“Oh. Yes. Of course, how…how good of you. Thanks.”
He accepted the change, and Elise stepped away from him, pointing her body north again, away from him, and Preston sighed internally, simultaneously frustrated and relieved. Frustrated, because he couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted to kiss a girl so badly. Relieved because for all he knew, she would have smacked his face and run away if he’d taken such a liberty after knowing her for less than an hour.
They started walking again, their pace slower than before as Elise admired her flowers.
“This was really sweet of you.”
“Well, you deserve a little celebration,” he said. “You must be excited for Tuesday.”
“I’m over the moon,” she said. Then, with a full, delighted voice, “You know what? I’m gobsmacked!”
“Well, there’s a good British word,” he said with an English accent. His mother was from London originally, so he’d spent an enormous amount of time there whilst growing up.
“Wow! That’s a really authentic accent!” she exclaimed. “It’s hard to get it that good!”
“My mum is British.”
“Is it just you and her?” asked Elise.
“Nope. Me, and her, and my four siblings.”
“Four!”
“Three brothers and a little sister. You?”
“Big family, too. Four sisters, and I’m the baby.”
“Like Jessica,” he said, thinking of his little sister, who was in college in London. He hadn’t seen her in months, and reminded himself to call her.
“Jessica’s your sister, I assume?”
“Mm-hm. Brooks is the eldest, then me, then Cameron, then Christopher, then Jessica. She’s in London with my mum right now. She’s studying modern art.”
“I approve,” said Elise with an efficient nod. “I love modern art. And your dad?”
“Passed on.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugged because he didn’t want to talk about it. “It was a long time ago.”
“Still…”
“And you?” he asked, changing the subject back to her. “One of four sisters!”
“Abigail, Caitlyn, Lillian, and Elise.”
“Little Elise who had big dreams,” he said, nudging her gently with his elbow.
She nudged him back. “Little Elise, who, like little Preston, believed in making her dreams come true.”
“And now look at you! Here you are,” he said, gesturing with wide arms to Manhattan. “On the eve of your triumph!”
“Shhhh!” she hushed him dramatically. “The jinx!”
He lifted an index finger to his lips, trying not to smile.
Shaking her head at him with glee, she stopped walking in the middle of a tree-lined street, leaning against the trunk of a tree across from a brownstone apartment building.
“Ethan Frome,” she said with longing, holding the flowers to her chest and closing her eyes dramatically as she let the back of her head rest against the smooth bark of the tree. “Can you imagine?”
“I can. And I’ll buy the first ticket on your opening night.”
“Promise?” she asked, peeking at him through one eye.
“I do,” he answered solemnly.
Her other eye opened and she lowered her chin, staring back at him intently, the way he might look at something he wanted, but couldn’t have. Her voice was soft and wistful when she said, “Well, I guess I’ll see you then.”
“Then?”
“On opening night, I mean.” She gestured to the stoop across the street from her tree. “This is me. Home. My apartment building.”
“Oh.” Preston looked up at the shabby, nondescript brownstone painted a dull, peeling goldish color. He felt sorry—incredibly sorry—to have to say goodbye to her. He wasn’t ready to watch her walk away.
“Thank you again for the flowers,” she said stepping away from the tree.
“Of course, but, I—”
“And thank you for walking me home.”
“It’s my pleasure. I’d like…I mean, Elise, wait—”
***
“Mr. Winslow,” she interrupted, turning to face him from the bottom step. She swallowed over the sudden and unexpected lump in her throat, and ignored the painful squeeze of her heart. “I have to get ready for the biggest audition of my life in three days…and you have two bar exams to study for. The timing’s just…”
“…shit,” he finished softly.
She nodded. “I was going to say ‘not good,’ but ‘shit’ works too.”
“So this is goodbye,” he said.
“I think it needs to be,” she said regretfully, hoping she wasn’t making the biggest mistake of her life.
He ran a hand through his dark hair, palming the back of his neck as he stared at her, and she somehow knew that his brain was trying to figure out an alternate solution. When he dropped his hand listlessly to his side and sighed, she knew he’d been unsuccessful.
“It was lovely to meet you, Elise Klassan.”