Night Changes

11

Harry and I spent our first weekend in New York settling in to our new apartment, doing errands such as filling the fridge and cupboards since Harry wouldn’t stop complaining how hungry he was, and exploring the city. He had been to New York only once before when he was younger, so it was as if everything we did and saw was new.  Saturday morning, after our errands were done, we spent the afternoon in central park, just as I had wanted. We walked the paths, got a hot dog from a vendor, and fed the ducks in the lake with small pieces of leftover bun. For some reason, Harry really wanted to ride the carosel, and after ten minutes of persuasion and promises to take me to a Broadway play despite his dislike for theatre, I agreed. I had to admit it was fun. I had never actually done it before, despite the number of times I had walked passed.

Harry had made a little friend in one of the horses who pulled the carriages along the park, standing there for several minutes patting his nose and talking to him like he could actually understand what Harry was saying. I couldn’t tell who was more amused, me, or the horses owner.

We were both exhausted not long after dinner that night thanks to the time change and jet lag. But that didn’t deter Harry from being forcefully determined to Christen almost every room in our new apartment apart from the linen closet. By the time we finally went to bed, we were both spent, sore and sated.

Sunday I went to visit my old studio…or, more accurately, my new job. Mark assured me there were classes to be picked up, so I stopped in to go over the schedule and see what my options were. Harry brought up yet again the fact that I didn’t have to work while home in New York if I didn’t want to. We were here because of him, and hopefully for a short time. But I reminded him yet again that I was going to pull my weight, and that I didn’t like to rely on him financially, regardless of how much money he had.

Mark was elated that I had decided to return, even if it was only for a few months. We sat in his office for hours, talking about my life in London, what brought me back to New York, and what I had missed in my absence.

“Ryan showed up here a few times after you left,” Mark said, passing over a class schedule for me to review.

My face hardened, my gaze meeting his.

“I didn’t tell him where you went,” he assured me. “But Sophia didn’t know any better. She let it slip about a month or so after you were gone.”

I already knew this, of course. Lily had told me of Ryans attempts to locate me after coming home to find that I had, in fact, left him. His surprise was what I didn’t understand. Did he really think I would stay after that? That I would act as if none of it had mattered and that I could just forget about it? If so, he didn’t know me at all.

What also confused me was the fact he was actually going to so much effort to track me down. At least at the time. Showing up at my work, at Lilys, even at my mothers, desperately trying to find where I had gone. If he had put that much effort into our relationship when we were actually together, maybe I wouldn’t have left in the first place.

“He never showed up,” I explained, relief evident in my voice even to my own ears. “But I wouldn’t expect him to track me down in London.”

“I don’t know, Aubs,” Mark countered. “He was pretty determined when he showed up here.”