The choir she could understand, but window displays? And why did it not seem out of character that he’d want to do something like that?
“Let’s do it,” she agreed, forcing herself not to roll her eyes. “I’m not sure how much I’ll be able to walk, though. I feel a little wobbly.”
“Great,” he said, beaming. “And we’ll travel by cab or Uber whenever we have to, okay?”
“One question,” she said. “How do you know a choir will be performing today?”
“I did some research this morning.”
“Why do I get the sense you’re trying to make this Christmas special for me?”
When his eyes flickered with sadness, she knew he didn’t have to explain.
*
After finishing their teas, they stepped outside into the chilly air and Maggie felt a sharp pain deep in her chest, one that continued to flare with every heartbeat. It was blinding white—knives, not needles—worse than ever. She froze, closing her eyes and pressing hard with a fist, right below her breast. With her free hand, she gripped Mark’s arm and his eyes went wide.
“Are you okay?”
She tried to breathe steadily, the pain continuing to flash and burn. She felt Mark’s arm wrap around her. “It hurts,” she rasped out.
“Do you need to go back inside and sit? Or should I take you home?”
With clenched teeth, she shook her head. The thought of moving at all seemed impossible and she concentrated on her breathing. She didn’t know if that would do any good, but it was what Gwen had told her to do when she was suffering through the agony of labor. After the longest minute of her life, the pain finally began to fade, a flare slowly dying out as it sank to the horizon.
“I’m okay,” she finally croaked, even though her vision seemed to be swimming.
“You don’t seem okay,” he countered. “You’re shaking.”
“Pac-Man,” she muttered. She took a few more breaths before finally lowering her hand. Moving slowly, she reached into her bag and pulled out her prescription bottle. She tapped another pill free and dry-swallowed it. She squeezed her eyes shut until she was able to breathe normally again, the pain finally receding to a bearable level.
“Does this happen a lot?”
“More than it used to. It’s becoming more frequent.”
“I thought you were going to pass out.”
“Impossible,” she said. “That would be too easy, since then I wouldn’t feel the pain.”
“You shouldn’t make jokes,” he chided. “I was just about to call for an ambulance.”
Hearing his tone, she forced a smile. “Really. I’m okay now.”
A lie, she thought, but who’s counting?
“Maybe I should take you home.”
“I want to see the windows and listen to the carols.”
Which, oddly, was the truth, even if it was kind of silly. If she didn’t go now, she knew she never would. Mark seemed to be trying to read her.
“Okay,” he finally said. “But if it happens again, I’m bringing you home.”
She nodded, knowing he might need to.
*
They rode first to Bloomingdale’s, then over to Barneys, then to Fifth Avenue, where every store seemed to be trying to outdo the next with its window decorations. She saw Santa and his elves, polar bears and penguins with holiday-themed collars, artificial snow in rainbow colors, elaborate installations highlighting selected apparel or items that probably cost a fortune.
By Fifth Avenue, she’d begun to feel better, even a little floaty. No wonder people got addicted to the pills; they actually worked. She clung to Mark’s arm as people swarmed past them in both directions, carrying bags bearing the labels of every brand on the planet. Many of the stores had long lines of people waiting to enter, last-minute shoppers hoping for the perfect gift, none of whom appeared happy in the slightest to be standing in the cold.
Tourists, she thought, shaking her head. People who wanted to go home and say things like You wouldn’t believe how crowded it was or I had to wait an hour just to go inside the store, like it was a badge of honor or act of courage. No doubt they would tell that same story for years to come.
And yet she found the stroll curiously pleasant, maybe because of the floatiness, but mostly because Mark was so clearly gobsmacked. Though he kept a firm grip on her hand, he was constantly straining to see over the shoulders of the crowds, eyes widening at the sight of Santa crafting a Piaget watch, or smiling in delight at oversize reindeer decked out in Chanel harnesses, all of them wearing Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses. She was used to grimacing at the crass commercialization of the holiday, but observing Mark’s sense of wonder made her regard the stores’ creativity with new appreciation.