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“So what do you want to do?” Gavin asked.
Haven’s brow furrowed. “Aren’t we doing it?”
“Well, we can just walk around if you want, but there’s more to do here.”
“Really? I thought it was just, you know . . .” She motioned all around them. “. . . trees.”
He laughed. “Not at all. Come on, I’ll show you.”
* * *
Statues, bridges, trails, wildlife . . . hours passed as Haven took it all in. They watched a puppet show and she swung on the playground swings before exploring the zoo and feeding the ducks on the lake. Gavin taught her how to play checkers and blatantly let her win, even buying her ice cream when they passed a vendor. There was music and games, laughter and excitement. She hummed along to the musical tower clock as they watched people toss a Frisbee and plant new trees.
Everywhere she looked there was something else, something new, something more, and little by little a part of her guard crumbled. The hurt she carried with her took a hit, hope and happiness resonating inside her again. The strong-willed girl, restrained and suspicious, didn’t even notice as her vulnerability showed, bits of the real Haven Antonelli shining through for once.
“Let’s get some food,” Gavin suggested. It was growing late, already close to dusk. “We haven’t eaten all day.”
“I had ice cream, remember?”
He laughed. “That doesn’t count. I know a nice place. We can grab some dinner and get you home, since you have school in the morning.”
“And you have work,” she said. “Do you have to get up super early?”
“No, I get up when I get up,” he said. “I make my own hours. Remember?”
“That’s right. Is your dad in construction, too?”
“Sort of,” he said, frowning as he looked at his watch. “My father’s got his hands in a bit of everything.”
They headed out of Central Park, catching the subway back to Twenty-third Street. Gavin sat beside her on the bench this time because there were far fewer riders at that hour than in the afternoon. They got off at their destination, walking about a block to a small restaurant. Long windows overtook the front of the brick building, and Haven could see quite a few tables inside.
They were seated along the side of the dining room at a table with two wooden chairs. Gavin ordered vegetable curry with spicy noodles without looking at the menu, while Haven picked a cheeseburger with fries. They were both quiet as they waited, sipping their drinks and resting their feet from walking so much.
It took ten minutes, maybe fifteen, before their food arrived. Within a matter of seconds, Gavin cleared his throat. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” she said, popping a fry into her mouth.
“What’s your deal?”
She stopped chewing. “What?”
“It’s just that, you know, you’re not like the usual people I deal with. There’s something different about you.”
And just like that, Haven’s guard crept right back up, the wall of disconnect rebuilding. Different wasn’t blending in. Different wasn’t staying out of the limelight. Different wasn’t a part of the plan. “How am I different?”
He shrugged. “You live in New York but you haven’t seen much. You’ve gone nowhere and done nothing.”
Haven had no idea how to respond. She swallowed harshly, her appetite gone. “I was born in a really small town and never got to go anywhere. There wasn’t really anywhere to go, anyway, even if I could. I only had my mama growing up, and she couldn’t take me places. My father . . . I never really had one of those, and then I lost my mama, and well . . . here I am, I guess.”
She stumbled over her words, cringing at her explanation. While true, technically, it was a lie by omission. A half-truth. It was all, she realized, she could ever give him.
“You have other family, right? Aunts? Uncles? Cousins?”
The question spurred an image in Haven’s mind of her last Christmas in Durante. Dominic. Tess. Dia. Celia and Corrado. Dr. DeMarco. Carmine. While technically not her relatives, they were the only other family she had ever known. “Yes, but I don’t talk to them much.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know.” That time, it was one hundred percent truth. “They all live far away.”
