3

"I exist in two places, here and where you are."

- Margaret Atwood

21 days.

It's her first full Saturday in the city, and even though she's relatively exhausted from a long week, she can't imagine wasting the day in bed.

She finally decides to make her way to the Brooklyn Bridge, craving the exercise and the skyline view, the crowd and the energy. She takes her time, meandering through the streets, stopping in stores, and reading restaurant menus as she passes by.

She stops and has coffee and reads through some local events coming up during her time in the city, saving a few ideas for nights after work.

By the time she sets foot on the bridge a little while later, it's late morning. The sun warms her skin and she feels awake and energetic. She makes it halfway across before she stops to really take in the view of the skyline in front of her. It's pretty and intimidating and inspiring, in that specific way that only big cities can be, and it makes her miss home in a real way.

She takes a few pictures and watches the cars below, the pedestrians next to her, before her phone rings. She doesn't need to see his name on the screen to know who it is.

"Sleep in this morning?" She asks, because she knows he'd sleep the day away if he didn't set an alarm.

"Mhmm," he says, and he sounds mumbly, sleepy still, and she knows without asking that he's still in bed. It feels like he's a safe enough distance away that she can let herself think about his normally perfect hair sleep rumpled, his warm, bare chest, and how he's barely awake, but still calling her.

It feels too intimate for a public place, too close to too real to think about when he's not here.

"I'm standing on the Brooklyn Bridge," she says, instead.

"I know you miss me, Hailey, but c'mon, don't jump," he mumbles, the laugh that laces his words deep enough it sends a shiver through her sun-warm body.

"Shut up," she laughs. "Can't get rid of me that easily."

"Good." It's warm and sleepy, and she's going to carry the sound with her all day.

"It's really beautiful here," she says, because it is, in that way cities are pretty from a distance, grid streets and tall buildings that make sense and command attention.

But it's something else too, the sun reflecting off the water and the blue sky, Jay's quiet, sleepy breathing rumbling against her ear.

It's not home, but it's the closest she's felt to it in a week, and she doesn't want to leave this spot or hang up the phone. She glances around at the people stopped and walking and biking by. Couples and families and large groups of friends.

"Hey," she says quietly when he doesn't say anything. "I wish you could see this."

"I can," he says, and her phone beeps against her ear as he requests a FaceTime call. She digs her earbuds out of her jacket pocket and puts them in so she can actually hear him without the phone to her ear as she accepts the call.

And then she has a whole new view.

Because she was right, he's still in bed, his hair rumpled and chest bare. And it's not like she hasn't seen him sleepy, or shirtless, or disheveled before.

But it's the first time she's seen him sleepy and shirtless and disheveled when she's 800 miles away and missing the idea of home more fiercely than she thought possible.

And it makes sense now.

Standing on the Brooklyn Bridge, surrounded by people, looking out over the city - she'd thought she missed home. And she does, desperately.

But home isn't Chicago, or the district, or deep dish pizza or the wind.

Home is Jay, and the way he's looking at her, patient and sleepy and good, while all these things race through her mind.

"Hailey?"

She focuses back in, and she's probably blushing.

"You good?"

She nods.

She's not, though.

"Not that you're not a good view, but you wanna show me what you're looking at?"

She turns the camera so he can see the skyline, and focuses her attention on it as well, but mostly so she can get a break from staring at his face.

"Hey," he says, his voice loud through her earbuds. "What's that tall building?"

She rolls her eyes. "Wannabe more descriptive?"

"You know, the tall one, with the sides, and all the glass. How can you not tell which one I'm talking about?"

She laughs. He can't possibly know, but it's almost like he can sense she's having some sort of emotional revelation in the middle of a crowd of strangers on the Brooklyn Bridge and he's trying to help her out.

He's the cause of it, but he's trying to put her at ease.

"Jay?" She whispers, because she's afraid her voice will shake if she tries to speak up. "Shut up and just enjoy the view."

"Turn the camera back around," he says.

She does, and his sleepy grin greets her.

"Now I can enjoy the view."

She glances away but she's smiling when she meets his eyes again.

"Yeah, me too."

—

She stands on the bridge and lets the warmth from the sun seep into her skin. Jay stays on the phone with her for a while, and they chat some, but mostly she just turns the camera so he can people-watch with her. And it's not the same thing as him being there, at all, but it's nice.

He has to go get ready for the day after a little while, and he stands to drag a shirt on as he gets out of bed, and she really loves technology for these little glimpses at him while she's away.

"I'm gonna go," he says, leaning back into the frame, and it sounds like maybe he doesn't want to as much as she doesn't want him to.

She nods. "Thanks for going to the Brooklyn Bridge with me."

He smiles, that slow one that always warns of something sneakily sweet coming. "You know I'd follow you anywhere."

"Later?" He asks, and it means let's talk later, not should we or can we, because there's really no question at this point.

She nods, and he waves, and the screen goes blank.

She's alone again in a crowd of people, but it feels okay.

—

She wanders around the city for the majority of the rest of Saturday, lets herself stop in little tacky souvenir shops and eat lunch from a street cart and sit and people watch aimlessly. She tries desperately not to think about Jay, shirtless and sleepy and probably warm in bed this morning, picking up the phone to call her before he was even fully awake.

(She tries. She doesn't succeed.)

She's on her way back to the hotel, her feet tired, and feeling relaxed and ready to curl up in bed and maybe nap.

But her phone rings before she makes it there, and she's only a little disappointed to not see Jay's name on the screen, because it's Kristen's instead.

When she answers, Kristen invites her out for drinks with some friends in a little while, and she almost, almost, begs off, because she really is tired. But she's only in the city for a short while, and Kristen is funny and sweet, and she wants to make the most of the experience.

So she agrees and heads back to the hotel to freshen up, with plans to meet at a place a cheap cab fare away in a little while.

So it won't be Molly's with the usual crew. It won't be Jay pressed shoulder to shoulder with her at a crowded table, or his quiet stare over the lip of a glass. It won't be inside jokes or familiar work gossip.

But it'll be fun, and that'll be enough.

—