Yes, as the Stones would tell you. Yes, they did.

Then, around one in the morning, sleigh bells had begun to shake along with the entire building when a gravelly voice called out from the side of the stage. “So, tell me, New Jersey—have you been naughty or have you been nice?”

And suddenly Springsteen, the Boss himself, was up on stage.

The first thing he did was let all the die-hards who were “freezing their asses off outside” waiting for a ticket come into the club and “let the fire marshal be damned!” Then Bruce made good to rock the place “all night long”—or at least for another hour—pounding out hit after hit and a version of “Merry Christmas Baby.” A finale of “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town” left every person in the place exhausted but exhilarated.

Rachel had tears of joy in her eyes when she turned and gave Frankel a hug. “Thank you for bringing me here,” she whispered in his ear.

“My pleasure,” Frankel told her. “It was . . .”

“Unexpected,” she’d replied with a smile he knew he would never forget as long as he lived.

About an hour later, Frankel had taken Exit 13 off the New Jersey turnpike in Elizabeth.

There had been a short discussion about heading back to the city but neither wanted the evening to be over. Going back to Rachel’s was out of the question with her father sleeping on the foldout couch. And with Frankel’s Murphy bed being the only piece of real furniture Julia had left him, he didn’t want to force an issue that he wasn’t sure either he or Rachel was quite ready for.

They ended up stopping at a White Castle drive-through and picked up burgers dripping with all the fixings, fries, and the obligatory chocolate shakes.

Then he’d headed up a hill not far from the tiny house he’d grown up in.

At a stoplight, Frankel flipped through his music on his iPhone. He punched a few buttons until Springsteen’s “Drive All Night” poured softly from the speakers.

“Nice,” murmured Rachel.

Frankel had turned the wheel and brought the car to a stop on a small ridge.

“I’ve been coming here since I could look over the dashboard of a car,” Frankel told her. “It might be my favorite place in the entire world.”

He pointed out the windshield—a drop-dead view across the Hudson of lower Manhattan was spread out in front of them.

Rachel audibly gasped at the endless brilliant vertical string of lights.

“I see what you mean.”

“You should see it first thing in the morning.”

“I’m willing to wait if you are.”

Frankel pointed out that dawn was still three hours away.

“Well, we haven’t had dinner yet,” Rachel responded.