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Sitting on a bench in the middle of Central Park, I’d become so wrapped up in my own head that I didn’t notice an old man sitting to my right until he said something.
“Boy, you must have gotten yourself into some serious shit.”
I turned to him. “Why do you say that?”
The guy had bushy eyebrows and was holding on to a cane. He gestured to a woman sitting across from us on another bench.
“That looker over there has been eyeing you for a full ten minutes, and you haven’t noticed her once. You must be preoccupied.”
I sighed. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”
“It must be a lady. Only a woman you’re hung up on could keep you from noticing that one over there.”
Nodding, I chuckled. “You’re right.”
“Feel like unloading on an old geezer?” He leaned in. “Maybe I can help?”
While I doubted the guy could offer me any solid advice, I took the opportunity to vent to a stranger who couldn’t judge me. I proceeded to tell him everything over the next twenty minutes.
It turned out his name was Sherman. He’d lived in Manhattan all his life and had never been married. He shared a story with me about the one who got away—a woman who’d been traveling through the city some forty years ago. They’d had a whirlwind romance for two weeks before she left to go back to Norway. In those days, there was no Internet or any easy way to keep in touch. So he lost track of her and always regretted not fighting harder to make things work.
He had a lot to say about my situation. “By the time you come to your senses, sometimes it’s too late. Now, I’m not telling you to do wrong by your friend. But it doesn’t sound to me like this guy knows exactly what he wants, either. I get you not wanting to betray him. It’s not my place to tell you what to do one way or the other. But in the end, you fell for this woman without realizing who she was, not even knowing her name. You can’t help that you fell, and you didn’t do anything wrong. But the most important thing here is not what you or he wants. The question is…what does she want? Do you know?”
If only it were possible to figure out what Hazel was really thinking.
“I thought I had the answer to that before I came here. I would’ve bet all my money that she would have met me in New Orleans. So, seeing her with him really shocked me. And now I can honestly say I don’t know what she wants.”
He pointed with his cane. “Here’s the thing. If you want to be with her, and she wants to be with you—well, that’s two out of three. I get that your friend would be hurt, but it wouldn’t be fair to him if the woman he claims to care about really wants to be with his friend, either. People can’t change how they feel. I think you need to figure out what she wants and take it from there.”
It was simple advice, but it made sense. If Hazel intended to stay with Brady, he’d never have to know anything. If she wanted to be with me, then and only then would I have a decision to make. Concluding that it all came down to what Hazel wanted seemed to clarify the situation.
“You know what? You’ve been really helpful.” I hopped up.
He laughed, seeming amused by my sudden realization and need to flee.
“You take care of yourself, Sherman. Thanks for the talk.”
I pulled out my phone as I rushed away and texted the number Hazel had given me.Matteo: Where are you?The three dots moved around as she typed.Hazel: Hey. Just finishing up a shoot.Matteo: Can we meet?Hazel: Yeah. Of course.Matteo: I can come to you.Hazel: That would be great.Matteo: I need to be sure Brady won’t see us. Where is he?Hazel: He’s working late tonight. He told me he has a business dinner. So, if you come to Connecticut, we should be good. You can meet me here at the studio.Matteo: Text me the address. I’ll hop a train now.• • •Hazel’s studio was on Main Street in a quiet suburb. Surrounded by local boutiques and restaurants, it was definitely in a prime location.
She opened the door before I even made it to the steps. She’d been watching for me.
Without saying anything, she pulled me into her arms. It surprised me, but it felt so damn good to hug her again. The feel of her soft breasts pressed against my chest further ignited the turmoil inside of me. I wished so badly that we were back in Atlanta, taking up where we’d left off before reality hit us like a ton of bricks.
