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Still, I counter, "How about three?"
"Done." He offers his hand.
I shake.
He smiles. "I would have bought you a penthouse apartment."
"I know."
He pulls me into a tight hug. "I'm going to miss you."
"Me too."
When he releases me, he leads me out the door. "I'll talk to management. Get a key for the other unit." He leads me to the elevator. "Meet you at the roof deck."
"Okay." The down elevator comes first. He waves on his way into it. Then the up. It's fast, but it feels like a million years.
There's something happening here.
Dad is being weirder than normal. Or maybe it's me. Maybe I'm still adjusting to the East Coast.
The elevator dings as I arrive. I step into the sunshine.
It's a beautiful day. Warm and sunny, with a light breeze. There isn't a cloud in sight.
June gloom was here yesterday. Today, the city welcomes me with a little taste of California weather.
The deck, like the apartment itself, is small but nice. The size of my parents' living room, with green and beige couches and chairs.
One is occupied by a couple in their forties. Another hosts a woman and her dog. Two businessmen stand at the railing, smoking cigars (actual cigars).
Another guy in a suit stands in the corner, alone.
I move toward the couches, and I see it.
That's not a random stockbroker.
That's Jackson.
I pinch myself, but the view doesn't change. Jackson is standing in front of the railing in a navy suit and a silver tie, a thick textbook tucked under his arm.
A study guide for the New York State Bar.
It's only been two weeks (thirteen days, if you want to get technical) since I've seen him, but the familiarity still overwhelms me.
I want to be close to him. I want to be with him.
If he's here with that book—
I don't let myself think it. Not all the way.
He catches me staring and nods.
I nod back.
He moves toward me first. "How do you like the building?"
"I like the view." It comes out like a cheesy pickup line.
