Page 38 of Ten Years and Then…
Nora sighed theatrically. “Yes, Ike. Miss Rachel knows. I think it’s eight in the morning in London if you’d like to call her to make sure. I’ve got the number.”
Ike shook his head, not meeting Nora’s eyes when he answered. “That’s quite all right, Miss Nora. I just have to check, you understand.”
She patted his arm. “I understand. I’ll tell my aunt you asked. And Happy New Year to you.” Ike opened the front door, and Daniel mumbled a Happy New Year greeting as well as they went inside.
It was a very well-kept building. Everything in the lobby gleamed. The elevator door opened without a sound. When they came out on the fourth floor, the carpets looked freshly vacuumed. He echoed his father’s question from a few days ago. “How does your aunt afford this place?”
“Rent control,” Nora answered, and now it made sense. “She could never live here otherwise. Anyway, here we are.” She stopped in front of apartment 406, turned to him and smiled. “I hope you didn’t come all this way just to make sure I got home safely. I’d be so disappointed.”
“I’m here because I want to be.” Just like she’d said that first night two months ago. And just as true.
She had the perfect answer. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than here with you.” She turned the key in the lock. “Well, not in the hallway. That would be weird.” But she kissed him out there anyway, as if she couldn’t wait the two seconds to get inside. He didn’t mind. How could he ever mind kissing her?
Nora, 2:15 in the morning
Nora let Daniel look around the apartment for a moment before she took her coat off. It seemed only fair to let him get his bearings before she distracted him.
He was looking at the photos on the living room wall—Rachel had pictures from every major European capital up there. “These are really good. Is your aunt a photographer, too?”
“Just amateur. She always tries to set aside a few hours for pictures when her company sends her out on trips. But is that really what you want to talk about right now?” She threw her coat onto the couch, and just like in the restaurant, Daniel went wide-eyed. “That’s better,” she told him. “Now, here’s the quick tour.” She pointed to the rooms in turn. “Kitchen. Bathroom. Living room, you’re in it. Rachel’s bedroom.” She took his hand, led him to the one door she hadn’t pointed at yet. “And, last but not least, guest room. My room. Our room for tonight.”
She pushed the door open with one hand, and he followed her in. “Look at that, I remembered to make the bed this morning.”
“Yesterday morning,” he said.
“Last year.”
“Yeah, that too,” he answered. Somehow she was in his arms; when had that happened? It didn’t matter, because that’s exactly where she wanted—needed—to be.
Daniel, 2:20 in the morning
They were sitting on the bed now.
“If this is our room tonight, is it our bed, too?”
Nora knew exactly what he meant. Not his bed, like in the dorm. Or the bed, like it could be any bed anywhere. “Yeah. Ours.” She kissed him, slowly, deeply. “I really like how that sounds. I like having things that are ours. I like being an us.” Another kiss, and then one more. “I was never an us before I met you.”
“I was.” But not like this. “This is different, though. It’s our us. Not something we were born into. Not something that happened by accident. We chose it. We found each other, and we made ourselves into an us.” He kissed her this time. “And it’s the best thing I’ve ever had.”
She’d unbuttoned his shirt. “For me, too. I never knew anything could feel this way. I never knew I could even be an us.” Her dress was—somewhere, he hadn’t seen where she’d thrown it.
It didn’t matter.
The only thing that mattered was that she was right here, in his arms, pressed up against him. No. There was no him or her in this room, this bed, this moment. There were only the two of them together.
Nora, the morning of January 1st
If it had been up to Nora, they’d have stayed in bed all morning. All day. Hell, all year.
But Rachel had been very clear. And just in case she tried to back out of their deal, her aunt had bought her a ticket to Providence, flying out of LaGuardia at two o’clock this afternoon. So she’d need to be on her way to the airport by noon at the latest. And while Daniel had said there was no specific time he was expected home, his parents—especially his father—surely wouldn’t be happy if he sauntered through the door in the middle of the afternoon.
“That reminds me,” she said, pouring coffee for the both of them. “You promised you’d tell me what your sister said to convince your father to let you come out last night.”
Daniel took a sip of coffee and a bite of toast before he answered. “I did, didn’t I?” More coffee, more toast, and no more words.
“You’re not really going to hold out on me, are you?”
He went a little bit red; he hadn’t done that in a while. But he finally spoke. “Okay. Dad knew I’d want to—we’d want to come back here after Times Square. And he didn’t like it.”
