Page 29 of Pining for You

I wave again, this time a little bigger, and manage to whack someone walking past in the process.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry!” I shout when I turn to find a woman who must be in her seventies, clutching a purse that’s bigger than her with a tiny white dog in it, scowling at me.

“Watch what you’re doing!” she shouts.

“I’m really so sorry,” I say, grateful I’m not holding a hot beverage this time.

“You could have killed Rufus!”

“I… uh…”

I mean, accusing me of attempted canine homicide feels a tad hyperbolic, but she walks away, muttering, “Tourists!”

“Wow, B. You’re in rare form this weekend,” Cash says, laughing.

“Haven’t you assailed enough strangers for one weekend?” Izaac asks when they reach us, following the woman with his gaze.

“I dunno,” Diya says. “The last one turned out pretty well. Maybe she’ll make a good backup for your first kiss.”

“Har har,” I say.

“What have you to report?” Cash asks them.

“Well, it looks like all the return times are the same as online,” Izaac says.

“We’ll just have to keep an eye on it in case there are any preemptive changes for the storm,” Diya adds.

“Do you think Cooper will cancel tomorrow if the weather is really that bad?” Izaac asks.

“Not snow, nor sleet, nor dark of night!” Cash imitates old man Cooper.

“That’s actually pretty good,” I tell him, and he gives me a grin, which warms my heart. I still have questions, but having a few minutes together definitely was a re-Cash-ification of my spirit. I resolve to make sure we have a lot more together in the new year.

“Did you guys clean them out of doughnuts?” Diya asks.

“No,” I say. “We were very grown-up and restrained.”

Cash looks proud.

“On that note, we were discussing the very grown-up subject of Cash’s birthday. Has he been blowing you off about it, too?” I ask Izaac, because I don’t want to accuse him of dropping the ball, but I also don’t want to drop the subject.

Izaac gives Cash a look I can’t quite parse. Why must couples have their own secret wordless language?

“I’m not blowing you off, I’m simply taking a more mature stance about my advancing age,” Cash says to me before Izaac can respond, pronouncing “mature” as ma-tour, then continuing with a wistful tone. “Y’all will understand someday when you’re on the cusp of adulthood—one of life’s great turning points.”

“Okay, so the train should take thirty-eight minutes,” Izaac announces, abruptly changing the subject. “Which means we need to get the next one.”

“So specific,” I say.

“Trains are all about precision,” Diya affirms.

“Amazing what humans can do,” I say. “Okay, in the interest of the schedule, I’m putting this birthday discussion on the proverbial shelf for now.” I mime picking up the issue like it’s a squirming mouse dangling by its tail, then placing it on his imaginary shelf. “But we’re coming back to it.”

Cash gives a little head snap, and we start making our way through Grand Central to the subway. That will take us to Eve’s bakery.

And as we descend into the subway station, I think about what Cash just said, and a shiver runs through me, catching me off guard. I look around once more at the bustling station, then back to my friends. If we were in a movie, this would be a cusp moment—a turning point—and things would be about to change forever.

8