“She replied with three heart emojis, which I take as a yes. But I’ve been wondering…”
When he paused, she finished for him. “About the story?”
“Do you still have the necklace that Bryce gave you?”
Instead of answering, Maggie reached behind her neck and unhooked the clasp before sliding the necklace off. She handed it to him, watching as he carefully took it. He stared at the front before flipping it over and examining the engraving on the back.
“It’s so delicate.”
“I can’t think of a day I haven’t worn it.”
“And the chain never broke?”
“I’m pretty careful with it. I don’t sleep with it on or shower with it. But other than that, it’s part of my everyday ensemble.”
“And whenever you put it on, you remember that night?”
“I remember that night all the time. Bryce wasn’t just my first love. He’s the only man I’ve ever loved.”
“The kite was pretty cool,” Mark conceded. “I’ve done the campfire-and-s’mores thing with Abigail—at the lake, not at the ocean—but I’ve never heard of a kite strung with Christmas lights. I wonder if I could build one.”
“These days, you can probably Google it, or maybe even order one.”
Mark appeared contemplative as he stared into his own cup of tea. “I’m glad you had a night like that with Bryce,” he said. “I think everyone deserves at least one perfect evening.”
“I think so, too.”
“But you do understand you were falling for him all along, right? It didn’t start when the storm rolled in. It started on the ferry, when you first saw him in that olive-green jacket.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because you didn’t walk away and you clearly could have. And when your aunt asked if Bryce could be your tutor, you agreed pretty quickly.”
“I needed help in school!”
“If you say so,” he said with a grin.
“Now it’s your turn,” she said, changing the subject. “You took me skating, but is there anything you really want to do now that we’re here in Midtown?”
He swished the tea around in his cup. “You’ll probably think it’s silly. Since you’ve been living here so long, I mean.”
“What is it?”
“I want to see some of the department stores’ window displays on Fifth Avenue—the ones that are all decorated for Christmas? Abigail told me it was something I have to do. And in an hour and a half, there will be a choir performing outside St. Patrick’s Cathedral.”
The choir she could understand, but window displays? And why did it not seem out of character that he’d want to do something like that?
“Let’s do it,” she agreed, forcing herself not to roll her eyes. “I’m not sure how much I’ll be able to walk, though. I feel a little wobbly.”
“Great,” he said, beaming. “And we’ll travel by cab or Uber whenever we have to, okay?”
“One question,” she said. “How do you know a choir will be performing today?”
“I did some research this morning.”
“Why do I get the sense you’re trying to make this Christmas special for me?”
When his eyes flickered with sadness, she knew he didn’t have to explain.
* * *
After finishing their teas, they stepped outside into the chilly air and Maggie felt a sharp pain deep in her chest, one that continued to flare with every heartbeat. It was blinding white—knives, not needles—worse than ever. She froze, closing her eyes and pressing hard with a fist, right below her breast. With her free hand, she gripped Mark’s arm and his eyes went wide.
“Are you okay?”
She tried to breathe steadily, the pain continuing to flash and burn. She felt Mark’s arm wrap around her. “It hurts,” she rasped out.
“Do you need to go back inside and sit? Or should I take you home?”
With clenched teeth, she shook her head. The thought of moving at all seemed impossible and she concentrated on her breathing. She didn’t know if that would do any good, but it was what Gwen had told her to do when she was suffering through the agony of labor. After the longest minute of her life, the pain finally began to fade, a flare slowly dying out as it sank to the horizon.
“I’m okay,” she finally croaked, even though her vision seemed to be swimming.
“You don’t seem okay,” he countered. “You’re shaking.”
“Pac-Man,” she muttered. She took a few more breaths before finally lowering her hand. Moving slowly, she reached into her bag and pulled out her prescription bottle. She tapped another pill free and dry-swallowed it. She squeezed her eyes shut until she was able to breathe normally again, the pain finally receding to a bearable level.
“Does this happen a lot?”
“More than it used to. It’s becoming more frequent.”
“I thought you were going to pass out.”
“Impossible,” she said. “That would be too easy, since then I wouldn’t feel the pain.”
“You shouldn’t make jokes,” he chided. “I was just about to call for an ambulance.”
Hearing his tone, she forced a smile. “Really. I’m okay now.”
A lie, she thought, but who’s counting?
“Maybe I should take you home.”
“I want to see the windows and listen to the carols.”
Which, oddly, was the truth, even if it was kind of silly. If she didn’t go now, she knew she never would. Mark seemed to be trying to read her.
“Okay,” he finally said. “But if it happens again, I’m bringing you home.”
She nodded, knowing he might need to.
* * *
They rode first to Bloomingdale’s, then over to Barneys, then to Fifth Avenue, where every store seemed to be trying to outdo the next with its window decorations. She saw Santa and his elves, polar bears and penguins with holiday-themed collars, artificial snow in rainbow colors, elaborate installations highlighting selected apparel or items that probably cost a fortune.
By Fifth Avenue, she’d begun to feel better, even a little floaty. No wonder people got addicted to the pills; they actually worked. She clung to Mark’s arm as people swarmed past them in both directions, carrying bags bearing the labels of every brand on the planet. Many of the stores had long lines of people waiting to enter, last-minute shoppers hoping for the perfect gift, none of whom appeared happy in the slightest to be standing in the cold.
Tourists, she thought, shaking her head. People who wanted to go home and say things like You wouldn’t believe how crowded it was or I had to wait an hour just to go inside the store, like it was a badge of honor or act of courage. No doubt they would tell that same story for years to come.
And yet she found the stroll curiously pleasant, maybe because of the floatiness, but mostly because Mark was so clearly gobsmacked. Though he kept a firm grip on her hand, he was constantly straining to see over the shoulders of the crowds, eyes widening at the sight of Santa crafting a Piaget watch, or smiling in delight at oversize reindeer decked out in Chanel harnesses, all of them wearing Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses. She was used to grimacing at the crass commercialization of the holiday, but observing Mark’s sense of wonder made her regard the stores’ creativity with new appreciation.