grab him, but as soon as we got close enough, he gave chase again.
“Your dog needs to be on a leash,” the bearded guy said, frowning at us over his glasses.
“He is on a leash,” Matty called over his shoulder as we ran after Brad. “We’re just not holding it!”
It seemed like Brad was starting to slow down—which was a good thing, because I was getting a serious stitch in my side—when he turned and raced toward a gray stone building. “We can grab him in the castle!” Matty yelled over his shoulder.
“The what?” I called back, then stopped short as I registered what was ahead of me—a structure with turrets and a flag flying from a tall spire, like we’d happened to wander into a fairy tale in the middle of New York. I could see just the back of Matty’s beanie as he took the stairs two at a time, and I hustled after him, trying to take it all in. How had I not known there was a castle in the middle of Central Park? Shouldn’t it be something people mentioned occasionally?
I followed Matty up the stairs. This led into a big, open courtyard, with two pagoda-y roofs on either end. I looked around but didn’t see Matty—or Brad—anywhere, so I figured they must have gone inside. There was a narrow, curving stone staircase with a railing to hold on to, and I took the stairs up, hoping that I hadn’t missed them out in the courtyard, and that Brad had actually gone in here—that we weren’t losing track of him to the point where we might not find him again. But I was trying not to think about that as I came to the top of the staircase and just stared.
I had stepped into a Renaissance dream—arched windows and informational signs in a big, open room. Apparently, this was Belvedere Castle. There were posters on the wall about the Birds of Central Park, but I was more concerned about the Brads of Central Park at the moment—and he was nowhere to be seen.
The room opened out onto a wide terrace. People were dotted around it, taking selfies or pictures of the view, and I could see why. From this vantage point, you could see the pond below and the skyline in the distance and Central Park, rolling on for as far as you could see in between.
“Stevie!” I heard Matty shout. His voice sounded muffled—and above me. “Up here!”
I realized that they must be one more level up—I could see from this terrace that there was one level higher. It was with relief that I hurried up another flight of stairs. There was nowhere else to go after this, so we were finally going to get Brad.
I made it to the top and almost crashed into Matty, who was standing in the doorway that led out to another terrace. This one was smaller than the one below it, but it also had a little pagoda-type covering, and absolutely stunning views.
“What?” I asked. “Where’s—” But then Matty pointed ahead, onto the terrace, and gave me the shhh gesture.
There were two people, a guy and a girl, both of whom looked like they were in their thirties, both carrying bags from Shake Shack. And Brad was standing a few feet beyond the doorway, out of Matty’s reach. But I didn’t understand why we were waiting here, or why Matty didn’t just grab him. I was about to ask this when the guy started talking.
“I wanted to do everything just like on our first date,” he said. The girl smiled at him, a little quizzically. “Burgers from Shake Shack, then a walk through the park…”
“Our first date was in June,” the girl pointed out with a laugh. “It made more sense then.”
“I know, but the thing is…”
“Matty,” I said, shaking my head, “what’s—”
But that was when the guy dropped to his knee. He set down his Shake Shack bag and pulled a ring box out of his coat pocket. “Hannah,” he said, holding out the box to her, “I love you so much.…”
It was then that I noticed that Brad’s nose was twitching, and he was zeroing in on the bag with the burgers in it. “Brad,” I hissed as quietly as I could, trying to get him to come to me.
“I can’t imagine my life without you,” the guy was saying as the girl sobbed, managing to look both shocked and joyful.