“I’ll be late. I’m going to stop in and check on Tobin.”
Nina laughed. “Good luck.”
She headed for the door and stepped onto the street. She texted Jack before descending to the subway station, not wanting him to bother picking her up. She would take the subway to his place after she hit the park.
It felt good to be moving, to be with the rest of the city’s residents pushing their way through the turnstiles and crowding the platform to wait for the L train. She felt like she’d been in a bubble since the moment Jack had told her to get her passport.
She wished she’d thought to wear something more practical — her legs were cold under her coat and traversing the city in heels still wasn’t her favorite — but she’d dressed that morning for her night with Jack, not a trek through the park to hunt for her mystery photographer.
It was one of the hazards of spending her nights at the penthouse — and not the most dangerous one. As difficult as it was juggling her wardrobe and her schedule, stopping at the apartment first thing in the morning to change for the gallery and running upstairs to feed and pet Virginia — it was nothing compared to the peril of getting too attached to Jack Morgan.
And she was attached.
He hadn’t been quite as open since they’d returned to the city as he’d been in Paris, but he was gentle and solicitous everywhere but in bed. There he’d become increasingly passionate and demanding, exploring her body with a thoroughness that would have been embarrassing if it hadn’t been so erotic.
She was happy to lay in his arms afterward, listening to his heart beat under her ear, a reminder that he was a man even when the defenses he’d built around himself seemed to indicate otherwise.
She tried not to think about the future, to wonder whether what they had was sustainable, whether Jack would grow tired of her realness. It was okay to enjoy the experience, to see where it took her, and she’d become protective of the details, not wanting to invite criticism from Karen, and especially Moni, both of whom had had front row seats to the aftermath of the fiasco with Jack and Liam.
It was dark when she exited the subway station at 14th Street. People walked with their heads down against the cold, eager to get to the next warm place.
In the summer Washington Square was crowded with people until late in the night and Nina had spent more than one warm evening sitting near the fountain after drinks with the girls. In the aftermath of her breakups with Liam and Jack, she’d found comfort in the evidence that life went on, that couples still walked hand in hand and little old men still walked their dogs and tourists still took pictures in front of the fountain.
The atmosphere was different in the winter, thick with a kind of desolation that somehow managed to be beautiful. The trees were bare of their leaves, the fountain silent, turned off to avoid freezing of the pipes.
Street lamps illuminated the concrete pathways, and Nina stuffed her hands in her pocket as she headed for the bench where she’d found the first photograph. She had no idea what she would do with the photographer if they managed to connect, but it seemed important to make the effort.
She came to the bench and removed the Post-Its from her bag along with a pen, then sat on the bench and thought about what to write. Mentioning that the pictures were all of women seemed like a recipe for hysteria: there was no way to make “pictures of women” not sound creepy to anyone who might find the Post-It.
She bent her head and started writing.
Dear photographer of solitude,
Your pictures move me. I would love to hear your story.
Nina
She added her phone number and studied the note to make sure it made sense. She’d intentionally avoided any mention of the gallery. She had a feeling the photographer wasn’t looking for that kind of attention, that the pictures were a labor of love and not a guerrilla marketing tactic.
Standing, she taped the Post-It on the bench and continued through the park, stopping at all the places she remembered finding photos — light posts and benches and tree trunks and the short iron fences that bordered the walkways. She used the sleeve of her coat to wipe off the surfaces, damp and cold with winter, before using the duct tape to secure the notes.
She retraced her steps and made her way out of the park the way she’d come in, smiling as she passed the small pieces of neon pink paper flapping in the wind. It was a different kind of art, the paper bright against the sepia shades of winter. It would make for a strange scavenger hunt and she hoped no one would remove them before at least one could be found by the photographer.
She wondered if the woman left her photographs anywhere else in the city, if she was out there somewhere, taping them to the walls of subway stations and condemned buildings. It made her happy to think of another woman walking the streets alone, on a mission, bearing witness to silent moments, making solitude not a thing to fear but a thing of beauty.
Of strength.
She stepped through the gate and started for Jack’s feeling more settled than she had in days.
11
“You should take some pictures of your own,” Robin said, eyeing Nina over her drink.
“I can’t even take a good picture with my phone,” Nina said.
They were at Cedar Local, an expensive bar in the financial district, celebrating Friday night and the first time they’d all been able to get together in weeks. Nina had groaned at the prospect of going all the way down to FiDi just for drinks, but Karen insisted she needed some Wall Street man candy, a sentiment to which Amy objected, noting that there was plenty of gorgeous Wall Street woman candy, citing herself as Exhibit A.
“Take a class.” Amy looked at Moni. “Have Moni teach you.”
Moni shook her head. “I’m not a photographer.”
“But you could tell her if her pictures were good,” Karen said. “And if they weren’t, you could tell her why.”
Nina laughed. “Why the sudden plot to make me a photographer?”
“You just seem into it,” Robin said.
They were talking about her trips to the park and the Post-It notes to the mystery photographer, none of which had resulted in a phone call in the two weeks since Nina started leaving them.
“I just like the pictures,” Nina said. “If anything, that puts me more in Moni’s category than a photographer.”
Moni lifted her glass to her lips. “Except I did actually try taking pictures.”
“What? How come you never told me that?” Nina asked.
Moni shrugged. “‘I tried taking pictures once but I was terrible at it’ isn’t exactly gripping conversation.”
“Speak for yourself,” Nina said. “When was this?”
“Before I opened the gallery. I bought a used Canon and hauled Angela around the city in a Baby Bjorn while I took bad pictures of kids playing basketball and homeless people sleeping holding their signs.”
A twenty-something in an expensive suit bumped into Karen’s chair. She gave him a not-so-subtle shove back. “Excuse you.”
The place was packed. They’d only managed to secure one of the small tables because of the bar’s proximity to Amy’s office. She’d gotten there before it got crazy.
The kid turned around, a sneer forming at the corners of his mouth before he got a look at Karen. He held up his hands. “Sorry.”
Nina wondered if his contrition was because Karen was gorgeous or because she reminded the kid of his mom.
“You said you wanted Wall Street man candy,” Nina said.
“Emphasis on the word man,” Karen said.
“So what happened?” Robin asked, returning her attention to Moni. “With the pictures?”
Moni laughed. “I had a good eye even then. I knew they were shit, resigned myself to being a buyer or curator, and that was that.” She looked at Nina. “But I tried.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nina asked.
“Just that you should try it if you have an interest,” Moni said. “You never
know, and even if you suck as bad as I did, it will help you with curation. You’ll see things you don’t see now.”
“Maybe,” Nina said.
“I think Nina has other things on her mind,” Karen said drily.
“Oh yeah, how are things going with Jack?” Robin asked.
Nina shot a glance at Moni.
“I already know,” she said. “Or I assumed anyway.”
Nina had kept her newly rekindled relationship with Jack from Moni, not wanting to make things weird because of Liam. “How?”
“Girl, with all the sneaking around you’re doing, I’d be an idiot not to know. I didn’t know it was Jack, but I figured that’s the only reason you’d keep it from me. Plus last week you came to work wearing the same blouse you’d worn the day before.”
“Ouch.” Nina remembered the day. She’d gone straight to the park after work and then to Jack’s. He’d kept her up most of the night and she’d overslept her alarm and had been forced to pair the previous day’s shirt with a skirt she’d accidentally left at Jack’s the week before.
Moni smiled. “Liam’s my friend, but so are you. And it’s your life.”
“No judging?” Nina asked.
“No judging.”
Nina nodded and looked at Robin. “Things with Jack are good. Surprisingly good.”
“Am I the only one who heard ‘surprisingly hot’ in those words?” Amy asked.
“I heard it too,” Robin said. “Do tell.”
Nina finished her martini and thought about how much to reveal. “Nothing to tell yet. We agreed to ease back into the…”
“Bondage?” Karen suggested.
Nina laughed. “The sex games in general. And we agreed it would be just the two of us this time.”
Tell me there’s no one else, Nina.
“So are you?” Robin asked. “Easing back into the sex games?”
“Not yet, but I think it’s got to happen soon,” Nina said.
“Is he jonesing for it?” Amy asked.
We both are.
Nina left the words unspoken. “I’m getting that impression.”
Jack was a passionate and demanding lover, but their first time lingered between them like smoke. Nina was all too aware of the rope coiled in the armoire, the other toys that likely waited there along with the vibrator Jack had started using on her a few days earlier.
It would have been a lie to say she wasn’t curious to try again, to see what else Jack had up his expensive sleeve.
“And I’m getting the impression that you’re more enthused about his fun and games than you’re letting on,” Karen said.
Nina smiled. “No comment.”
“There’s no shame in it,” Amy said. “Moira and I have two drawers dedicated to toys.”
Robin pushed her chair back from the table. “And on that note, I think it’s time for me to call it a night.”
Nina glanced at her phone. “Same.”
Jack was in Berlin on business. He’d tried to convince her to go with him, but she’d been secretly relieved for the excuse to be alone for a couple of nights. She’d been neglecting Virginia, not to mention her Netflix Watch List.
“Works for me.” Karen shrugged on her coat. “I need my beauty sleep for tomorrow.”
Karen had recently started seeing the CFO of a tech giant who only came into town a couple times a month. She’d been anticipating their Saturday night date since the last one.
Robin got their tab and they split everything up and started for the exit. Their table was occupied by a group of young traders by the time they hit the door.
They said goodbye amid a flurry of hugs and plans to meet for yoga the next day (everyone except Karen, who was spending the day at the salon in preparation for her date).
“You heading back to Brooklyn?” Nina asked Moni.
“Bronx. Angela’s staying with a friend and I promised my mom I’d check on her.”
They walked together in silence until they came to Moni’s subway station.
She leaned in to give Nina another hug. “See you tomorrow.”
Nina pulled away and put a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Jack. It was…” She shook her head. “It was stupid.”
Moni smiled. “I get it. You have to date someone else eventually. I don’t want it to be weird.”
Nina suddenly wondered if Moni had had the same conversation with Liam, if she’d spoken to him at all since he’d embarked on the project that had kept him overseas for the past few months.
“Is Liam seeing someone new?” Nina shook her head as soon as the words were out of her mouth. “I’m sorry. Don’t answer that. It’s none of my business, and it’s not a fair question.”
Moni’s smile was sad. “I love you both. I want you both to be happy.”
Nina nodded.
“Are you?” Moni asked. “Happy?”
“I am,” Nina said.
Even as she said it she was aware that happy was too simple a word for the way she felt with Jack. She was breathless with excitement every time she saw him, lost in the power he had over her body. It was all-consuming, difficult to concentrate on anything but the doors he opened on cravings she hadn’t known she had.
Moni smiled. “That’s all that matters.”
“Thank you,” Nina said.
They said goodbye and Nina continued to the intersection. There was a station for her train a block away and she waited for the light to change, her conversation with Moni echoing through her mind.
Why had she asked about Liam? It would be a lie to say that she never thought of him, but she’d managed to relegate him to a dark corner of her heart, the place where she kept the sadnesses and grief that couldn’t be undone.
You have to date someone else eventually.
It had been Moni’s comment about dating that had caused a wave of desperation to rise in Nina, the thought of Liam moving on and forgetting about her.
And yet she’d moved on, and while she hadn’t forgotten about Liam — would never forget about him — she’d resigned herself to the fact that they weren’t meant to be. He’d been too young and she’d been too confused, and one of those things would never change. More than anyone, Liam deserved love.
It was just better for her if she didn’t think too much about it.
She tightened her coat and crossed the street, her heels clicking on the pavement, hair blowing in the icy wind. She’d just stepped onto the curb when she heard a startled voice say her name.
“Nina? Is that you?”
She turned around to find two women staring at her. They were standing near the front of a restaurant, looking at her with something like shock.
She didn’t place their faces until she got closer, then she remembered: they’d both attended her gym in Larchmont. She knew the blond’s name was Kim but she had no idea about the brunette.
“Hello,” she said, forcing a smile. “How are you?”
“I’m fine… I’m just… wow, you look amazing.” Kim turned to her dark-haired friend. “Remember Nina from kickboxing, Steph? Doesn’t she look amazing?”
“Amazing.” Stephanie’s eyes were wide as she looked Nina up and down. “What’s you’re secret?”
“Divorce?” They looked stricken and Nina immediately laughed. “I’m just kidding, although I did get divorced. I live here now. What are you up to?”
“We finally got tickets to see Hamilton,” Kim said. “We were just catching a bite to eat before we get on the train.”
“Nice,” Nina said. “How was it?”
“It was so wonderful,” Stephanie said. She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I just can’t get over it. The city really agrees with you: you look gorgeous.”
“Thanks,” Nina said. “I should let you catch your train. It was nice seeing you.”
“You too…” Kim’s voice trailed off as Nina turned away.
She hurried down the street, flashing to a conversation they’d once had while waiting for
kickboxing to start. It had centered around children, as most conversations in Larchmont did. Kim and Stephanie had been talking about the bitchy women who ran the PTA when they’d asked Nina where her kids went to school. Nina, feeling unusually defiant about her childless status, had told them she didn’t have children only to see the familiar veil of pity fall over their eyes.
It hadn’t bothered her as much as it once might have, but later when she was in the bathroom she heard them talking about her in the locker room.
“Can you imagine?” Kim had said. “It’s so sad.”
“Totally.” Stephanie’s voice had carried a note of triumph. Nina might not have noticed it if she’d been looking her in the face, but with only her voice, Stephanie’s feeling of superiority was obvious. “I think I’d die without my kids.”
“Oh my god, same,” Kim had said.
Nina had waited until she was sure they were gone to leave the restroom and gather her things. She’d never gone back to kickboxing, getting her cardio in on the elliptical machines or the treadmill instead.
But she’d remembered.
I think I’d die without my kids…
I didn’t die, she thought triumphantly.
And now she heard something else in her mind.
I just can’t get over it… you look gorgeous.
And although her next thought wasn’t very nice, she thought it anyway.
Take that, bitches.
12
“There is no way I can let you buy this,” Nina said from inside the fitting room. She was still staring at the tag on the dress when Jack’s reply came from outside the fitting room.
“Nonsense,” he said “I can do anything I like. Put it on.”
The last was said with the steely undertone that had crept into his voice more and more often in the past couple of weeks. It was a product of his restraint. She understood the restraint was a gift to her, a willingness to forfeit his preferred tactics in an effort to be with her in a more conventional manner.
The Surrender of Nina Fontaine (Awakening Book 2) Page 6