The optimism of New Yorkers truly is undeniable. I roll my eyes.
At the corner, I raise a hand and wave it towards an oncoming cab. When he stops, I slide into the back seat, dragging my skirts behind me. My face peeks out of a massive wave of blue tulle. “350 Central Park West,” I say, meeting the cab driver’s gaze in the rearview mirror.
“Figures,” he scoffs, peeling away from the curb. “You miss the limo?”
I smile sarcastically. “The horse and buggy, actually.”
He barks out a laugh. “So, you doing the walk of shame or did the magic ball go all night?”
I sigh, nerves twisting in my stomach at the thought of meeting Henry after so much time. “Neither actually.”
“Ah,” the cab driver says knowingly. “There’s a story here.”
“You wouldn’t believe it.” I give him a strained smile.
Without the congestion of New York City traffic, we reach the curb of Central Park West in minutes. “Twenty dollars and thirty-three cents,” he says, twisting around to face me.
“I don’t have any money on me, but if you wait, I can bring some down,” I say, blanching.
“Wait?” The driver sputters. His face turns an angry shade of purple. “Listen, here, I’m not waiting.”
“Well you wait and get paid or you drive away, and you don’t,” I snap. I tear a large crystal from my dress and toss it to him.
He catches it. “What the hell is this?”
“Payment,” I say, scooting out of the cab. “Take it to a jeweler.”
The cab driver holds it up to the light and inspects the crystal. “How do I know it’s real?”
“You don’t. Here, have another.” I throw him another large crystal and slam the door shut.
I hear him grumbling as he pulls away, but I know he’ll get good money for those jewels. I turn to the entrance of Henry’s swanky apartment complex; the doorman is watching me curiously. I smile as I approach, trying to smooth my hair. As I get closer, I see it’s a doorman I’ve met before, Charles.
“Hi, Charles,” I greet him hopefully.
His eyes are wide as he studies my face. “Miss Chastain?”
“Verity, please.” I wave a hand. “Can you let me up? I need to see Henry.”
“Miss—Verity, Henry is going to be thrilled to see you,” Charles says hurriedly, breaking out into a smile. “Go on up.”
“Thanks, Charles.” I run through the door towards the elevators.
The closer I get to Henry’s apartment, the more my gut twists. And the more Altair flickers through my mind. I close my eyes and rub my temples. He was furious when I asked to see Henry, as I knew he would be. But I couldn’t bear to kiss him as if Henry had never existed. It would have been easier that way, but every time I feel that flicker of desire when I see Altair, it’s always followed by guilt.
I pause outside Henry’s door, my fist raised to knock. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen him, weeks since our ruined wedding. And somehow, those weeks felt like an eternity. Finally, I drop my fist to his door and knock loudly. I hear him stirring within, his footsteps approaching. My hands tremble.
Henry opens the door, dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, a mug of coffee in hand. I smile tentatively at him. “Hello, Henry.”
His jaw goes slack, eyes wide. “Verity?”
“Yeah,” I say softly. “I’m back.”
“Oh my god, Verity.” He wraps an arm around me, dragging me into his chest. He crushes me to him, driving the air out of my lungs. I squeeze my eyes closed. When he releases me, he holds my hand tightly and drags me inside his apartment. “Come in, come in.”
“Thanks,” I mumble, looking around. The boxes of my things are still littering the foyer—we were going to unpack when we returned from our honeymoon. His apartment is sleek and modern, massive by city standards.
“Let me get you some coffee,” he says hurriedly, rushing to the kitchen.
I nod and wander to the wall of windows overlooking Central Park. The sun is up fully now, casting an orange glow on the smog that always covers the city in the morning. Below, I can see cabs and town cars and busses maneuvering through traffic, tiny people scurrying every direction. Something twists in my chest.
“Verity,” Henry says, pulling me from my thoughts. He gestures for me to join him on his white, leather sofa.
“Thank you.” I accept the coffee from him and settle down. The sofa squeaks as I sit, something that never bothered me before.
Henry is quiet, watching me sip my coffee. When he finally speaks, his voice is soft, “I was starting to think you were dead.”
I press my lips into a nervous line. “I’m sorry.”
“What happened? Why are you dressed like that?” Henry asks, the questions pouring from his mouth.
“I was taken on our wedding day, abducted,” I sigh heavily. I don’t even know where to begin. It’s all so unbelievable.
“That’s what I thought.” Henry stares down at his hands. “When we went looking for you all we found was a shoe and your bouquet.”
“I must have dropped them,” I say.
Henry looks up, his blue eyes fierce. “Who did this? How did you get away?”
“He let me go. He didn’t do anything bad to me,” I say hurriedly.
“We have to go to the police so they can catch this guy.” Henry slips off the sofa and gets on his knees in front of me. He takes my hands in his. “I’m glad you’re alright. I was so scared.”
“How are my parents?” I ask, blinking back tears.
“They’re okay, they’ll be so relieved to know you’re home.” Henry kisses one of my knuckles. “I can call them up right now, we’ll all fly to Vegas and we can get married there. We don’t need the fairytale wedding.”
“What?” I feel as if the wind has been knocked out of me.
Henry squeezes my hands tightly, too tightly. “When you went missing, I realized that I didn’t care about all that stuff. I just cared about you.
