Page 51 of Pride & Precedents

"Itisa nice out…If that's what you want, sure. Let's do it."

We push past Radio City Music Hall and walk until the tiny blue cart appears on the corner. There's a line—of course there's a line; it's delicious!—but it moves quickly, and when we walk a few more blocks to Bryant Park, we luck out when a couple leaves their table right as we arrive.

"Jackpot," I say, and Henry helps me spread out our food on the small, iron table.

After our late afternoon lunch, we wander around Manhattan, laughing and people-watching until the sun gets low. Under the Climate Clock in Union Square, Henry turns and gives me a kiss, right in the middle of the sidewalk. Passersby grumble about the inconvenience, but I barely hear them over the pounding in my chest. The kiss is sweet, almost chaste, but his hands snake around my back, squeezing me tight against him, communicating more than words can. He wants me.

He steps back and sighs, looking resigned.

"What's wrong?" Henry kisses me again, and then pulls me across the crosswalk to sit on the Union Square steps.

"I don't want to go, but I have to get back to Westchester. Prep for the week, you know?"

Idoknow, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hoping he'd stay over again. I run my thumbs across the back of his hand.

"It's totally cool. I have to study tomorrow, anyway."

We lean into each other and watch the breakdancers take turns defying gravity in the chaos surrounding them. Even though it's mostly for the tourists, there's always magic in Union Square. Like you're in the best part of a romantic comedy, about to kiss the man of your dreams.

When Murray pulls up, I feel a strange sensation in my chest that I try to ignore. Something warm and fluttery. On paper, nothing's changed between us, but I can't help but notice how right it's felt, just talking and…beingwith Henry all day. He's tender, he's decent, he's funny, he's fiercely devoted to his family.

And I'm fucked.

Chapter twenty-one

Henry

Noah

Noah:C'mon, bro. How much longer are you going to keep ignoring me?

Noah:I said I was sorry!

Noah:I'm really REALLY sorry! That stuff about Camila just slipped out when we were playing pool and Cory just can't help being an asshole.

Noah:Between you and me, I'm a little worried about him. Something happened with him and Maya (I don't know what), and now he's even douchey-er than normal.

Noah:Is that a word? Douchey-er? That doesn't look right.

Ishake my head at Noah's rapid-fire texts. He's been sending them nonstop. I had to silence my phone when I was out with Camila, which apparently he took as a sign to textmore. I scroll through days of unanswered texts since our big blowout and can only sigh. I'm going to forgive him—we're family, after all—just…not yet. The sting of Cory's words, of Noah's betrayal of my confidence, is still fresh.

I put my phone face down on the desk and think of her for the hundredth time today.Camila. She's fierce and sweet and so fucking hot my mouth waters just thinking about her. It was so hard not to touch her when she came in this morning, remembering how easily her fingers intertwined with mine on our walk through the city. It felt good. It felt…right.

My penchant for casual affairs is well-known and I've never felt the need to apologize for it. All the women I was with knew it was transactional. Our assistants would sync our calendars, we'd meet for a nice meal, we'd fuck at my place or theirs, and, if our schedules lined up again, we'd do it again. No holding hands. No deep conversations. No one had ever even slept over.

The truth of that had hit me like a ton of bricks as we passed Bryant Park after lunch. Before Camila, I hadneverspent the night with a woman, not even Naomi. And not only had I spent the night, I'dslept. I thought back to that first night with Camila, the first time we kissed. I slept then, too. Though a fair amount of alcohol was involved, I think I always suspected it was more than that. Better to cut it off before things got too real. Of course, I couldn't even do that. My feelings for Camila—and there most definitely are feelings,bigones—were growing even then. Some part of my subconscious knew; it had just taken me a few extra weeks to figure it out.

When I realized, I didn't react. I kept walking, kept talking. Didn't let on that while it seemed we were both strolling down Sixth Avenue, I suddenly found myself in unknown territory.The usual rules no longer seem to apply. Maybe they never should have to begin with.

The beep of the intercom cuts into my reverie.

"Mr. Park?"

"Yes, Camila?" I answer, cursing myself for my informal greeting. I can't afford to get sloppy just because my heart's started to feel a little funny.

"Um," she falters. From the tremble in her voice, she noticed my slip, too. "Ms. Watanabe is in conference room C for your two o'clock. Would you like me to join you?"

I'd love for you to join me, but I'm this close to bending you over and having my way with you and I don't think the client would appreciate being billed for that.

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