“You want a photo with it?” Nick asked. He took one picture for every three hundred that I did. I shuffled in front of the view and held out my fingers, like I was pinching the air.

“Does it look like I’m tweaking the top of it?” He moved the camera a bit higher, told me to move a bit left, and then said, “Uh-huh.” Nailed it the first time. We then did photos with me leaning on the Empire State and pretending to stir the river. Comedy gold.

It wasn’t till we were down that I realized he’d been teasing me, and I was miles off in each photo, grinning like a clueless sausage, while doing poses that made no sense.

“Sorry…” Nick looked apprehensive. “But you did say you wanted something unique?”

And they certainly were—in fact, they were hilarious. I loved them and sent some to Ruby and Fred, who I knew would enjoy laughing at me from afar.

Back at ground level, it was so freezing that we ditched my original idea of walking over the Brooklyn Bridge and instead started strolling down to the market at Union Square. It was far, but there were shops and coffee shops to dive into along the way. I spotted a cool one with homemade Christmas decorations and saw the perfect thing for Colin and Mum. It took a while to get done, so Nick waited outside for me. When we met back up, he asked if we could take a little detour. But no plan meant it wasn’t a detour, just a tour, so we walked around the corner to stand outside what looked like a derelict building, “Houston & Beats” painted above the big window in white paint.

“And this is…?” About to be demolished? The scariest place we’d seen so far? The set for a film about the end of the world?

“Where Au Revoir Hairs just got asked to play!” Nick looked dead chuffed.

“What? It’s open?!” Was the exact response I didn’t manage to stop coming out. He looked a bit hurt. “I mean…” Could I dig my way out of this? “This very second? For us to go in?” Big finish. “I would LOVE to see you play here!”

“They’ve asked for Christmas Eve.” Nick was peering in, grinning at the empty stage. “Last minute. But don’t worry. I’m not expecting you to choose the Hairs over Harry Styles!”

He laughed, but he had no idea what I was really thinking.

That actually it was a tough choice—because these last few days, I’d seen less of the grumpy Nick I’d heard about and more the one that Elle kept describing from Nashton.

“Holly…?” Uh-oh. He’d caught me giving him a funny look.