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“Oh, don’t get me started,” said Lola. “What am I going to tell her?”
“The truth. Not all at once. But by bit.”
“The whole truth?”
“Nothing but?”
“What about—" Lola looked around, and whispered, “themarriage?”
“Well, I guess we need to decide what to do about that.”
“What can we do?”
I stepped back. “Close your eyes,” I said.
“Alex,” moaned Lola. “I’m tired.”
“Come on,” I said, and I grinned. I was getting used to smiling a lot more these days. “Just for a second.”
“Okay,” said Lola.
“Count to three. Then open. Okay?”
“Okay. One. Two. Three.”
Lola opened them.
I was down on one knee in front of her.
“Oh,” she said. And suddenly, even the wind seemed to go quiet on the penthouse rooftop.
“Lola Ryder,” I said. “I love you, and I think I’m always going to. No matter where you go, or what you do. Or what I do. So, would you do me the honor of divorcing me?”
Lola laughed a little. Then, her eyes widened as she realized what was happening. As she saw the diamond ring that was in my hand.
“I will,” she said, nodding.
“And will you do me,” I went on, “the much greater honor, of remarrying me?”
“Yes,” said Lola. “Yes,” she said, “yes, yes, yes,” and laughed, and I laughed too, and I leaped up and embraced her.
“But there’s someone else we need to ask,” she said.
“First thing tomorrow,” I said.
Lola held out her hand, and I practically growled with pleasure, as I slipped on the ring.
I kissed her while the stars and the wind and the city lights shone around us. It was a miracle to be somewhere so beautiful. But the miracle was that we were there to see it.
Epilogue
Lola
Threemonthslater,ona Sunday in Manhattan, while the Summer was ending and the trees in Central Park had begun to go red and golden brown, the day came.
I was late, as my father and I sped down 5thAvenue. My dad had never been to New York before, though my mom had.
“Look atthat,” he said. And I turned around, watching the Flatiron building in the distance.
