New York Nights (Heart of the City #2)(20)

Ben walked from behind the counter to join us in the lounge. He leant on the back of the sofa. 'Ever been to Central Park?' he asked.

I shook my head. 'It's on my list.'

Ben thought, then nodded. 'Well, get ready, because you're about to cross it off.'



From the outside, the three of us looked like any normal family on a Sunday stroll. Ben pushed Grace in her pram, navigating the less-than-perfect terrain of the pavement. Or maybe he was out of practice. I tried to help, but he was adamant that he could do it, so I stood to the side, shielding my eyes from the sun as he fiddled with a brake that was giving him grief. Grace began to cry because we had stopped. I waited, sipping my now lukewarm bottle of water, my eyes taking in the impressive Plaza Hotel. Being a total tourist, I attempted to snap some pics on my phone, but the building was far too big to fit into one photo at such close range, so I turned my attention to the Pulitzer Fountain, tiered with flowing water basins. I was impressed by the bronze statue of Pomona, the Roman goddess of abundance, and I couldn't help but walk around the perimeter of the fountain, taking a seat near one the corners. I remembered a beautiful black-and-white photo I'd seen of Marilyn Monroe seated at this fountain, probably in this very spot.

'You ready?' asked a hot and flustered Ben. He looked impatient and over the expedition already and we hadn't even entered the park yet. Considering what I had been feeling only eight hours beforehand, I welcomed the reappearance of his normal, moody façade. He had proven that, whatever had almost happened last night, nothing was going to change between us. He was as cranky and distant as ever, and although I'm sure there were good intentions behind the trip to the park, he clearly wished he was somewhere else  –  namely work, as he checked his phone every five minutes. Or maybe he was waiting on a message from Holly, the plain blonde from last night. He had a deep crease etched on his brow as he read something on his screen, before he finally pocketed the phone. 

We crossed the road at a busy intersection and entered at the southern end of the park. We wandered the winding pedestrian paths, passing a pond, rocky outcrops, bridges, open fields and skyline views. I cared little if it annoyed Ben, I couldn't contain my happy-snapping pleasures and even got him to play photographer as I stood on the bridge with the Plaza Hotel in the distance. I took my phone from him, smiling at the screen, thrilled that he had taken a good shot. I glanced at him to say thanks, but was surprised to see the amusement that lined his face.

'What?'

'Nothing.' He shook his head, turning to continue to push the pram along, shifting me into motion. 'Come on, I'll take you to Bethesda Terrace.'

'Bethesda Terrace?' I repeated, searching my New York City guide.

'You'll know it when you see it.'

'Probably,' I admitted, having had a binge session of all my favourite New York movies two days before my interview.

'It's one of the most photographed monuments in Central Park. The bronze sculpture is called the Angel of the Waters, it symbolises the purification of New York's water supply in the eighteen hundreds. Below the angel are four cherubs that represent the Victorian sentiments of Purity, Peace, Temperance and Health.'

I walked beside him, tilting my head and squinting at the sun. 'Well, listen to you,' I teased. 'Quite the tour guide.'

'There's not much I don't know about this city.'

'Okay, well, you might know this then. I can see it in my head. A long walkway with a beautiful canopy of trees and bench seating and -'

'The Mall.' He laughed. 'We're going that way.'

'We are?' I said.

'It's one of the main walkways leading to Bethesda Terrace.'

I grinned broadly, thinking how often I had seen the iconic strip on TV, and I was soon to be walking through it.

Watching the squirrels dart around on the expanses of lawn, I wanted to wake Grace up and show them to her, but she seemed so peaceful, and then I realised there would be plenty more opportunities in the future for us to picnic in the park with or without Ben; this city was ours to explore. I just had to not get caught up in the urgency of wanting to see everything in New York in a minute, and start accepting that I wasn't going anywhere in the foreseeable future. This was my new job, my new home, and if I wanted to keep it that way, whatever happened last night could positively not happen again. Even though Ben, all tall and lovely with his navy Ralph Lauren polo and Ray-Bans, looked so incredibly good that I had wicked thoughts and fantasised about it happening again, without interruptions.

No! No, there won't be a next time, Sarah. Jesus, just look at the pretty park surrounds and get your head out of the gutter already.



The canopy of elms offered us a shady respite from the bright summer skies. Without a skyscraper in sight, it truly felt like we'd left the city behind. Tempting as it was to grab a bench and people watch for the afternoon, we pressed on down the shady promenade.

'You know, the Mall was specially designed to accommodate the width of carriages so they could drop off their wealthy passengers to enjoy the scenery and mingle with people of lesser status.'



       
         
       
        

I envisioned Victorian ladies strolling with their parasols and grand men in top hats.

'So I guess, back in the day, a carriage would have dropped you off and you could have socialised with me, the "lesser status",' I joked, but Ben didn't seem to find that particularly funny. If anything, he looked pretty uncomfortable.

He cleared his throat and continued playing tour guide, ignoring my comments. 'When these visitors finally reached Bethesda Terrace, their carriages would be waiting to take them to their next destination,' he finished.

I wanted to add, 'Here endeth the lesson,' but thought better of it.

From what I could tell, the Mall was still a gathering place, although the Victorian grandeur of ladies and gents in their Sunday best was long gone. The Mall was now occupied by skateboarders, rollerbladers and street performers. A long line of artists sketched tourists as we walked through to the Concert Ground.

I smiled. 'You're right, I do know this place.'

Bethesda Terrace sat on two levels, united by two grand staircases and a lesser one that passed under Terrace Drive, providing a passage from the Elkan Naumburg Bandshell, an elaborate amphitheatre. We stopped there for more photo ops, me standing on the stage in the centre with my hands above my head as Ben operated my phone. I was a total embarrassment, but I didn't care. The upper terrace flanked the 72nd Street Cross Drive and the lower terrace provided a podium for viewing the lake. Ben described all the intricate details in the way that only an architect could: mustard-coloured New Brunswick sandstone, with a harder stone for cappings, granite steps and landings, herringbone paving of Roman brick. It had me thinking I was the luckiest tourist in New York.

We stood on the staircase and, in a pinch-myself moment, Ben nudged my arm and offer me a sip of his water, since I had long since finished my own. His eyes may have been shielded by his Ray-Bans, but there was no hiding the smile.

'Go on, you weren't exactly worried about my germs last night,' he teased.

I didn't know how to react. Aside from our shared guilty looks this morning, not one word had been mentioned about last night. The speech I had been dreading  –  the 'this can never happen again' speech  –  never came. Nothing until now, and he was making a joke of it? I did not understand Ben Worthington.

I took the bottle of water from him and took a long swig of it, gasping and smacking my lips together in appreciation as I retorted, 'De-licious!'





Chapter Twenty-One


I danced around with Grace in the lounge, because you do anything you can to keep a baby happy, and bouncing up and down, with the occasional jolted drop, seemed to thrill her no end. 

'You're going to be a thrillseeker, huh?' I laughed as I whizzed her around and she cackled. 'I think she's going to be a rollercoaster rider, this one,' I called to Ben, who had been in and out of the lounge while I entertained Grace. He walked into the room, staring at his phone, lines creasing his face. While it wasn't out-of-the-ordinary to see Ben like that, something was up. 'What's wrong?'

Ben blinked out of his trance, looking at me with his steely grey eyes. 'You know not to let anyone into the house while I'm away, right?'

I calmed my swinging of Grace to a slower rocking as I looked at him, confused. 'Of course.'

He nodded.

'The only people I know in New York are the well-meaning female members of your family,' I added, praying that if he was concerned about letting anyone into the house, maybe he could stop his mother rocking up on the doorstep. The suggestion I would just let anyone in made me feel annoyed. 'I'm going to give Gracie a bath,' I said coldly.

'You don't have to do that.'

'It's okay, I don't mind.' And I didn't. The less time I had to be near the kitchen with Ben the better. Some memories you just didn't need to recollect. We might both have been able to sweep last night under the rug, but it didn't mean living together would be completely free of awkwardness.

Just one more day and then he would be back at work, I told myself, and it would be me and Gracie in our own little world.

Regardless of the fresh air of the day and the liberal use of lavender bath liquid, Grace was as awake as ever, trying to escape getting dressed, as if she had somewhere better to be.