“But we’re in Grand Central,” he said, his brows still quizzical, face perplexed.
“I know. I couldn’t find you, so I’m on my way home. But here you are.” We stood there for a second, still. “Wait,” I said, something dawning on me. “‘Ma’am’？ Do I look that old?”
He laughed, as if he couldn’t believe what I was saying. “I was trying to be polite—you startled me.”
“How do you think I feel? I was minding my business eating when you came on a TV in the bagel shop!”
It was then that I realized his hand was still on my arm, and so I stepped closer to him, desperate to breathe him in.
“Franny,” he said, cupping my face with his free hand. “Do you want to go back and finish your bagel?”
His mouth shifted into a playful smirk, and I smacked him in the shoulder and then let my hand move slowly down his chest. “No, you jerk. I just want to be here, with you.”
He smiled at this, and then his long arms were around me, pressing me into him, warm and steady, his chin resting atop my head. I reached my arms around him and held on.
“I like your jacket,” I muttered into his chest. “Gucci?” I joked.
“No, something new. Birch and Fole.”
It didn’t ring a bell. “What’s that?” I asked, pulling away to look at him.
“A sustainable and gender-inclusive clothing company focusing on ethical practices,” he said, planting a kiss on the top of my head. “I thought it sounded cool.”
“Wow, I never thought I’d see the day you weren’t in some bespoke designer suit.
“Well, I met this woman”—Hayes’s voice was soft and low—“and I’m trying to impress her.”
“I bet she likes you no matter what you wear,” I said, tilting my head up to smile at him.
“Well, that’s good, because she’s going to be seeing a lot of him, and he mostly likes to wear old sweats from college.”
“What if she likes him best when he’s naked?” I asked, enjoying this game we were playing.
“I think they can work something out,” he said with a nod of his head.
“Good,” I said.
I reached a hand to his face and rubbed my thumb against the soft stubble of his cheek. He leaned forward and kissed me softly, letting his teeth graze the edge of my lips.
“Hayes,” I murmured as I shifted to kiss his face, then his neck.
“Yeah?” He slid his arms back around my waist.
I pulled back and looked at him. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Franny.”
“What do we do now?” I asked.
“I don’t have any plans,” he said, reaching for and finding my hand, giving it a squeeze. “Are you headed back to Brooklyn?” Hayes asked, his eyes studying me.
I nodded. “Will you come with me?” I said. “Is that weird to ask?”
He shook his head, his face so serious it melted my heart. “It’s not weird at all.”
We walked down the steps to the subway, swiping our MetroCards through the turnstile. “A very sweet old man gave me his MetroCard this morning so I could come find you,” I said as I put it back in my pocket. “Maybe it’s my good-luck charm.”
The platform was quiet, the weekend rush yet to pick up. Nearby, a few people milled about, peeking down the tracks waiting for the train. In the distance, a saxophone wailed. It was New York in its purest form, unassuming and peaceful and wide-awake.
“I’ve replayed the moment we met so many times,” he said, his thumb making small circles on the top of my hand. “I would have acted differently if I could go back and do it again.”
“Like how?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“I would have introduced myself, for starters,” he said. “I thought you were so pretty.”
“I thought you were”—I shrugged, made a bored face—“just okay. But I did give you the nickname Hot Suit behind your back.”
He laughed and pulled me close to him, nipping me playfully on the neck. “I’ve missed you so much,” he said, lips pressed against my skin.
“I know I told you last night,” I replied, “but I’ll say it again: I’m sorry I pulled away, and I’m sorry I stopped talking to you.”
He leaned back and lifted a hand to my chin, tilting my head so our eyes met. “But you didn’t. I found your note in my pocket, after things ended between us. It was exactly what I needed to hear from you, at the exact right time.”