Her mom had e-mailed her confirming that Cole was MIA once again. “That doesn’t mean he’s in New York,” Allana said, “but be extra careful, just in case.”

Cole was in New York; Nat could feel his presence. She may have lied to Gabe about the necklace going missing, but she had not lied about her fear and unease. Cole was still obsessed, still angry. Once Gabe knew that Cole had resurfaced and was practically stalking Nat, he would protect her. He would keep her safe.

To kill time, she went to the liquor store and replaced her empty bottle of vodka and bought some Scotch for Gabe. She’d invite him over for a drink before dinner, or a nightcap after. Either one would lead to sex; she knew that. The fact that he still wanted her was made abundantly clear in Violet’s bedroom, and later, in his car at the bus stop. The attraction between them could not be denied, no matter how difficult their circumstances.

When she still hadn’t heard from him at three, she sent him a text.

Where r u?

He didn’t respond.

She tamped down the panic building in her chest and made herself a drink. Just one, but a strong one to settle her nerves, and climbed into the shower. She had a head full of lather when she heard her phone ping, alerting her to a new message. Reaching out to grab the device next to the sink, she read Gabe’s missive.

Sorry. Got held up. How about a walk on the High Line?

The suggestion was sweet and romantic, something a real couple would do. A real couple who needed to talk things through. She dried her hands on the towel hanging on the back of the door and responded.

Come over for a drink first?

He replied instantly.

We can walk up to Hell’s Kitchen, grab one there.

He didn’t want to be alone with her. He couldn’t resist her. It was both flattering and concerning. If they were rekindling things, why did he want to resist her? But they needed to talk, to discuss a way to move forward in their relationship. If they fell into bed together, it would distract them from that necessary task. She texted back.

Meet at the stairs on 20th in an hour

* * *

It was almost seven, still humid and warm, as Nat walked down her street toward the High Line. The elevated pathway with its perennials, grasses, and shrubs was popular with both tourists and locals for scenic strolls. Nat, in a floral spring dress, the diamond pendant glinting at her throat, felt optimistic about this reunion with Gabe. The scene in Sagaponack had been truly fucked-up, but it was behind them. She had done what was necessary to get Gabe to talk to her, to see her, to remedy things. As she neared their rendezvous point she stopped, remembering that her necklace had supposedly been stolen. Releasing the clasp, she removed the jewelry and dropped it into her skirt pocket.