He let out a long breath and settled me more comfortably in his arms.
“It’s got one bedroom and one bathroom and is on the fourth floor of an apartment building on 82nd Street. We’ve even got an elevator.”
I smiled. I didn’t care how many elevators it had; I just wanted it all to be real.
“From the top of the building you can see Staten Island and the Statue of Liberty. We can walk along the Belt Parkway Promenade, or ride bikes – people go kite-flying there, too…” he paused. “And the rent is only $1,250 a month, but that’s unfurnished, and we get 875 square feet.”
“So much room.”
I couldn’t bear to tell him that despite the tiny size of the apartment, the rent was still more than twice the amount I currently had in my checking account.
“Yeah, well...” he continued. “But it says it’s near the train and we can walk to Coney Island in about 30 minutes. Oh, and it’s only four blocks from a park.”
“It sounds perfect.”
He sighed. “I almost phoned the rental agency but…”
“Too soon.”
“I know,” he sighed again. “Jesus, Caro. How the hell are we going to get through three more months like this?”
“Because we have to,” I said in a steady voice. “And we will.”
A look of admiration flickered across his face.
“God, I love you!” he said.
He kissed me lightly on the lips but his touch was like an incendiary device going off inside me. I kissed him back deeply, pouring all the angst and fear and passion I could into that one moment, showing him how much I loved and needed him, too.
His body responded immediately and I felt his arms tensing around me.
“Let’s go somewhere,” he said, his voice low and rough.
“I don’t want to go to my place,” I said, a shiver running down my spine. “I don’t know what time David will be back. We can’t risk that.”
“Where is the bastard?” Sebastian spat the words out.
“At a mess dinner.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that: Dad went, too. They’re usually pretty late though,” said Sebastian thoughtfully.
I shook my head. “No, I’d rather go to the beach. Anywhere but home.”
The word sounded like a lie on my lips. It wasn’t my home: not anymore.
“We could drive out to the beach? But it’s pretty cold tonight – no cloud cover. I guess we could stay in the car.”
He sighed. I knew what he was thinking. After the luxury of a bed, neither of us really wanted to revert to an awkward backseat fumble.
“We could find a cheap motel,” he said doubtfully.
“We can’t afford it,” I reminded him. “Let’s just drive out to the beach and…”
“We could go to my place,” said Sebastian suddenly.
“Excuse me?” Had I heard him right?
“Yeah! Dad’s out at that officers’ mess dinner with the asshole. He always stays over: he usually passes out in a bachelor room,” he said, the disgust clear in his voice.
“What about your mom?”
He pointed to the clubhouse with his chin. “Drinking.”
“How’s she getting home?”
“Like I give a damn? Taxi, probably. But she won’t come in my room. She never does: she stopped coming in my room when I was ten.” He paused, his lips curling with contempt. “Anyway, she usually can’t even make it up to their room – she just sleeps on the couch in the den.”
“I don’t know, Sebastian…”
I felt freaked at the thought of being in Donald and Estelle’s house, but now Sebastian had suggested it, I was burning with curiosity to see his room.
“How will I get in without being seen?”
“There’s an empty lot next door and we’ll go in through the backyard. No one will see us.”
He sounded excited.
“Okay,” I said, shaking my head in wonder at what the hell I’d just agreed to.
He grinned at me, a beautiful, wide, beaming smile.