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It's the middle of a work day. Downtown is packed with a mix of business types in suits and tech types in hoodies, jeans, and canvas shoes. I try to cut through the crowd but people don't part the way they do in New York. They stare at their phones, bumping into me or shooting me dirty looks.
Then Ethan's arm is around my waist and he's leading me through the crowded street. I should object to his arm out of principle, but it makes me feel warm and safe.
I move closer, until I can smell his soap. It's the hotel soap, the same one I used. And under that, it's Ethan. I can't explain it but the smell of him is familiar.
I get lost in the proximity of his body until we arrive. We're in a small, clean park sandwiched between skyscrapers. It's an oasis in the middle of the city.
The restaurant isn't quite in the park. It's a level higher, outside a convention hall.
It's a small place with a quaint vibe. The walls, tables, and chairs are shades of bronze and copper.
We take seats at a corner table. Ethan glances at his menu then he sets it down. He has that look on his face—he already knows what he wants. Still, he waits patiently as I take my time poring over the menu.
"Are you happy you're in grad school?" he asks.
I stare back at him curiously. "You really want to know?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
"Because… when I told you I was going, you…" I bite my lip. "You asked me to choose between you and grad school."
His eyes turn down. "That's not how it went."
What the hell is he talking about? Maybe, technically, I left Ethan, but he didn't give me a choice.
I spent our entire relationship supporting him. Hell, I was practically his sidekick. Then the second I wanted something that wasn't easy for him, he pushed me away.
Even through clenched teeth, my voice is irritated. "How did it go?"
He stares through me. "That doesn't matter anymore."
Of course it does.
I stare back at Ethan. His blue eyes give nothing away. I have no idea what he's thinking, but he looks sincere.
He really believes what he's saying.
My lips are dry. I wet them with my tongue, but that only makes my mouth feel drier.
Was our relationship that meaningless to him?
I don't know what to think here.
I hold his gaze. "It matters to me."
His expression gets intense. "It's not gonna be a quick conversation. Let's table it. I want to know your life, Vi. I'm glad you're doing well. Are you doing well?"
"Yeah." I slide my fingers over the menu. It's coated with slick plastic. How can he suggest we table the conversation? He must not think much of my feelings. "I love New York City."
"Even the weather?" He raises a brow.
"No. I hate rain. And snow. And w
ind. And humidity." I chew on my bottom lip. I want to have a nice lunch with Ethan. Maybe it is better to move on from the subject of our breakup. We're stuck together for nine days. "We have two weeks in the fall where the weather is perfect."
"I miss the sunshine when I'm away." He looks into my eyes. "I'm glad school is good."
"Really?" I raise a brow.
