“Yeah, pretty much my whole life. And I know there was no reason to be jealous of you back when you were really sick, except even then you had all the attention.” I screw up my features, shaking my head. “It’s not that I want to be sick. That’s not it. It’s just…you were always the special one, even when you didn’t want to be, and that’s fine. Really. I don’t—it’s whatever. That’s not why I’m saying this.”
I rub my forehead hard, trying to unscramble the thousands of thoughts clambering to be set free all at once.
“I don’t blame you for taking care of Avery like you did. She needed it. But I existed too. I’m your daughter too, and there were a lot of times when I was growing up that I just felt…forgotten.” I take a deep breath, having realized what a colossal mistake I’ve just made. A quick perusal of the restaurant confirms that every single person has stopped what they’re doing to look over and listen to me give this speech. “Oh-kay. I’m going to excuse myself now. Avery, you were really good in that musical, and I love you. And sorry for ruining your big night.”
Then I scoot my chair back further and walk right out the front door of the restaurant, but not before some guy sassily shouts through his cupped hands, “Yes, honey! Preach!”
A gust of cold air hits me upon my arrival on the sidewalk. My bout of honesty-vomit didn’t give me the chance to properly plan for an exit. I left my wrap inside. I can’t go back and get it. I’d rather lose an arm to frostbite than face my parents right now.
Then a warm jacket covers my shoulders and I glance up to find Derek has joined me.
“Ready to go?” His calm tone contradicts the scene we both just left behind. He ushers me to the street and hails a cab. “The Plaza,” he tells the driver before tugging me against him.
We ride in perfect silence. It’s a gift, I realize. He’s giving me what I need most: a moment to recover. Once we’re there, we stroll through the lobby and up to his room as if we’re a couple returning from a blissful day out in the city. He has a suite with enough floor space to do a series of back handsprings, but I focus on the turned-down bed and the bottle of champagne chilling beside it.
“Can I open this?” I ask, already reaching for it.
“Yeah, and I’m still hungry,” he says, hanging up his jacket in the closet. “Are you?”
“Starving. What was in the carrot soup, anyway?”
“Carrots,” he says before placing a room service order for a cheeseburger, fries, spaghetti, and a vanilla—I correct him—chocolate milkshake.
“Food will be here in forty-five minutes.”
I give up working on the champagne. Residual adrenaline is making my hands shake. The bottle clinks back into the bucket of ice and I walk to the window. Central Park sits at my fingertips, seemingly endless. How does Manhattan do it? Trick you into forgetting you’re on a tiny speck of an island, one person among millions?
Derek comes to stand beside me, glass of champagne in hand. I didn’t even hear the cork pop. He offers it to me and I accept, holding it at my side, unwilling to move. I can’t come to grips with the fact that I just exploded like that in the middle of a restaurant. I want to trade lives with that lady down there in the park, walking her dog. I bet she’s never caused a scene like I just did.
“For the record, I think what you did was incredibly brave.”
My laugh is laden with sarcasm. “Thank you, but it was mostly gibberish. I doubt I even made sense.”
“Sure you did.”
My forehead hits the glass. My eyes pinch closed.
“It was twenty years in the making,” I confess.
“I could tell.”
“Did I sound crazy?”
He rubs the back of my arm gently with his knuckle, just above my elbow.
“No, not at all.”
“Think they hate me now?”
“Of course not.”
I’m not sure how long we stay like that. On the street, a siren grows loud, louder, loudest then disappears. My eyes stay closed. He steps closer, enveloping me. The last of my adrenaline and worry evaporate as I settle against him. To love is to settle, to feel calmed by a lover’s embrace. It’s why people often define home