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Standing with his back to the bridge railing, Nick watched as Hannah lifted Jack from his pushchair and into her arms. Moonlight had turned the East River into a ribbon of liquid silk, flowing almost soundlessly beneath them and Nick edged closer to her as Hannah moved towards the railing.
"I love it here at night," Hannah said, shifting Jack's weight to her hip. "I love the lights."
Nick leaned forward against the rail, scanning the Manhattan skyline. Beside him, Jack squirmed against Hannah, his forehead furrowing as he reached for his father.
"Here, I'll take him," Nick said. "Got ants in your pants, buddy?"
Jack laughed as Hannah handed him over and Nick tugged his woollen hat down over his ears. Her hands free, Hannah stepped onto the bottom rail and leaned forward.
"Hannah, I hate it when you climb," Nick said warily. "Don't go past the bottom one."
Turning to smile at him, Hannah stepped off the rail and adjusted Jack's scarf.
"I should probably get him home to bed," she said.
"Already?" Nick asked, glancing at his watch. "It's early. Let's stay a few more minutes."
Hannah sighed, turning back towards Manhattan. Nick watched her as she ran her hands back and forth along the rail before cramming them into her pockets. Six days ago he had arrived on her doorstep, soaked to the skin, not a clue what to say or do. She handed him a towel and offered him her sofa for the night but sent him packing the next morning. Nick had checked himself into a suite at The Marriot and slept most of the day, waking with an empty stomach and a compulsion to call Hannah. She met him in the hotel restaurant where they shared gourmet pizza, talking long into the night before Nick saw her safely into a cab and returned to his suite.
It hadn't taken long for the media to find out where he was staying and, on his third day in the city, Nick saw firsthand the effect of the paparazzi on the uninitiated. Hannah was photographed as they returned to the hotel after a visit to Central Park Zoo with Jack and her surprise was obvious. She instinctively reached for her son, doing her best to shield him from the camera flashes. Fighting his own instincts to beat the photographer over the head with his camera, Nick steered Hannah towards the relative calm of the hotel lobby. She had said she was fine, that she was only concerned about Jack, but Nick knew the attention was unwanted and made her uncomfortable. He hadn't been surprised when she began to reject his suggestions she visit the hotel, instead asking him to meet her in obscure coffeehouses and galleries. On the night the visited the Brooklyn Bridge, he had met her, as she asked, in a small bookstore six blocks from his hotel. They had taken Jack to see the Staten Island Ferries coming and going and made their way to the bridge as darkness fell.
Nick had wanted to take her hand as they stood watching the ferries. He had wanted to lay his hand over hers as she maneuvered Jack's pushchair towards the bridge. He wanted to reach out and touch her now as she stood with her back to him. It would be easy if not for Jack, now sleeping in his arms.
“Hannah?” he said, the obvious rasp in his voice surprising him.
“Yeah?”
Nick cleared his throat and shifted his weight from his left foot to his right, carefully lifting Jack higher on his hip.
“I’ve been thinking... Maybe we could take Jack out to Long Island Sound for a few days... You know... Get away from the city.”
Hannah turned to face him, an eyebrow arched.
“Long Island Sound?” she echoed. “The cottage, you mean?”
Nick hesitated. She didn’t look impressed. Maybe he should’ve thought this through a bit better.
“Only if you want to,” he replied. “I just thought it might be good to get away for a while. I’m sick of meeting you in back alley bookstores and dodging guys with cameras. I just want to be for a few days.”
Stony faced, Hannah remained silent, her mind racing. Weekends in Long Island Sound had been a semi-regular occurrence in the months before Nick left on his ‘business trip’. They had rented the same beachfront cottage for every trip and spent their nights together in front of the open fire. Nick had told her he loved her for the first time as they lay wrapped in a blanket on the sofa, exhausted and bleary eyed. Outside, the wind roared around the weather beaten cottage as Hannah whispered her reply.
Long Island Sound, the cottage with its fireplace and wrought iron bed, was special - almost sacred - and so much had happened since they last visited. The cottage had seemed enormous when she couldn’t get enough of Nick, couldn’t stand it when he left the room. Now, with Jack in tow and Cassie’s constant presence in the back of her mind, it would be overcrowded. But stolen moments in New York City, meeting in gloomy bookstores and grime coated coffeehouses, wasn’t as exciting as moviemakers would have people believe. It was exhausting and unfair on Jack. Truth be told, it was unfair on all of them.
“Okay, sure,” she heard herself say. “Let’s go.”
“Really?” Nick asked.
Hannah nodded as she reached for Jack.
“But you sleep on the sofa,” she finished.
Nick watched as she lay Jack in his pushchair and pulled a blanket over him before turning back to face him.
“The sofa?” he asked. “Hannah, that sofa is awful. It’s too short.”
“It was never a problem before,” she replied, moving towards the end of the bridge. “Take it or leave it, Nick.”
Nick fell into step beside her and pulled the hood of his sweater up, chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully.
“Ok,” he conceded. “I’ll take the sofa. I need a day or so to sort a few things out but I’ll organize the cottage for this weekend.”
Hannah nodded. They were nearing the end of the bridge and she reached for her mobile phone.
“Do you want to come back for a coffee?” she asked, searching her directory for the cab company. “I’m stopping at Joe’s.”
Nick glanced at his watch – 7:35. He needed to try calling Cassie.
“I have to…” he began, catching Hannah’s questioning stare. “No… Coffee sounds good.”
Reaching for his own phone, he held the power button down. The screen flickered and switched off.