a fuss; Kat never minded making a fuss, especially if it was to help me. What was she doing now? Where was she in the city? Was she okay?
I followed Mateo up the stairs and out of the subway station, then blinked, surprised that the park was right there, just across the street. “God knows what Margaux is doing on the Upper East Side,” he said, shaking his head as he pressed the button for the light to change. He set Brad down on the ground, and he immediately started straining against his leash, darting back and forth, trying to sniff three things at once. “It’s usually impossible to get her out of Brooklyn.”
“That’s where she lives?”
Mateo nodded. “Dumbo. There’s the light.” He started to cross the street as I steeled myself to start walking again. “Stephanie?” he asked, seeing I wasn’t with him.
“Yeah,” I said, hurrying to join him and trying to ignore my current inner monologue of gahhhhhhhhhhh. “It’s actually Stevie.” I had reached my quota of Stephanies for the night. The only person who had ever called me that was my grandmother, give or take the occasional substitute teacher.
“Oh,” he said, holding on to the leash as Brad lunged forward and we made it across the street, and Mateo started walking toward the park entrance. I knew there were streets that cut through the park for cars, but I’d always loved that most of it was just for people. And even though it was night—and cold—the park was bustling, with bikers and runners in cold-weather gear, people pushing strollers, hot dog and pretzel vendors just outside the park entrance. “Sorry about that.”
“No big deal.”
“While we’re doing this,” he said, “it’s actually Matty. I mean, that’s what my friends and family call me.”
“Oh,” I said, embarrassed that I’d been calling him the wrong name all this time. “Got it. Sorry.” I held out my hand. I knew I didn’t deserve a fresh start, but I was hoping he’d give me one. “Nice to meet you, Matty.”
He smiled and we shook. “It’s a pleasure, Stevie.” He nodded ahead of him. “This way.”
I’d never walked through the park at night before. My dad lived right on Central Park West—just a handful of blocks down from where we’d entered—but it wasn’t like I’d spent a ton of time there. And even though it was night—and chilly—out, the park was still crowded. There were lots of people walking dogs; people passing through, on a mission, carrying briefcases or purses; other people wandering along, more aimlessly. There were parents pushing strollers, and lots of runners. The path we were on was pedestrian only, which was a good thing, considering Brad was running in every direction, barking at every dog he passed, but always with his curved tail wagging, like he was just saying hi. For the first time since I’d been in charge of him, it felt like Brad wasn’t somewhere he didn’t understand and wasn’t wanted—he was in his element, with things to sniff and dogs to bark at and tree trunks to mark. It even seemed like he was happier—he was walking jauntily, his tail curved up high, practically prancing along.
I was surprised by how quickly the rest of the city disappeared. We hadn’t been walking that long before the noise of the traffic and the lights of the buildings were swallowed up and things were darker, and quieter.
It was very peaceful—or it would have been, if my feet hadn’t been about to go on strike.
“It’s only going to take about ten minutes to get across,” Matty said, looking over at me, then frowning. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Super!” I said, trying not to sound like I was going to cry. If a pedicab, or a horse-drawn carriage, or just someone with a bike, had come by at that particular moment, I would have lunged at it and offered all I had (nineteen dollars. And a Pomeranian.) if they would take me across the park. “Let’s go,” I said, making myself smile. It was just ten minutes. I could handle that.
Five minutes later, I wasn’t sure if I could handle it. I limped to the side of the path and rested my hand on a fence post, seriously considering just sitting down on the ground. THE GREAT LAWN, read a nearby sign, and I looked over at a dark expanse of meadow. “I just wanted to… look at this.”
I knew that I should probably keep going—that every time I stopped it would