Rachel had said why not. Like Frankel, she hadn’t been ready for this evening to end quite yet.

It took just over an hour to walk the forty blocks to Rachel’s apartment, and Frankel thought it was the most beautiful stroll he’d ever taken through the city.

It was as if Manhattan was putting on a Christmas display just for them. Whether it was giant glistening snowflakes, trees laden with lights and ornaments in every store window or lobby they passed, or Lincoln Center lit up with enough vibrant colors that Santa Claus could see it from the North Pole, it was their own private winter wonderland.

Along the way, they had reminisced about Christmases past, Frankel talking about the yearly trek into the city with his father to Macy’s at Herald Square, where he’d sat on Santa’s lap and asked for things he almost never received. Rachel had told him about some contraption her father brought home that they’d christened Saint Electronick—starting a family ritual that continued years into her adulthood.

It was nearly three-thirty when they reached Rachel’s walkup.

“Thank you,” she’d told him. “That was . . .”

“. . . unexpected,” Frankel had said, getting to say aloud what he’d been feeling for the past few hours.

They stood there awkwardly for a moment before he took a step forward and gave her a friendly but very quick hug.

“Good night, then.” He gave her a genuine smile.

“Good night, John,” Rachel said, returning one of her own.

He’d watched her unlock the door to her building. Then he asked her the other question that had been on his mind the entire evening.

“Will we be telling your father about this?”

Rachel thought about it for a few seconds. She scrunched up her nose. “I don’t think so.”

“Probably a good idea,” agreed Frankel.

He’d asked her what she was doing the following night.

After telling her what he had in mind, he was a little surprised when she actually said yes. “Sounds like fun,” she told him.

And then Frankel realized something else.

He’d suddenly felt happier than he’d been in the longest time.

Later that day, he had kept expecting her to cancel as they’d worked the case that brought them all together. Rachel never brought it up, so Frankel didn’t either. He wondered if she’d forgotten about it or if maybe he’d had one too many and only imagined that he’d asked her out in some kind of drunken stupor.

But shortly before Rachel had left with her father to get him situated at her place, she’d ducked her head into Frankel’s office and asked if they were still on.

It had caught Frankel off guard. “Absolutely,” he practically sputtered.

“I’ll meet you at the corner at eight-thirty like we talked about,” Rachel said.