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“A few hours.”

“You haven’t given it a chance.” Alex began walking down a winding path, the park’s famous pond to their left.

Mark sped up and tucked the water bottle under his arm. He lifted his cap. His hair fell past his eyes, reaching his nose. He swept it back, hiding it away again under his hat.

“So you’re saying I didn’t see the best of New York, camped out outside that theatre?”

“You camped out waiting for me…on that hot sidewalk?”

“Yeah.” He winced. “For two and a half hours. Sorry if that sounds stalky, I didn’t want to miss you. Simon was great, but he wouldn’t give me the address of where you’re staying. Shit, listen to me—that sounds even more stalkerish.” His ramble took a break for another large gulp of water. “This is more like it.” His eyebrows lifted approvingly as he took in the mature trees and green grass along the path. “It’s amazing how the street noise is muted. It reminds me of St. Stephen’s Green in Dublin—only massive. So…how are you?”

“I’m good. Thanks.”

“Freddie said Thirteen is going ahead off-Broadway. Alex, that’s so incredible. I’m so happ—”

“Thanks.” Alex stopped and crossed her arms. “Why are you here?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Mark, I know about New Year’s. Really, you should have just FaceTimed from set—”

“Lex, I know you know about New Year’s. That’s not why I’m here, and I wasn’t on set. I came from Dublin.” His hand squeezed the water bottle. “I dropped out of Full Throttle 3 two weeks back.”

“What?”

“Turns out it was an offer I had to refuse.” He smirked.

“A million-dollar refusal? Must have hurt.”

“You know I don’t care about the money, and you were right…the Full Throttle script was absolute fucking shite.”

“I never said it was shite.” She nudged her sunglasses up her nose.

“You didn’t have to—the look on your face at the Court did.”

“So, if you’re not doing Full Throttle 3, what are you doing?”

“Figuring stuff out.” He swallowed heavily, playing with the sunglasses hanging from his collar. “Look, there’s something I have to tell you…”

Alex inhaled deeply. Was this the truth Niamh said Mark owed her, so they could move on? Knowing Mark, if she sent him away, he would wait patiently for another opportunity. She didn’t want him sitting outside 59E59 again.

“Okay…follow me.”

She led Mark to a secluded bench with a view of Gapstow Bridge and the pond. Several pairs of Mallard ducks quacked and playfully wiggled their tail feathers in the murky water while tourists sought shade and ice cream.

Mark sat down heavily and rested his backpack on the ground. His left foot stepped on top of his right, which fidgeted underneath. He half-smiled at Alex and looked away, opening and closing the cap on his water bottle several times.

“After the truth about New Year’s came out, I needed time to think, somewhere away from London. Staying with Mum made sense. I was still attached to Throttle, so I hired a trainer there to continue my prep. I sought proper help for my stomach ulcer, too.”

“Stomach ulcer? Since when?”

His eyes found Alex again. “Since October. I was diagnosed in Austria before Tom’s wedding.”

“Seriously? You’ve had it that long?”

“Yeah. It wasn’t always bad, but when it flared, I would slink away to the loo, hide in a stall, gritting my teeth until my pain meds kicked in.”

An ulcer, not drugs…an ULCER. Another one of my assumptions—wrong!“Mark, you should have told me.”