by Lori L. Otto
“Promise?”
“I promise you that. And I don’t want you worrying about that all week, okay? No expectations. Normal Saturday date. Possibly a new venue. Deal?”
“Deal.”
“That way you won’t slip up and tell your parents anything either.”
“I’m not gonna say anything!” I press against his chest, rolling him onto his back.
“Alright, alright,” he says as he holds up his water bottle and hand in a defensive posture. “Do we resume tutoring this Tuesday?”
“I could muster up some homework,” I tell him. “And class on Thursday? I need someone to walk me home.”
“Of course you do, you helpless little thing, you.”
“I’m not helpless.” I joke with him, slanting my eyes. “I’m hopelessly in love, though.”
“Awww,” he says. “That was sweet.”
“That was true,” I tell him as I lean over to kiss him, putting my hand on his waist.
“The feeling is mutual,” he mumbles against me.
“Good.”
“Good.”
“Are you good?” I ask, giving him a sideways glance and hoping that he knows to what I’m referring.
He grins. “Yes, I’m good.”
“Let’s go watch a movie.” He silently agrees, getting up and following me into the media room.
“I think I’ll go get a refill upstairs,” he says as he takes both of our glasses from the coffee table. “You want one?”
“Yeah.”
“Pick out a movie,” he says on his way upstairs. “Something with lots of sex!” he yells back to me. I glance into the game room, cheeks red, as Lexi pops her head out, looking at me curiously.
“What was that about lots of sex?” she asks suspiciously.
“I think you’re hearing things,” I tell her, shaking my head.
“Like I heard things coming from your room?” she responds. “It didn’t sound like a lot of talking.”
“I swear we were!”
“Don’t swear, Liv, if you don’t mean it.” Well, we were talking some, so it’s not a lie. I shrug my shoulders, waiting impatiently for Jon to come back downstairs. “Can we watch the movie with you?”
“Of course,” I tell her, accepting that Jon and I aren’t going to get to be affectionate with one another anymore tonight anyway. Not with my cousin’s suspicions. Plus, Saturday will be here before we know it.
At a quarter till midnight, we turn off the movie and tune into a local channel to watch the ball drop in Times Square. Kyle and Lexi go upstairs to pour four glasses of champagne for a toast, bringing the glasses and the bottle down into the basement for us to celebrate the New Year.
“Wow, this is the first year I won’t have to hear some pompous toast from my dad,” I realize.
“Pompous?” Lexi asks. “Your dad is so eloquent. I love his toasts. They’re always so well thought, and he’s so well spoken. Does he write them and memorize them?”
“I don’t think so,” I tell her, having never given any thought to that. “I think he just speaks off the cuff.”
“He’s brilliant,” my cousin says. “I hope he’ll help my dad with a toast for the wedding. He already told me he didn’t think he could do it without a ton of alcohol, and something tells me that won’t be a good idea.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Steven drunk.”
“He gets a little belligerent, but yeah, I haven’t seen him drunk in years. Remember in Vail, when Jack and my dad got into it?”
“I didn’t go to Vail. That was before my time.”
“Oh, that’s right!” Lexi says. “That was the first time we’d met Emi. Apparently Dad was drunk then, and insulting Emi or something, and Jacks was trying to get him to ‘take it outside.’ We were all staring in awe. It was, like, bizarro,” she says. “Dad threw down his chair before he stormed out.”
“No way,” I say, shocked.
“What did Jack do?” Jon jumps into the conversation.
“He was really mad,” Lexi says. “I don’t think they spoke for the rest of the trip. I think Jacks would have hit Dad, had they gone outside.”
“Not my dad,” I argue.
“Yes, your dad,” she says back. “Don’t mess with the people Jacks loves. He won’t tolerate it.”
“We saw that with Brandon,” Jon says.
“Right,” Lexi nods in recognition. “Fortunately, your dad seems to have a knack for talking sense into the most senseless of people without ever laying a hand on them.” Hearing the countdown starting on the television, we all shift our focus there, flutes in hand.
“Wait, do we toast or kiss at midnight?” I ask playfully. Jon and I glance at each other, both deciding to drink the full glasses of champagne before the ball makes it all the way down. Lexi and Kyle are too interested in the crowd on TV to notice. As the ball drops, and as my cousin and her fiancé toast, Jon takes me into his arms and kisses me fully and passionately. He threads his fingers through my hair as I scrape his back beneath his shirts again. He moans at my touch, but neither of us pull away from the other. He moves his hands to either side of my face, and shortens our kisses. I keep my eyes closed, blissfully happy and feeling a little dizzy. I’m not sure if it’s the feeling of being swept off my feet, the lack of oxygen, or the champagne that’s making me feel this way.
Regardless, I’m glad Jon’s holding on to me.
“I love you,” he whispers.
“I love you, too.” I open my eyes to see his confident smile. “Happy New Year.”
“I’m kind of sad to see this one go,” he admits. “You made it the best one of my life, so far.”
“Well, I just started,” I tell him with a grin. “Give me another year, and I promise you, it’ll only get better.”
“I’ll take you up on that.” He bites his bottom lip contemplatively before pressing his lips to mine once more. “I can’t wait to see what this year brings us.”
“Me, neither.”
CHAPTER 13
“So how did you make it through New Year’s?” Granna asks both my mother and me over dinner. Dad had decided not to come with us, and instead took Trey out with Steven and his boys.
“It was nice,” Mom says. “It felt good to go out again.”
“I’ve been trying to tell you that for years, Emily.”
“I know. It just never felt right.”
“I’m happy for you. I bet Jackson was thrilled.”
“He was a little off that day. That’s what finally convinced me to do it. I don’t remember a year when he was so reflective about it. Getting him out of the house was just what he needed, though. We had a good time, and from what I hear, Livvy and Lexi had a good time.”
“Yes?” Granna directs her question to me.
“I did, for the most part.” Mom looks at me curiously. “I spent the morning looking through the sketch book.”
Granna shifts uncomfortably in her chair.
“Livvy showed me. I’m not upset,” my mother assures her. “I couldn’t really look through it yet, but I do intend to spend some time with it.”
“I thought she would understand it,” Nate’s mom explains.
“Really, it’s okay, Donna. I’m happy she has it. I’m sure it’s fascinating to her.”
“It is. It really is,” I tell them both. “I feel like I can relate to it. To him, really.”
Both women smile at me. Granna takes a deep breath. I can tell she has something to tell us.
“I have some news.”
“What?” Mom asks.
“The loft was put on the market.”
“The loft?”
Granna nods.
“What loft?” I ask.
“Nate’s loft,” they both answer.
“The owner said her family had outgrown it. She was sad to have to move.”
“It’s a beautiful apartment,” Mom says.
“It is,” Granna agrees.
“Where is it?”
>
“On 5th Avenue, overlooking Central Park. It has an amazing view out of floor-to-ceiling windows. It’s the penthouse apartment.” My mom smiles as she talks about it. “I lived there for awhile after he passed away.”
“Nate was going to ask your mother to move in with him for Christmas. They never exchanged gifts that year, though. The key was still wrapped under the tree.” I hear sadness in Granna’s voice.
“Why didn’t you give each other gifts?”
“We’d just found out about the baby,” Mom says. “It was tough. I needed some time to think. I’ve always been a little stubborn,” she adds as an aside to me.
“I know, I got it from you.”
“Hush,” she says in jest. “I kind of want to see it.”
“Then we should go after dinner. It’ll be our little secret.”
“Who are we keeping it a secret from?” I ask.
“Dad never cared for the loft.”
“Jackson said he could feel Nate’s spirit there. And I think your mom did, too.”
“It’s a very inspiring place to be,” she corrects Granna. “It was always inspiring, even when he was still living there.” She directs her attention to me. “I would go over there all the time so that I could focus more on my work. He’d have classical music playing most of the time. Sometimes there would be something more current, something emotive–”
“Depressing.” Granna clarifies through laughter. “It was either uplifting classical or something depressing.”
“Maybe a little,” Mom concedes. “I never argued. Whatever inspired him seemed to inspire me.”
“So should we go tonight? After dinner? Check it out?”
“Do you think they’d let us see it this late?”
“I know they would. I bought it.”
Silence falls over the table. Mom puts her fork down and takes a long sip of her wine. “You didn’t.”
“Yes, I did.”
“I want to go!” I say, excited to see this place where he worked and lived.
“Why did you buy it?”
“I’ve wanted it back for the longest time.”
“What for? Your house is already too big for you and James!”
“For the view, I don’t know... for the memories of him. There were many times over the past ten years that I’ve wished I could go look out that window, and see the city how he saw it.”
“Donna, I never knew you felt that way. I feel bad–”
“No, Emi, don’t feel bad for selling it. I wanted you to. And look at what we did with the money. That afforded us the Art Room, and we’ve changed so many lives. I couldn’t have taken it back then when you sold it. It was still too soon, too fresh.
“But now, I’ve been there a few times. I had someone decorate it. I plan to use it as a guest apartment–not that we typically have guests, but maybe it’s something we can keep in the family.” Her gaze lingers on me as she says this.
“Like, I could stay there sometime?”
“When you’re older, maybe,” my mom says.
“Possibly live there.” My eyes get wide at the suggestion. “Possibly?” Granna looks at Mom, unsure that she should have mentioned anything.
“Can we go now, please?”
“Livvy, finish your dinner first,” Mom says, avoiding Granna’s stare. “We can go after dinner.” She glances up and looks across the table. “We couldn’t let you give that loft to her. It’s out of the question.”
“Okay,” Granna says simply.
“Mom,” I whine.
“No, Liv, this isn’t negotiable, okay? You’re sixteen and far too young to be house hunting. Come on, eat up so we can sneak over there. I’m pretty sure your dad would oppose.”
“I won’t tell him.” I put my arms around her shoulders and hug her tightly. “Thank you!” When the waiter asks if we would like dessert, I answer for everyone with a quick no. I get no argument from either of the women, and I can tell they’re just as excited to go as I am.
Granna’s driver takes us the ten blocks to the loft. When we exit at the curb, we’re greeted by a valet, and then by a doorman who speaks to us formally.
“Mrs. Schraeder,” he says. “Mrs. and Miss Holland, it’s a pleasure to have you all here tonight.”
“Thank you, Francisco. I’m going to take them up to have a look at the place. But please, if Emi here ever stops by, please give her the spare key and let her come up. She’s welcome anytime. And, of course, she would want privacy so we wouldn’t want to make a scene of things.”
“Of course, ma’am.”
“And please, call me Donna.”
“Of course, Donna.”
“And Livvy, too–”
“But not alone,” my mom corrects her. “Livvy, you shouldn’t ever come here alone, okay?”
“Okay,” I respond, bouncing on the balls of my feet, anxious to go upstairs.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Francisco,” Mom says as she shakes his hand.
“Likewise.”
“Let’s go,” Granna says, guiding us toward the elevator. My mother sighs as the doors close us in.
“I haven’t been here since we moved everything out,” she says.
“It looks very different. We painted the walls. The hardwood was refinished at some point. It looks very nice, but it doesn’t look like his place. Or even your place,” she says with a smile. The elevator opens to a sparse hallway with three doors: two on the right and one on the left, which is apparently Nate’s apartment–or what used to be his apartment.
A clean, modern, open floor plan spans in front of us. Most of the colors are muted, except for the ones used in his paintings, which hang from select walls around the loft. “Wow.”
“You say it looks different,” Mom whispers as we walk inside, “but I think it looks exactly the same. The layout... the view. It’s just as I remember it.” She looks sad, taking slow steps toward a large bed in the middle of the main room of the loft. “I love the comforter,” she adds, picking up a pillow and pulling it into her chest as she sits down, facing the wall of windows. “Sometimes the moon was so bright, it would keep me awake at night. I always thought he should have curtains, but even when I moved in, I couldn’t obstruct that view.”
I wander over to the windows to have a look. The park is right across the street, and from this height, you can see the tops of all the trees. Many of the paved pathways are visible because the majority of the trees are barren from the winter cold. Beyond the park stands building after building. This view is the perfect mix of nature and industrialism. This is New York at its best.
“It’s unbelievable. If I lived here, I’d never leave!” I tell my mother and Granna.
“Your dad proposed to me in the guest bedroom,” Mom says, getting up and setting the pillow down carefully. “I’ll show you.” She starts to go into the next room, but stops, waiting for me. I can see her image in the reflection of the windows. “Don’t you want to see, Livvy?”
I shrug my shoulders, staring at a couple in the park. “So where did Nate paint in here?” I ask.
“All over. Wherever the inspiration struck. He’d move furniture around if he wanted. Most of the time, though, he painted by the windows, typically in natural light, whether is was daylight or moonlight. He didn’t like artificial lighting very much.”
“I don’t either.”
“You’ve mentioned that.”
“That’s the only thing I hate about my studio in the basement. It would be so much cooler to paint here.” I turn around, liking the idea. “I’d bring my drop cloth. I’d be really careful not to get anything on the floor or furniture.”
“Maybe some weekend days you and I can come over here,” Mom says. “Just for a few hours or so.”
“That would be so cool. Sundays, right? Because Saturdays are reserved for Jon.”
“Of course they are,” Mom says. “Sure, Sundays. Maybe the boys could go to the park when the weather’s nicer.”
“I
don’t want them to come with us,” I tell her.
“Well, I wouldn’t want to leave them out, Liv. But I can guarantee your dad won’t want to spend much time in the loft, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Him, and I don’t want Trey getting into everything.”
“Livvy, he’s a good kid and he knows to leave your stuff alone.”
“Still.” She rolls her eyes at me.
“Show me where Jacks proposed,” Granna says to Mom, who smiles immediately. I can tell she’s remembering that day. I turn back around, looking for the couple I had been watching.
“Mom?”
“Yeah?” she calls from the other room.
“Where were those pictures of you and Nate taken? The one that your friend made an album of...”
“Those were taken at Central Park,” she answers me.
“I know that, but where, exactly? Can you see it from the window?”
“I doubt it, Liv.” I wait for her, but she doesn’t come back into the room. I finally seek her out.
“Why’d Dad propose here, if he hated this place so much?”
“He was struggling to surprise me,” she says. “I knew it was coming, and every time we’d go somewhere special, I kept thinking he was going to do it then. But then he never would.
“I had planned a special night here. I was trying to let him know that I wasn’t willing to move out of the loft yet. I wanted to explain to him why I didn’t want to go, and I was going to try to give him some incentive. I would move out when we got married. In a sense, I was trying to manipulate him into asking me.
“But he didn’t let me get that far. This room was empty. Jen had moved out recently, and I hadn’t done anything to replace the furniture she took. I set up my iPod and played some romantic music... and we danced.
“We talked a little about the loft, but then he kissed me and I felt something cold and metallic on my finger.” Her smile is huge, and her eyes begin to water. “And he simply said, ‘Marry me, Emi.’”
“Wasn’t the ring he gave you something different than what you wear? A colored stone?” Granna asks.
