The Last Phone Booth in Manhattan



When I awoke the next morning curled up next to Adam, who was still sleeping soundly, it all felt like a magical dream. The flash mob. The singing. The perfectly timed shower of silvery snowflakes. (Granted, they were machine made, but still!) It was completely surreal, and I relished the overwhelming and all-consuming sensation of complete happiness. The sun streamed in through a break in the curtains, and I squinted against its light. Soft snow (the real kind) had started falling overnight, and the ground was quickly blanketed in a thin coating of white.

I (silently and spastically) gave a little excited shimmy in celebration, and there was a cramp building in my cheek muscles from smiling so hard for so long. I nuzzled back down into the covers and nestled against Adam. My forever. I glanced over at him and lifted my left hand once again to marvel at the enormous engagement ring now weighing down my finger. And yes, the ring was a stunner, and yes, it probably cost more than most people earn in several lifetimes, but it was so much more than that. This ring was all I needed to know that Adam considered me and our future together his number one priority.

I breathed in slowly, drawing the scent of Adam’s intoxicating cologne up through my nostrils in a steady stream of warm air, the fragrance fresh and clean. I laid my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, the rhythm steady and soothing. It was like the persistent tick of an old church clock marking time for all to hear. In each beat resounded the echo of the laughter of our future children, the hammering of new construction on our first house, all our days to come. Security. Comfort. Love. Everything I could have ever wished for was curled around me like a cocoon. I stroked a hand up his chest through the soft blond curls that were almost translucent in the morning light. He moaned against my touch and rolled over to tuck me under his arm.

“Good morning, fiancée,” Adam said, and enfolded me more tightly into his broad chest.

“I love hearing you say that,” I said, and lifted my chin to press my lips hard against his. Pushing up, I rolled myself on top of him, his body warm and inviting beneath me.

He reached up and played with the hair at the nape of my neck, drawing me down to him for another kiss. He wrapped his arms around me, and between kisses, I stroked his face and he nibbled at my neck.

Mid-nibble, he eyed the clock and groaned. “Ugh, I didn’t realize how late it was. I have an important meeting with some investors who are only in town for the weekend. I told them we could meet today since yesterday we were kinda busy.” He smirked at the understatement.

“Seriously?” I pushed off his chest to sit up, my legs still straddling him, and puffed out my bottom lip. “But it’s Christmas. How long will you be gone? All day?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll try to scoot through it as fast as I can, okay? We can celebrate all the holiday festivities when I get home and allllllll day tomorrow. And the day after that, and the day after that . . . I mean, we have forever,” he purred in an attempt to assuage the disappointment growing across my face.

But my expression remained unchanged—pouty and frustrated. “I don’t understand. You really have to do this now?”

He sighed and hopped out of bed. “Wait here, I’ll be right back,” he said, darting from the room. Moments later, he returned, pouncing into the plume of sheets. “I wasn’t going to give these to you until tonight, but I think I need to pull my ace in the hole now,” he teased. “I planned us a little New Year’s Eve getaway across the pond to celebrate our engagement.” He flashed two paper tickets like a magician showcasing his latest illusion.

I popped up to my knees. “London?! For New Year’s?! Are you serious?” I squealed until I realized that we had made yet another set of plans we’d need to reschedule with my parents, a trend that was unfortunately all too familiar. But they’d understand. I mean, it was London for New Year’s!

“Annnnd, there’s more.” He knelt to face me. “We have box seats for New Year’s Day to that hit show Marley Is Dead playing on the West End. You wanted to see that one, right?”

I pulled my hand away from over my mouth. “But how?! The run has been completely sold out and is rumored to be so for months.”

“I called in a few favors,” he said with a nonchalant shrug, like it was no big deal that he managed to score tickets to the hottest show in London. Marley Is Dead was a modern take on A Christmas Carol, featuring a female lead and a revolutionary score. The rumor was that the musical would be making its way to Broadway, but nothing had been announced yet. It was the type of show I used to dream about performing in, but that was before I set my acting career aside to settle into my amazing life with Adam.

“I don’t deserve you.” I leaned into him and wrapped my arms around his neck.

“Right back at you, kid.” Bringing his mouth down to mine, he tightened his grip on my waist and drew me close. My heart pounded against his chest as I melted into the kiss, his hands making their way into my hair and trailing electrical currents along my body. All too quickly, he pulled away, settled one last kiss on my tingling lips, and then climbed out of bed. “I’m going to hop in the shower. The faster I get downtown, the faster I can get home.”

My eyes trailed his footsteps, the swirls of flurries in the gray sky behind him flashing into my line of sight, reminding me just how cold it was out there and how lucky I was to be staying in here. “Want me to make you some coffee before you go?” I offered.

“No, it’s okay. Go back to sleep. Enjoy a lazy Christmas morning in bed. I’ll grab coffee on my way. We can open all the presents Santa brought when I get home.” Adam smirked and disappeared into his walk-in closet to pull out a suit still draped from its hanger. He placed the clothes on a wall hook by the bed.

“My God, there’s more?” I called after him. Even after almost six years together, I still couldn’t get used to Adam’s over-the-top generosity. But Adam felt he worked hard to provide us with a certain lifestyle. He was proud of his success and could never understand why I was still sometimes overwhelmed by that level of extravagance.

I lay there admiring my engagement ring as it winked at me in the morning light. The platinum band spun around my finger with a bit too much ease, and out of an abundance of caution, I slipped it off and into a glass on the nightstand. Better to get it resized than to, God forbid, lose it.

Hearing the ring clink into the glass, Adam turned, his expression sour. “What’s wrong? Don’t you love it?”

“Of course I love it! Are you crazy? The band’s just a little big, and with the cold, I should probably go get it sized so it doesn’t fly off into the snow.”

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