Truly (New York 1)

Because it was real.

She tucked herself against his body and blinked away tears. His other arm came up, wrapping her tight.

They stayed like that for a long time, caught between the sound of the water and the throaty diesel hum of the engine. Caught between the sky and the painted metal hull of the boat, between the wind at her front and the warmth at her back.

Suspended between the past and the future, May wondered what would happen to her tomorrow.

She wondered if she would find, when it was time to go home, that she didn’t remember how to be the person she’d been before.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Ben spent the rest of the day showing May interesting things.

She didn’t care one way or the other about the fort at Battery Park, but the Irish famine memorial enchanted her. She’d exclaimed over how small and pretty it was, like an Irish hillock transplanted to the city. They’d

climbed all over the top of it, studied the quotations along the sides and the information hidden in the tunnel underneath, and inspected the genuine Irish cottage at the top.

Glowing with excitement, May pronounced it the coolest memorial she’d ever seen.

“It’s my favorite,” he told her, and her eyes glistened as though he’d given her a gift of incalculable value.

She didn’t care for Chinatown or the Diamond District, but she pronounced the lighting district marvelously outdated and insisted he buy a lightbulb, just to keep it in business.

He fed her Mexican food and bought her a shot at the three-story tequila bar on Sixth Street.

“Where’s the limes?” she’d asked when her drink came, and he’d told her that this was good tequila, so she had to sip it, like cognac.

Her eyes got big. “I had cognac once,” she said. “It made my tongue numb.”

Then she started telling him a story about an exchange student who’d lived with her family and the trip she’d made to France with Allie at the end of that visit, how they’d stayed with the French family for two weeks and eaten all kinds of mysterious foods, capped with a long meal at a country restaurant that May described course by course until he was salivating.

For the food, for May. For the taste of cognac on her tongue.

They hopped on the subway and took the 6 train to the 7 over to Queens. May talked almost all the way there, telling him rambling stories about her sister and the guy she was about to marry, an old friend of May’s named Matt, as well as someone named Keller who may or may not have been a dog. Mostly he let the words wash over him and watched her face, the pleasure she took in sharing something funny or quirky, the way she leaned closer when she got to a good part, smiling in anticipation of his enjoyment.

They got off on the elevated platform at Court House Square, and May started peppering him with questions. “Are you looking for apartments here? Because I have to be honest, I’m starting to get worried about the apartment thing. I feel like maybe I’m getting in your way, and what happens if you don’t have one yet when Alec gets home? Do you—”

“May,” he interrupted. While she talked, he’d led her around the back side of a platform piling.

“What?”

“Shut up for a minute.”

He put both hands on her shoulders, holding her still so he could kiss her. She smiled as his face lowered toward hers. When their mouths met, her lips parted immediately, and the kiss bypassed slow and gentle and dropped into darker, hungrier territory.

He’d been staring at her mouth on the train, waiting for this moment. She tasted like smoky tequila, her tongue languid and relaxed. Her hands found their way to the hem of his jacket and inside to his back, her light fingertips exploring the bare skin just above his belt.

He didn’t allow himself to move his hands or grind his body against hers, but he kissed her for as long as he wanted to, which was an indecently long time, until her hands began to stroke higher up and then to clutch and pull him in.

He kissed her cheek, her neck. “We can’t here.”

“I guess not,” she said, her voice husky with arousal and disappointment. “But, man, do I ever want to.”

He dropped his forehead onto her shoulder and laughed. It was either that or cry. “You should’ve mentioned that before I brought you all the way to Queens.”

“I didn’t know we were coming here again! You didn’t say.”

“I thought you needed to go to a museum. It’s part of the tourist experience.”