I dip my hand into my purse and grab two pretty pink bags wrapped with ribbon. “If sleep is the new sex, then candy is the new wine.”
I give them their gifts from Paris, a mix of Veronica’s favorite sweets from her shop. “But don’t share with the kiddos. Those are just for the moms.”
Nicole clutches her bag to her chest. “Mine, mine.”
It’s only when I say goodbye, with hugs that could go on for days if I let them, and promises to return again soon, that I feel that pang again. That ache that reminds me that I still want a little more.
Actually, I want a lot more.
I stroll up Fifth Avenue. Good thing I changed into flats after my meeting. When I turn into the park, my phone rings.
Quickly, I grab it, and answer the call from my brother.
“Hey there,” he says.
“Hey to you.”
“Do I get to see you again before you leave?”
“Of course,” I say with a smile. “I fly back tomorrow, but I’m free tonight. I’m heading to Central Park now.”
He laughs. “Let me guess. The Conservatory Garden?”
“However did you know?”
“Perks of being the big brother. You learn all the habits.” He clears his throat. “I need to finish something at work, but I can meet you there in an hour and a half. Does that work?”
“It’ll take me time to walk there, so that’s fine.”
When I reach the gardens, it feels like coming home. I breathe in deeply, inhaling the scents of the Japanese lilacs, the purple cornflowers, and the hydrangeas. I grab a spot on a bench by the fountain and savor the sights.
My heart squeezes tighter in my chest. It beats harder. It wishes for someone.
For one person.
Yes, I am happy without him. But I’d be happier with him.
A Scentsual Woman
Blog Post
Today
Cliff-diving in a field of flowers
My lovelies . . .
Here I am in Central Park, inhaling the glory of the gardens. Summer is in full bloom, and all my favorite scents envelop me. I devour the royal purples, the gentle pinks, the blazing yellows, and I drink in the smells of the season wafting around me. This is a flower-lover’s paradise, and when I’m here, I’m convinced it is heaven for the senses.
For the sights, especially, and the smells.
And for the heart. I’ve always felt at home here, ever since I was young. When I visited these gardens, I felt as if I belonged to them. I didn’t feel that kind of belonging again until I moved elsewhere, to another city around the world.
And I felt it one other time too.
With a person—one particular person. It’s only with him that I feel as if my wild heart has come home.
Time to jump off the cliff.
Yours in noses,
A Scentsual Woman
I hit post, and then, with excitement zipping through me, I call Christian so I can tell him to read it. I’m jumpy and restless, but it’s not from nerves. It’s from possibility. Even if he doesn’t reciprocate, even if he doesn’t want the same things I do, I have to take this chance.
For me.
I wait for the phone to connect. It rings, and it rings, and it rings.
Like it’s getting closer.
Footsteps crunch across the stone path, and I snap my gaze their way and drop the phone.
40CHRISTIAN
Her phone hits the path with a clatter. Her eyes widen, zeroing in on me as I close the distance, bend to pick up her mobile, and hand it back to her.
