"Yes, please." She extricates herself from my arms and stretches with a happy squeaking groan. I groggily stumble out of bed and head for the coffee maker.
Brooke doesn't move; she just rolls over and gazes out the window. I must admit, it's a pretty stunning view. The High Line trail snakes alongside the building and disappears out of sight. The city that never sleeps buzzes on the streets below, illuminated by the chilly morning light.
The only thing that perks her up is the burbling of the coffee machine and the scent of roasted beans floating through the air. I grab out the brown sugar and milk, just the way she likes it. I double up and pour myself an identical cup. We sit together in comfortable silence, sipping our respective drinks and watching the frozen outdoor scene.
I never want it to stop, but we have a mission for the day. "When do we need to go to Inwood?"
"Oh, let me check." She looks around the bed. "Do you, uh, know where my phone went?"
I grin. I plugged it in for her after she fell asleep. She thanks me after I retrieve it from the kitchen, which is where the most accessible outlets are located. She scrolls through her text thread with Darrell and taps the address into her maps app.
"The party isn't until two this afternoon, but it'd be good to drop the goods before then. One less thing for Darry to worry about. Plus, that gives us more time for the Cloisters." She smiles and clicks her phone screen off again. "Breakfast?"
I happily agree. Once we finish up our coffees and morning-time grooming, we head downstairs to the kitschy café on the ground floor. I haven't had the mind to check it out before, but it turns out to be a lovely spot. I have to hide a smirk when she orders her usual breakfast fare—Belgian waffle, powdered sugar, strawberries, and maple syrup—but she laughs out loud when I ask about the protein content of their vegetable omelet.
"Sorry!" she cackles. "It's just such ayouquestion."
"Force of habit," I reply sheepishly. Turning to the unimpressed server, I grimace. "I'm sorry. It's fine. It's eggs—they're basically made of protein."
With our orders secured, she folds her hands together and grins at me. "What if the chickens aren't yolked enough?"
I cough into my water glass. "Jesus—what?"
"Y'know… the protein, eggs… gettin' yolked… get it?" She dissolves into raucous giggles, earning her concerned glances from the tables around us.
"Oh, my god," I groan into my hands. Buff chickens. Jesus.
Getting the cupcakes on the subway is a little harder than I expected, but we manage to secure the boxes and not take uptoomany seats. Fortunately, not many people are heading to the northern tip of Manhattan on a Sunday afternoon. We had to switch trains once—which was more than enough.
But when the train emerges from the underground track? Wow. I can only imagine how beautiful the tree-lined streets must be in the spring and summer. My stomach plummets as I realize I won't be here to see that. I'll be back in Chicago by then.
"Okay, so Jerry is going to meet us at the train stop to help with the boxes," Brooke announces.
"Jerry?"
"Darrell's husband." She grins. "Darry and Jerry. It's cute, right?"
"Darrell and Gerald, long-form?" I smile. "Thatiscute."
"You'll love him. And he'll stick out of a crowd—he'smassive. Like, you know how kids tell each othermy dad can beat up your dad?Jerry is the epitome of that. Though he would never. I think." She frowns in concentration fora second. "Maybe? If someone gave Fiona shit, Jerry coulddefinitelyintimidate the other parents, at the very least."
"Should I be intimidated?"
Brooke giggles. "Nah. Unless you're going to cause problems with afive-year-old. On herbirthday."
"Brooke. I would never, and I cannot stress this enough, never,evercause problems for a five-year-old birthday girl." I school my face into a serious expression.
"I know. Hey, look! We're here!" She pops up and gathers as many boxes as she can grab before I get to them. The train shudders to a halt, and we pile out into the very above-ground, very freezing cold train station.
"Brooke!" A giant of a man with flaming red hair waves his hand above the small crowd. "Over here!"
"Jerry!" Brooke squeals and scampers over. I follow as best I can, but good lord, she is fast.
"Hey! Thank you guys so much—who's this?" Jerry looks me up and down with a slight frown.
"This is Dustin—we've known each other since high school." Brooke grins and looks up at me. "He's helping."
"This wouldn't be the same Dustin from Atmosphere, would it?" Jerry squints at me, and I try to give him an easy smile. "Darry didn't mention you two knew each other outside of work."
