Emily lifted up Ezra’s hand and kissed it. On one of their very first dates—the first one after they had lunch together at a deli near the School of Global Public Health—they went uptown to Cleopatra’s Needle and listened to a jazz bassist play while they drank cocktails at the bar. Emily loved that Ezra loved music. And while jazz wasn’t her top choice, she loved how relaxed he looked when he listened, how the music seemed to take over his body, change his mood. And his love of jazz made her love it when she was with him—she hoped their baby would, too.

“Let’s go, then,” Emily said.

It was September, and there was a soft breath of fall in the air.

“I love September in Manhattan,” Ezra replied.

They took the subway up to 86th Street and walked along the west side of Central Park. The trees were just starting to turn golden, and it seemed like the whole city was out enjoying the day. Even taxicabs seemed to honk with good humor instead of anger. The sky felt bluer, the sun brighter than before. Soon they could hear guitar music floating through the trees.

“It’s Saturday!” Emily said. “That Guitar Man is playing!”

Ezra looked at her. “Forget the jazz club?” he asked.

“Forget the jazz club,” she echoed. She loved listening to That Guitar Man, even though it sometimes made her melancholy, sometimes made her think about the life she could have led, the shows she could have played, the people she could have touched with her music. But it also reminded her of falling in love with Ezra. On one of their early dates, the two of them had been walking through Central Park when they discovered a hill full of people listening to a man playing the guitar, singing and dancing with him. They’d joined the group, and Ezra had asked a man leaning against a tree what was going on.

“He’s That Guitar Man from Central Park,” the man said. “Comes every Saturday from May until around October, as long as it’s not raining. The New York Times wrote him up and everything. They called him ‘the most famous person in New York that nobody knows.’”

Then the guitar man started playing a song called “Tom Cruise Scares Me,” and Ezra and Emily were hooked. They spent the rest of the afternoon with the people on the hill, listening and dancing and eating soft pretzels and ice cream from a vendor who was parked close by.

“This is delicious,” Emily had said, dipping a piece of her pretzel in mustard.

“You’re delicious,” Ezra had countered.

“This day is delicious,” Emily added.