve again.

“Me?Why do you think . . . Fine, I fucked up.”

The elevator opens on my floor, and we don’t take two steps before she says, “Then why are you here and not there making this right?”

“Good question.” I step back inside the elevator and punch the button. “I’ll be back later.”

“Don’t rush home on my account and stop with the F-bombs. Love you.”

“Love you.” The door closes and reopens one flight down.

I knock, but there’s no answer. I feel like we’re repeating the same pattern. I could sit here for an hour or more, or I could go look for her. I take the stairs and check my floor. When I don’t see her or hear any talking inside my apartment, I take the elevator to the lobby. “Hey Mike, have you seen Juni?”

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