Page 16 of The Love Interest
I shake my head. “Connecticut.”
“Oh. Well, that’s not far.”
“Not in terms of distance. But anywhere outside of Manhattan feels far from Manhattan if you live here. You’ll know what I mean eventually. You like it here?”
“Of course I do! Does anyonenotlike it here?”
“I don’t know… I haven’t asked everyone yet.”
“Well, I can’t imagine anyone not loving New York. Especially when you’re here for the first time. It’s like meeting a soul mate, right?”
God. How can anyone be so young?
She’s right. I know exactly what she means. I want to ask her if she’s ever met a soul mate, but I also want to wait to hear what she’ll say next. Which is rare.
“I mean, there’s this sense of familiarity,” she continues. “Because we all know about New York. We’ve all seen the cityscape and the landmarks and practically every street, probably, in movies and TV shows and online. But then you actually get here and it’s…it’s even more than you ever thought it could be and it makes you feel likeyou’remore than you ever thought you could be. Right? Like a soul mate who helps you to become more of who you’re supposed to be.”
Goddammit. She’s a fucking romantic.
“I don’t know. I always felt so much bigger than my life, back in California. When I got here last week, I just… It’s like I felt my soul rising up to the surface to greet the city and everyone in it. You know? And I’ve felt more awake than I have in years. Literally. I can’t sleep because I’m so excited. It’s almost like being in love…I think.” She stares off into space, smiling wistfully, like she did when she had her notebook out in front of her.
She’s so fucking cute all of a sudden, it hurts.
“Almost.” That came out a lot more sarcastic than it was supposed to. “But yeah. I know exactly what you mean.” I barely remember how it feels. I want to though. For Jack, I mean.
She glances over at me quickly before veering left, onto a side street, and I follow her. She’s taller than Sophie was. In those heels, she could rest her head on my shoulder. Jack, who’s the same height as I am, could grab her hand, spin her to face him, and bring her in for a kiss with ease. Would his hand go to the small of her back? The back of her neck? Would he casually tilt her chin up with his finger after gazing into her eyes for just a second?
Difficult to say, just yet.
We walk in silence for about half a block, and then she takes a deep breath before asking, “How long haveyoubeen here?”
“Over a decade now.”
She nods and stops in front of a pre-war duplex.
Just as she says, “This is me,” I ask her, “What’s your name?” I didn’t mean to say it in the tone I would normally use to tell a woman to take off her clothes, but it happened, and now I have to stand behind it. I mean, Idoneed to get laid. And there isn’t anyone else I feel like seeing right now.
I fix her with a stare.
Her lips part and she’s trying to control her breathing, I think, and I like it. “Fiona…” She shifts her weight from one foot to the other and back again. “My name is Fiona.”
“Fiona. I like that. You look like a Fiona.”
She stares at me quizzically. I don’t blame her. I don’t quite get myself right now either. She gestures toward the apartment building and says, “Well…this is me. Thank you. For walking me home. I really do appreciate it.”
“Is this really where you live, Fiona?”
“No.”
“We passed your street a couple of blocks back, didn’t we?”
She shrugs, grinning.
“Still don’t trust me, huh? Good for you.”
“Just playing it safe.” She fiddles with the strap of her shoulder bag. The pink polish on her nails is chipping off a bit, because she’s always fiddling with things, I bet. Men’s hearts, probably. She’s pretty. She’s really pretty. The summer night air feels just a little bit warmer than it did on the way to the diner somehow, and it smells better too. Like vanilla and some kind of incense and nervous young woman scent.
I like it and I haven’t had enough of it yet. But she’s too young. She’s too…something. “Well, I should get home.”
