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I close the laptop. Atlas lifts his head. "I'm going to New York."

His tail hits the floor once. I reach down and scratch behind his ears. "Yeah."

For the first time in two and a half months, I'm going to see Maddy.

And I'm done wasting time.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Javier

By eight thirty Friday night, I've been in New York for almost twelve hours. I've walked more blocks than I intended, had coffee that cost twice what Betty charges, and learned that nobody here waits for the light to change before crossing the street. I also haven't called Maddy.

My reservation is at eight forty-five. I arrive ten minutes early.

The restaurant is on a corner, warm light spilling through tall windows onto the sidewalk. There's no empty table I can see from outside. Good.

I stand across the street for a moment. This is hers. I've seen pictures. I've heard about the expansion, the new dining room, the private space, the kitchen she fought to make six feet wider. Pictures didn't do it justice. The place is beautiful. Not showy. Warm. The kind of restaurant that makes you want to stay after the plates are cleared.

Through the window, I see Maddy. Everything else disappears.

She's standing beside a table, listening to an older couple. Her hair is pulled back. She's wearing black pants and a white chef's coat with the sleeves pushed to her elbows. She laughs at something the woman says. I haven't seen that laugh in almost three months. My chest hurts.

Then a man approaches her. Julian. I've seen pictures. He says something. Maddy rolls her eyes, takes the plate he's holding, and points him toward another table. He goes. No argument. I smile. So that's Julian. They move around each other easily. Not romantically. Like people who have worked side by side long enough to know what the other needs before it's said.

I understand something then that photographs couldn't show me. This isn't simply Maddy's job. She built a life here.

I cross the street.

The hostess smiles when I give her my name. "Of course, Mr. Martinez. Right this way."

I asked for the quietest table available. She takes me to one near the back, partially hidden by a tall divider and a plant large enough to have its own zip code. Perfect.

"Your server will be right with you."

"Thank you."

I sit. For the next hour and a half, I let myself experience Maddy's world. I order wine, then dinner. The waiter recommends something I wouldn't have chosen myself. He's right. The food is exceptional. Not good because Maddy made it. Not good because I'm in love with her. Exceptional. Every plate feels considered without trying too hard. I recognize some of her in it. The confidence. The balance. The small surprise that arrives when you think you know exactly what something is going to taste like.

At one point, Maddy comes into the dining room. I lower my head and reach for my wine. Ridiculous. I flew to New York to see the woman. Now I'm hiding behind a glass of cabernet. But I'm not ready yet. I want to watch her here.

She stops at one table, then another. She knows some of the guests by name. Julian joins her near the bar. They look toward the kitchen, have a brief conversation, then split in opposite directions. They're good together. I think about the farm. About Jack knowing when I'm about to do something stupid before I do it. About years of working beside someone until cooperation becomes instinct. That's what Maddy and Julian have. I'm glad she has him. More than that, I'm proud of her. Of this. Of everything she built before I ever walked into her life.

I came to New York prepared to tell her I could travel. That we could figure this out. That I would never ask her to give up what she worked for. Sitting here, those words feel different. Because now I understand what I'd be asking her to balance.

The waiter clears my plate. "Can I interest you in dessert?"

"Yes."

"Any preference?"

"Whatever the chef recommends."

He smiles. "Excellent choice."

A few minutes later, he returns with something involving chocolate, espresso, and enough restraint to keep it from being too sweet. I take one bite. Then another. I close my eyes. Damn.

The waiter comes back near ten thirty. "How was everything?"