Indigo: Not often. Not since my mother died. It hurts too much.
My heart breaks for her. When we met three years ago, she loved two things more than anything else: family and music.
I hate that she's lost so much.
Ty: Have you tried recently?
Indigo: No. I've been busy.
Ty: Not anymore.
Indigo: Actually, my fiancé is sending me all around the city to look at wedding venues. I'm booked all week.
Ty: I can pick one if you'd prefer.
Indigo: No. I'll pick the venue. And the dress. You can arrange everything else.
Ty: Done.
Indigo: Done? You've already hired a hair stylist and makeup artist?
Ty: We haven't set a date yet.
We'll have to see what's available at the venue she chooses. They all have open spots this fall. And most have last-minute cancellations.
But something tells me Indigo is going to want to wait until the very end of September.
Indigo: We haven't announced our engagement yet.
Ty: We will. Friday.
Indigo: Dinner with your brother?
Ty: Yes.
Indigo: Do you have a ring?
Ty: I'm having something made for you.
Indigo: You know my size?
Ty: I know everything.
Someone bumps into me. A teenager taking a picture of her friend. They're in trendy clothes—those ridiculous Mom jeans and the Fjallraven backpacks everyone wears in Europe—but they hold themselves like tourists.
It's sweet, the way they're looking at the Financial District like it's this big, beautiful mystery they want to solve.
Maybe they're not tourists. That's how Indie looks at New York. Like she can't believe she's lucky enough to live in this big, beautiful city.
"Sorry." The teenage girl looks at me and blushes. "Do you work here?"
"Yes," I say.
"Do you know how to get to the bull statue?" Her blush deepens. "My friend wants to grab the balls."
"You won't be the first." I give her instructions.
She thanks me and runs off to her friends. Whispers something.
About the hot old guy in a suit? Or something else?
I don't often concern myself with the opinions of high school girls. Only Indigo's sister. And she's not a high school girl for much longer.
My cell buzzes again.
Indigo: I want you to propose.
Ty: What happened in my office a few weeks ago?
Indigo: With a ring.
Ty: On my knees?
Indigo: Only the one.
Ty: And you on your knees after?
Indigo: Maybe. If that's what you want, sir.
I take another deep breath. Try to find a sense of calm.
My thoughts refuse to sort. There's too much shit going through my head. All the possibilities of a life with Indigo.
The life I used to imagine.
The paths I can no longer walk.
Indigo: You bring up sex when you don't want to talk about something.
Ty: Did I ask you to call me sir?
Indigo: Yes. You asked if I'd be on my knees after. Were you referring to the two of us attending yoga class?
Ty: That's a new way to celebrate an engagement.
Indigo: If you don't want to discuss this, that's fine. We're already in the cab, on our way to the next venue. Paloma can help. She's probably trying to read this text. She hates being left out.
Ty: She's paid to deal with it.
Indigo: She's still spying.
My assistant won't say anything to anyone. But Indigo doesn't want her knowing this.
I don't want her knowing this.
It's ours. Only ours.
Ty: I want to tell Ian Friday.
Indigo: That gives you three days to propose.
Ty: Did you have anything in mind?
Indigo: Besides you on one knee, with a ring?
Ty: Yes.
Indigo: I want you to surprise me.
Ty: During my three-day time limit?
Indigo: Are you not up for the challenge?
Ty: You know better than to dare me.
Indigo: I know exactly what happens when I dare you, Ty. That's why I dare you.
She's bringing it back to sex this time. I can't exactly complain, but I need a clear head. Especially if I'm going to ask her to submit.
Right now, I don't have it.
I slide my phone into my pocket. Walk to my favorite coffee shop. Order a cold brew. Return to work.
The air-conditioning cools me. The propriety, the people looking at me like they expect something of me—
It's enough to straighten my thoughts.
Mostly.
I wait until I'm alone in my office to check my cell.
She's at the next venue. A grand hotel ballroom. Old money and elite. Too stuffy for her. But Paloma insisted on offering Indie a range of options.
Indigo: I want to tell Sienna. We can tell your brother first. But I want to tell her next.
Ty: She'll probably tell you to go celebrate by fucking my brains out.
Indigo: Probably.
Ty: How do you tell teenagers things? Instagram?
Indigo: I think it's Tik-Tok these days. But she'll only notice if there's a soccer ball in the frame.
Ty: I can write it on a football. Ask her to play.
Indigo: Maybe write it on your chest and take off your shirt.
Ty: Has she told you more about how I'm hot?
Indigo: She's asked for specifics.
Ty: Specifics?
Indigo: You know the specifics.
Ty: I'm not sure I do.
Indigo: What you like. How long you last. How well you fill out your boxers.
Ty: I don't wear boxers.
Indigo: She doesn't know that.
Ty: Did you tell her?
Indigo: That you go commando? Of course not. It's enough she's asking about the size of your cock. I always thought it was only men who are obsessed, but she has a lot of questions.
Ty: Really?
Indigo: I think she wants me to break out a ruler.
Ty: What did you tell her?
Indigo: That it's none of her business.
Ty: Indie.
Indigo: Your ego?
Ty: My ego is fine.
Indigo: You're just worried about her getting the correct information?
Ty: She'll keep asking. If you don't tell her something.
Indigo: I know.
Ty: You like her asking?
Indigo: You like your brother asking about me?
Ty: Maybe he didn't.
Indigo: Of course he did. I saw the way he looked at me. Like he'd heard a very explicit, very dirty story.
Ty: He may have.
Indigo: Oh?
Ty: I'm not so tight-lipped when I'm pissed.
Indigo: I need to get you drunk?
Ty: And take advantage of me?
Indigo: No. I'll be good. Keep my hands to myself.
Ty: Oh?
She's quiet for a few minutes.
Then my phone buzzes with a text from Paloma. Telling me to lay off the flirting so she can do her job.
Indigo: Paloma is insisting I put my phone away. She thinks I'm too distracted…
Ty: Tell her we're talking about the proposal.
Indigo: Doesn't she think we're engaged?
Ty: People get engaged without formal proposals all the time.
Indigo: Maybe.
Ty: I didn't think you'd want one.
Indigo: Me either. But I do.
Ty: Why?
Indigo: I want that moment. Of looking into your eyes, wanting to say yes to spending my life with you.
Would she say yes now? If there weren't any strings? If we were two people who wanted each other?