Chapter 44 Gabriel—One Year Later

Hi. What can I get you?" A bubbly blonde with glossy lips tilts her head with a smile. She's cute—my type. My old type, anyway. Probably no older than twenty-three, wide-eyed, and eager. There's a familiarity to her. I briefly consider whether she might be a student of mine, but it doesn't really matter.

"I'll take a small coffee and…" I lean down and look in the glass case. "One of those nice-looking crumb cakes, please."

"Coming right up."

I swipe my credit card. Shuffle down the line. Stand with four strangers all staring down at their phones as they wait for their orders.

"Gabriel? Order pickup," a voice rings out a few minutes later.

I take my coffee and the paper bag. Out of habit, my eyes slide back to the cute blonde. She smiles, waits for me to break our gaze. Or maybe she's waiting for me to walk back over, flirt a little. Ask for her number, perhaps. But the new me isn't interested. My tastes have changed. Grown and matured.

I take my usual spot, sitting in a tufted leather chair toward the front of the shop. It gives me the perfect view of the house across the street, the one with the cheery flower boxes and the seasonal wreath that hangs on the front door. Brooklyn has grown on me the last few months, especially this neighborhood in Carroll Gardens with all the inviting brownstones. Who knows, maybe I'll move here. Maybe I'll leave Columbia and teach at Brooklyn College, like a certain new adjunct professor I know.

Speaking of which, the door opens across the street. The new puppy runs out first, pulling its owner with it. I smile as Meredith barrels down the stairs, yanking the leash and trying to stop the beast. But the animal probably weighs almost as much as she does already. It's all gangly and leggy, with drool hanging from its wrinkly face. Neapolitan mastiff, not exactly the ideal breed for New York City, but somehow it suits Meredith.

She gets control of the dog at the bottom of the stairs, makes him sit for a treat. Then she starts her daily walk. Sometimes her friend joins her, the one married to the hockey player I pretended not to recognize that night at Sunny's. But today she's alone. I'm glad. I don't like too many distractions during the limited time I get to spend with her each day. I wait until they're almost at the corner before I exit the coffee shop and follow. Brooklyn doesn't have the same shield of people to hide behind as Manhattan. I need to be careful.

I follow for six blocks. At the corner of Third and Smith, she stops and digs her phone out of her pocket. A gust of wind blows, almost taking my baseball cap with it. There's a storm coming later tonight. I stand behind a tree on the opposite side of the street, pull the brim of my hat down, and watch her side-eyed. Her hair flies around in the breeze, and it makes me smile.

Meredith looks good, great even. She's gained a few pounds, which she needed. And put some highlights in her dirty-blond locks, let them grow past her shoulders. But it's her smile that rocks me. I wait for it each day, my own version of the sunrise to remind me there's hope—a new start, a new promise, a new life. She's halfway through her morning dog walk, so I begin to grow concerned that maybe today I won't see it. But then it happens. Meredith says something into the phone and her head bends back in laughter. Warmth blooms inside my chest.

She's happy.

Really happy.

I wonder if whoever is on the phone makes her feel that way.

I wonder if it's a man.

I wonder if maybe someday I could make her smile.

She teaches now. I looked her up on the college's website while I waited for her to come out the other day. Adjunct professor of psychology. We have a lot in common. Our jobs, our history, our curiosity about people and what makes them tick.

She's on the move again. Finished with her call, Meredith continues her morning walk. Left, then left, back up for six blocks before the final turn. When she rounds the corner, returning to her block, I wait, staying a good distance behind. Another dog on a leash approaches and the two animals can't resist—they jump all over each other, even as their owners try to get them to stop. They play, standing on hind legs with open mouths and swatting each other in the face. Meredith is too busy trying to gain control of her dog to notice something fall to the ground. But I'm not.

A few minutes later, the dogs are finally separated, and Meredith walks the last quarter block to her house and goes inside. It's Tuesday, so it'll be another hour or so before she comes out to head to class. I have school myself today, so I can't stay, but I am curious about what she left behind on the ground. So I pull my hoodie up and over my hat, bringing it forward as much as I can to shield the sides of my face, and jog across the street.

A small silver charm gleams in the sunlight. It's shaped like a bone, a dog tag that broke free of the collar. I lean down and scoop it up for a closer look. But as I do, the dollar bills I have tucked in the pocket of my hoodie slip out. I catch all but one that the wind steals, and the lone bill goes tumbling down the street with dirt and sand and everything else in the path of the brewing storm. I let it go, more interested in seeing what little treat Meredith has left behind for me than in chasing a dollar. Nothing is on the front of the tag, but I flip it over to the other side and my heart stops when I read the name engraved.

Romeo.

She named her dog Romeo.

From Shakespeare.

The subject I teach…

Is that a coincidence?

I want to believe it's not, that Meredith still thinks about me. Or maybe she doesn't, but it's a sign. A sign I should keep waiting.

Waiting for you.

I fold the tag into my palm with a smile and start to walk away. But a voice from behind me catches my attention.

"Sir!"

I turn.

The man holds something out. "I think you dropped this." He smiles. "I thought it was Monopoly money at first. But it's a baht, right?"

"Yes, it is."

"I went to Thailand on my honeymoon. That's why I recognized the currency. Beautiful country. Did you just get back?"

I shake my head. "Leave next week."

"If you're going with someone, check out Koh Yao Noi. Gorgeous beaches. Secluded. They do these candlelight dinners on the sand. It was my wife's favorite part of the trip."

I smile. "Thanks for the tip. I was supposed to take someone, a reward for a job well done. But as it turns out, she won't be able to make it, so I'll be going alone."