I settled more firmly against the bench, shutting my eyes, grateful we’d spent so much of our time together in Chicago sorting out when we would see each other over the next few months.
As convoluted as it was—twenty-four hours in New York, three days in London, forty-eight hours in Miami, another thirty-six hours in London—we were making it work.
Now that things were settled, now that we had plans and had made promises, now that I knew when and where and for how long I would see her until June, conversations like this one were possible.
“What would you change your name to?”
“You have to promise not to laugh.”
Still grinning, I shook my head. “Nuh-uh. I’ll laugh if it’s funny.”
“Then I shan’t tell you.”
“Shan’t?”
“Affirmative.”
That made me laugh. “Is it Wolf?”
“Is what wolf?”
“You want to change your name to Wolf?”
“Wolf? Where did you get that idea?”
“Because then we could talk about the Wolf coming, and it would take on a completely different meaning.”
She busted out laughing, and so I laughed, and then we were laughing together. God, this was so great. So great.
“You are—” She couldn’t speak, she was laughing too hard.
“What? What am I?”
“Never mind. I shan’t tell you that either.”
I loved her voice. I couldn’t wait until the end of the month and our first scheduled meet-up in New York.
“By the way.” She’d stopped laughing but the happiness in her voice remained. “Where are you? Still at the venue?”