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She helps me walk over to the vanity, and I take a seat. I blow out my hair with a round brush. I’m not going to put makeup on because there’s no point. I don’t know where we’re going, so there’s no reason to get fancy.
The truth is, we really can’t go anywhere since, technically, I’m still on the mend.
Everything hurts, but I still want to get dressed.
Trent is probably just going to bring the food into my bedroom, but that’s okay. At least I won’t be alone.
An hour later, I’m sitting on the edge of my bed, my ankle and ribs wrapped, with leggings and a T-shirt on.
The door opens. Trent strolls in, handsome in the same outfit as before, and he stops to look me over.
“You might be cold. Let me grab you a jacket.”
Cold? Where are we going?
I don’t ask any questions, though. Instead, I wait for him to get me one and come back.
“Let’s go.” He hands me the jacket. “Do you want to go the fast way or the slow way?”
“Obviously, the fast way.” I playfully roll my eyes, and he picks me up again. “You seem to like picking me up a lot.”
This close, I can smell his cologne. Fresh and crisp. It reminds me of nature. Intoxicating. A warm fall day. A walk in the park. Whatever the scent, I wanted to immerse myself in it and get lost.
“This is the fast way,” he points out.
“I wouldn’t have said that if I knew that this was the fast way.”
“Shh.” He tightens his grip on me. “Be quiet.”
I close my mouth, and I let him take me for a ride. I expect us to go to the garage, but instead, he heads toward another door, one I have never opened. It’s skinnier than the rest, so I always assumed it was a closet.
He presses a button hidden slightly behind a floral arrangement. It dings a moment later, and the door slides open.
My mouth drops. “You have an elevator.”
“Yep.”
“I didn’t know.” I stare at him, heart pounding at the proximity. “Why didn’t you just use the elevator instead of carrying me up yesterday?”
“That wouldn’t have been as much fun.”
I shake my head at him.
He steps inside with me still in his arms, turning sideways so we can fit through the opening without my ankle banging against anything. As soon as the door closes, the elevator starts moving.
In a flash, it feels like we’ve stopped again.
The elevator door opens, and I expect to be in another room on another floor, but instead, the New York City air hits my face.
It’s an outside patio.
“Is this yours?”
“Yes.”
“Wow.”
If I thought that was “wow,” I gasp when I see what he has actually created.
After a few steps out of the elevator, I see not only the New York City skyline and all the buildings higher and lower but also the picnic he set up.
Correction: Picnic 2.0.
There’s a canopy with woven lights. Underneath, a blanket is spread out in the middle with a basket settled on top, too. Since I can’t sit on the floor, Trent even set up little reclining chairs.
Trent Aldridge went all out.
There’s even an outdoor space heater.
He thought of everything.
Of me.
He lowers me to the chair, and then he sits in front of me on the ground.
“Ready to see what we’ve got?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
At my words, he opens the basket and starts to pull out French baguettes, a cheese platter, pastries, champagne, and strawberries.
It’s like a date.
Is that what this is?
40
Trent
* * *
I may have gone over the top . . .
The roof deck of my building is fully decorated.
It’s straight out of a romantic movie, with whimsical decorations and flowers, but instead of this being in the park, I built all of this on the top of my loft.
I googled how to build a canopy with the materials I had on hand, for fuck’s sake.
This is one hundred percent too much.
It’s also the first time I’ve spent real time up here, so my only memory is this. With her.
Payton is quiet for a beat. The clear city sky reflects in the blues of her eyes. They remind me of a day at sea, clear and wondrous.
I’ve made her speechless, and although this isn’t the first time ever, it might be the first time she’s not simultaneously planning my death.
“This is . . .”
“Over the top,” I finish.
“No. Well, yes. But, wow!” She looks awestruck.
“Wow, good?”
This is more self-conscious than I’ve ever been, and I don’t like it. But the novelty of it grows on me, probably because it’s with Payton.
Who the fuck am I?
What has this woman done with me?
“Wow, amazing! I can’t believe you did this.” Her voice sounds far away. “No one has ever done anything like this for me before.”
I let her take in everything in silence, not bothering her as she oohs and aahs over the details. After a moment, her small hand reaches out toward the picnic basket, and she traces the wicker with her fingertips.
