Page 71 of A Novel Love Story

“No.”

“Why?”

He shrugged, polishing off his second taco. “You should try the hot sauce. It’s really great.”

I eyed it. The cartoony logo of Frank’s Hotties taunted me. “Nah, I’m good.”

“Just try a little.” He picked up the bottle and went to pour some on my taco.

“No! I don’t want to leak!” I batted the bottle away. “How dare you.”

He laughed, and we ate the rest of our meal, and chatted about our families. He told me about his parents, the accountant and the Pilates instructor, and how they’d retired to a cabin in the middle of the woods, where they raised chickens and a handful of very unruly goats, and they sounded like people my mom would have adored. I told him that she was divorced, never remarried, “And with her retirement, she decided to see the world. Meanwhile, I’ve never even been to New York City.”

That surprised him.“Never?”

“Never,” I confirmed. “It just seems so …big. Overwhelming. I’d probably have a panic attack right in the middle of Times Square.”

“Itispretty chaotic,” he agreed. “It’s nothing like Eloraton. In the city, everything moves so fast no one even notices you—not even when you’re gone. Here, it’s impossible not to be noticed. If you’re gone, everyone will know. It’s … refreshing,” he decided, though I had the feeling it wasn’t the word he wanted to use.

I tilted my head. “Is that why you stayed?”

“One of them,” he confirmed, and checked his watch. He wore it on the underside of his wrist, so the back of the watch face pressed against the soft inside. “If you’re finished, we better hurry.”

“I thought we were seeing the clock tower?”

He tossed our trash in the trash can. “Would I lie to you?”he asked, and walked backward out the front door, and I hurried after him, a smile tugging at the edges of my lips.

THE CLOCK TOWER WAS SO TALL WHEN YOU STOOD AT THEbase of it, like it stretched all the way into the evening sky. In the first book, Junie and Will snuck up to the top to see the town from the sky.Sometimes all you need is to see life from a different angle, Will, to make it look new again.

Anders nudged his head toward the maintenance door near the back of the building. “This way. We should hurry or we’ll miss it.”

“Miss what?”

He tapped his finger to his lips for quiet as he produced his keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. It was rusted, the hinges whining loudly as he forced it open. I turned on my cell phone flashlight, and followed him in. In reality, the clock tower was only five stories high, so the climb up to the top wasn’t hard, but in the dark it took longer than usual. There were lights in the stairwell, but Anders said that we needed to leave them off.

“Unless you would like the town to know someone is in here?” he asked, which just told me that we weren’t supposed to be here.

I gasped. “Anders, are wetrespassing? Did you make me commit acrime?”

I couldfeelhis eye roll as he said, “Oh yes, I made you. Watch your step,” he added as we reached the top, where the turret clock sat. There were four faces, each of them with a spindle to a gear in the middle. It turned tiredly. He inclined his head toward the metal ladder on the far side of the room, and I climbed up to where the bell rested. Out of the arches, I could see the entire town, unfurling across the valley like a storybook. It took my breath away.

He climbed up after me, and wrapped his arm gently around my waist to keep me steady.The wind was harsher up here, and it was so very,veryfar down, but he was solid and sure, so I wasn’t afraid.

“This is …” I couldn’t come up with the words.

“My favorite place in town,” he replied, and carefully we walked over to the edge of the bell tower. The sun was slowly sinking down between the rolling hills of the Catskills, purples and blues and pinks. “I’ve never been up here with anyone else.”

My heart fluttered. “No one?”

He shook his head. “But I thought you’d appreciate it.”

I glanced up at him as the setting sun made the harsh lines of his face softer, the blond of his hair more gold. This was a special place—meant for a grand romantic gesture. It was a place wasted on me.

I was stealing all his heroine’s moments, wasn’t I?

It was a sobering thought.

“This is such a lovely view,” I said, my heart twisting, “but you should’ve saved this for someone worth it.”

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