Page 17 of Window Seat for Two
He escaped to the kitchen,pressing against the prep table while staring at the eviction notice. The red stamp pulsed in his peripheral vision, a countdown timer he couldn't stop.
Three weeks totell Nate the truth.
Three weeks to find twelve thousand dollars.
Three weeks to prepare for the look on Nate's face when he realized what he'd fallen for.
The bell rangthroughout the morning, marking neighborhood rhythms. Ari moved underwater, measuring and mixing while his chest tightened. Every glimpse of Nate through his window—bent over his drafting table, coffee steaming—sent guilt spiraling through his ribs.
Mrs. Vasquez arrivedfor her afternoon tres leches cake, settling into her usual window chair with territorial satisfaction.
"You look tired, mijo."She studied him with eight decades of accumulated perception. "Everything okay?"
"Just busy."Ari sliced her cake with mechanical precision, arranging it on Sofia's good china. "How are the plants?"
"Don't change the subject."Gentle authority that probably terrified her children into honesty. "Something's bothering you."
"I'm fine, Mrs. V. Really."
She hummed skeptically—thesound older women make when they know you're lying but aren't ready to call you on it. "That nice boy from across the street was here this morning."
"Nate."His name felt different now, weighted with meaning Ari couldn't examine too closely.
"Handsome. Kind eyes."Mrs. Vasquez took a delicate bite, watching him over her fork. "Sofia always said good things come to those who open their hearts."
The irony closedAri's throat. Sofia had also left him a business drowning in debt, but Mrs. Vasquez didn't need to know that.
"Sofia said a lot of things."
"Wise woman,your aunt. Stubborn, too—wonder where you got that." Mrs. Vasquez's eyes twinkled with mischief that didn't quite mask concern. "Sometimes the best thing we can do is let people help us."
Ari wiped already-clean surfaces.Help required honesty, and honesty required trust—luxuries he couldn't afford when the stakes meant losing everything.
Around three,Nate appeared with a folded paper, expression soft with something that made Ari's chest ache.
"Made you something."He slid it across the counter, suddenly shy.
Ari unfolded it carefully,breath catching. A pencil sketch of last night's rooftop garden viewed from above—string lights creating constellations around herb boxes, the city skyline stretching beyond. There, settled against old cushions, were himself and Nate sharing dinner under stars.
But his ownface in the drawing stopped Ari cold. Nate had captured something there—contentment, maybe. Peace. The expression of someone who belonged exactly where he was. Someone who deserved good things.
"It's beautiful."The words scraped his throat. "You made me look..."
"Happy."Nate's voice held wonder, like he'd discovered something precious. "You looked so happy up there."
Ari's handstrembled studying the sketch. When had someone last seen him like this? When had he last felt like the person in this drawing—relaxed, unguarded, worth capturing?
"I have ideas for more,"Nate continued, leaning closer. "Maybe a series about the neighborhood, how it changes throughout the day. Mrs. Vasquez with her flowers, Jamie at the coffee machine, you with your bread..." He paused, uncertain. "If that's okay. If you don't mind me including you."
Mind being seenthrough eyes that found him worth drawing? Mind being included in Nate's vision of a future stretching beyond next week's rent?
"I don't mind."The understatement of the century.
Nate's smilecould have powered the entire block. "I was thinking we could collaborate sometime. Your baking expertise and my illustration—maybe a cookbook for kids? With that bear character I mentioned?"
Future plans.Projects requiring months, stability, time—everything Ari couldn't promise. The sketch felt like evidence of fraud by omission, stolen hope he couldn't repay.
"That sounds..."Impossible. Heartbreaking. Perfect. "Really nice."
