Page 84 of My Secret Snowflake
Sebastian and Rupert stay outside holding Sebastian’s bicycle while Lily and I go inside. About six people are smooshed into the space in front of the counter, and with us, no more can fit inside. We find our place in the line, next to a wooden shelf counter that intersects the window.
Outside, Rupert is clapping Sebastian on the back, and Sebastian is blushing. I smile.
Lily nudges me with her shoulder.
“I’m so happy for you,” Lily says. “I was wondering last night when you guys disappeared so quickly off the dance floor. I thought you two would hit it off. I’m counting this as a matchmaking win for me.”
I blush. “Last night was pretty magical.”
Lily grins. “Sebastian also looks really happy. I wasn’t expecting him to look quite so delighted to not be single. This couldn’t have all just happened last night?”
“There’s been an ongoing flirtation for a few weeks—because we see each other at the office.”
“That’s good. What did you think of Melody? She’s cool, right? I just don’t understand how she could choose Wim over Sebastian.”
“That’s exactly it,” I say. “What if she realizes her fiancé is a jerk and decides she wants Sebastian back? Won’t Sebastian return to her? He’s been in love with her for years.”
“I don’t think he’s that kind of guy,” Lily says.
“Well, I don’t want him to stay with me out of some misplaced loyalty either. That’s even worse.”
We move a few spaces up and stand by the glass counter. Behind the counter, bakers in blue smocks are sliding large trays of cookies into tall metal racks on wheels. Another baker is measuring scoops of cookie dough to put on a sheet pan.
“He must be over her. He looks at you like he really likes you,” Lily says. “I don’t think he’s still in love with her.”
We give our orders to the server. Mine is always chocolate chip walnut, but Lily also orders a chocolate-chocolate chip for her dad.
“Does your dad like Rupert?” I ask.
“He loves him,” Lily says. “Their first meeting went really well, and tonight our families are getting together. I think my dad will really like his family too. I think he was worried they wouldn’t be very down-to-earth, but his parents are. And his grandfather is a treat, even if we don’t always agree.”
As we jog up the steps, Tessa and Zeke arrive with the bicycle and helmet for me. Since they were on their way out, they figured they would bring it over.
“We need a girls’ night with ice cream to celebrate,” Tessa says to me.
“Yes,” I say.
TheHudsonRiverisa dark blue today. Sebastian and I cycle single file on the bike path under the steel columns that hold the highway above us and then down the Hudson Greenway. The breeze is cold, but I warm up quickly as I pedal. Sebastian suggests I stay behind him so he shields me from the wind off the Hudson.
Wooden posts stand in the water, the remains of what used to be a pier—now perfect perches for seagulls.
Sebastian looks back and smiles at me.
Piers with parks pop up every once in a while. We pass a Department of Sanitation outpost with sand outside and then Little Island and some more developed piers. When the road widens, we bike side by side. It feels good to be outside, enjoying the view of the water and the fresh air.
And it feels good to be with Sebastian. I want to pinch myself—to assure myself that this is real and that last night really happened. And now we’re spending the day together. It feels both too easy and too exhilarating—like I want to just sit in my room, grab my pillow, and jump up and down that this is happening—but a small frisson of fear wavers underneath. Am I falling too fast? Does he really feel the same way? Did we just decide to do a “fling” but not say that openly? What if Melody does realize her mistake?
Ican’tgo through that kind of heartache again.
Farther south, we encounter a pier I think is new. It seems like I should have seen it before, but there’s been so much development along this trail that maybe I missed it. But it’s all improvements, so it’s good to embrace the new, even if it means feeling like parts of New York City which should be familiar are not.
I have to trust Sebastian.
I don’t even think it’s possible for me to hold back my feelings. They’re overflowing like the Hudson at high tide during a severe rainstorm.
We turn left at Clarkson Street, cross the West Side Highway at the intersection, and ride down a cobble-stoned street away from the river and into the West Village. We follow the green bike lane of Bleeker Street as it meanders through the narrow streets, curving every once in a while.Small colorful shops with picturesque fronts dot the street.
We pass by the NYU campus buildings, their purple flags waving in the air, clearly proclaiming school pride. Chinatown is next. Then Bleeker Street ends abruptly at Bowery, an open and wide two-way thoroughfare. We stop in front of a colorful mural of Blondie, part of a street art project, covering the entire front of a building. There’s her iconic pose in a white dress, her arms akimbo, in front of the guys all dressed in black suits. We dismount and walk our bicycles down to East Houston then turn to stroll a few blocks over to Katz’s Delicatessen. A line of people waiting to eat winds down the street.
