I bought a black baseball cap and a matching zip-up hoodie, and in the ladies' room at the airport I changed into my new clothes—pulling the hoodie over the hat to conceal as many curls as I could. If the paparazzi captured my picture tonight, the world would know me only as Tyler's mystery girl. Tyler bought the tickets—two roundtrips to NYC, first class, and there was no going back.

On board, we sat across from each other, in seats designed like cozy cubicles, a fold-away table planted between us. Tyler sweet-talked a flight attendant, and moments later he brought us something to celebrate our freedom. I gazed from a window bigger than I expected, watching the dusty pink skies as we drank champagne the same color. We toasted. Tyler drained his glass, set it on the table, and stood from his seat.

"I'm going to the bathroom. The door will be unlocked." He leaned close, his lower lip between his teeth, a promise in his eyes as dark and sweet as chocolate. "You can stay, and watch the pretty sunset, or you can follow me."

I watched Tyler disappear down the aisle. Then I imagined what it would feel like to really see him walk away—and the decision was made for me. When I opened the door, he turned out the light and I gave my inhibitions to the darkness, where time and space were occupied only by hands and lips...

My heart was still beating just as fast when the flight touched down. Tyler took my hand and led me through the tunnel. We had no bags, and even though it was probably against the rules, we took off running as soon as we exited. Tyler had warned me on the plane—if we stayed in one place for even two seconds, someone would recognize him, and our cover would be blown before we even left LaGuardia.

But we succeeded, making our way from the airport, breathless, but alive, losing ourselves at once to the bright lights of the Big Apple.

***

I was dizzy. And homesick. I hadn't realized how much I missed the city until I was immersed in the steady beat of traffic, saw the navy horizon interrupted by soaring skyscrapers, and smelled the tart, familiar aroma of street foods and exhaust.

Welcome to New York City.

We bought food from a street vendor, and Tyler, who was immediately recognized, wound up singing for our hot dogs. He serenaded the vendor with a popular song from his last album, drawing the attention of a growing crowd. When the song was over, he signed a few autographs on a few napkins and finally, we hailed a cab to Central Park.

Tyler tipped the driver to turn up the music and keep his eyes on the road. He slid close, until only the seatbelt held him back.

"I've been all over the world, Ali—you're still the prettiest fucking thing I've seen." Tyler lowered my hood and removed my hat. My breath caught when he pressed his palm to my cheek, the other hand sifting through my curls. "There are a million reasons why I'm falling in love with you. My favorite, is this." He took my hand and placed it on his chest, where his heart beat in triple time beneath my fingers. The night life washed over his face, but in between the lights and shadows, Tyler's eyes were greener than ever.

"Tyler... wow."

"Wow." His whisper was followed by a kiss that didn't end until we reached our destination.

By the time we made it to the park, the sun was nothing but a thin slice of orange on the horizon. I stepped eagerly from the cab, waiting as Tyler paid the driver, too electrified to stay in one place. I wandered away, towards the park entrance, closer to the sky-high trees waving just beyond the gate. I didn't notice the slight draft, only that the air was pure, sweeter smelling than the forests back home.

Tyler re-appeared, threading his fingers through mine as we headed towards the gate. He walked backwards, the brightness of his polar-white smile rivaling the evening stars.

"It's amazing, Ali. You're gonna love it."

"I already do."

Two park attendants were waiting just beyond the park gates, smiles and bikes in tow. I accepted one with happy surprise, wondering when and how Tyler had planned this, but as soon as the handlebars were in my fingers, the pedals beneath my feet, the world rolling by, I became much more interested in the ride.

In no time, the cobbled paths gave way to smooth pavement, littered with golden-brown foliage. Towering trees with yellow-green leaves lined the avenue, their branches meeting overhead, canopies intertwined like lovers. Streetlights stood guard beneath in stately, uniform rows, their golden-white glow in lovely contrast with the navy twilight. Tyler rode ahead at a fast pace, leaves scattering in his wake. He didn't get very far before he turned back, falling in line behind me, tracing my movements in lazy loops that eventually closed and became a circle.

We followed each other, until I was no longer ahead, and he was no longer behind—we were simply two spokes caught in the same wheel. Around and around and around we went, long enough for me to close my eyes and let intuition be my guide. I raised my hands high in the air, and felt the wind whip past, hearing nothing but the tandem movement of our bikes—the whir of the tires and the tick-tick-ticking of the chains, turning, effortlessly, like they would never ever stop...

Tyler broke free and zoomed ahead, rising from his seat as he threw his head back and let out a whoop. I chased after, gliding so fast my hood flew off, the ball cap staying snugly in place. My curls streamed behind me in the wind, the same color as the leaves that flurried around us. I caught up, sailing past Tyler, letting the speed of our adventure carry me further and faster than I had moved in a long time—with anyone.

We raced, until he caught up, then coasted the rest of the way.

***

Twenty minutes later, Tyler and I walked our bikes along a grassy trail framed with trees the likes of which I had never seen in the Village, or anywhere. The branches were veiled in clusters of purple-white blossoms that floated free with every shift in the wind. They drifted on the air like cottons balls, leaving their perfume on your clothes and skin before fluttering their way to the ground.

Tyler veered right and I followed. We left our bikes at the base of a tree, and once more my hand disappeared in his. I followed him a short way, stepping through a bed of purple-white foliage as densely packed as snow. He stopped at one tree in particular, who was smaller than its brothers and sisters, but whose leaves were oddly bright. Tyler took out his phone, shined the light on the bark, and there it was, surrounded by a heart no bigger than my palm...

Tyler + Ali

4 ever

"After we stopped writing, it was rough for a while." Tyler paused, lifting his face to study the flowers. "One day, I woke up—and decided to come to the park. I skipped every appointment I had—I even skipped breakfast. Astrid was pissed, and my dad. They called me so often I broke my phone and threw it over a bridge. But I didn't care. I just needed some time away, to think. Because I had this fear, y'know, like... everything was falling apart. Olivia died, my parents were getting divorced, everyone had all these expectations for me I wasn't even sure were mine and you... you were..." He trailed off, leaving me to fill in the ugly blanks I had left behind not so long ago. "And then I saw this tree, and I wanted to leave something behind. I had to... In case the dream was really dead."

***

The dream. Our dream. Us, in New York, doing the things we loved, together.

And here we were.

I ran my fingers across the rough bark. The words were brighter than the surrounding wood, the cuts thin but deep. Over time they would fade, but the statement would never be completely removed. It was here, forever.

"If I could have gone with you, Tyler, I would have left in a heartbeat." I sighed. My fingers dropped. "I should have been there for you. If I had known you were dealing with that, I would have dropped everything and gotten on a plane. But, what am I saying—I should have done it anyway. Sometimes I thought about it." I cleared my throat, fighting the undertow that sadness drowns you with. "If I ever made you feel like you were alone, Tyler, I'm sorry. And I'm sorry I stopped writing. I guess it was just easier for me to convince myself that your dad was doing a better job at being there for you."

"Ali, your mom was sick—I knew you couldn't go, and I knew I couldn't ask you. But you're right about one thing—my dad took care of me, alright. Just enough to take care of himself, because that's the only person Pete Moore thinks about. The whole time we lived here, it was like he was the one on tour. Sometimes that asshole thought he was my manager too." Tyler ticked off the abuses, one by one. "It was late nights, early mornings, drunk dad in between. I did everything he asked me to, everything, and he repaid me by taking you away. Bastard." He sucked through his teeth, seething as he jammed his hands in his pockets. "We haven't talked since we came back to the Village. Now I have a good reason to keep it that way."

It was no secret that Tyler had clashed with his father growing up. I still had vivid memories of the two of them shouting at each other in the front seat of their car, Mr. Moore so furious he swerved into oncoming traffic...

"Sounds like you really hate him."

"Maybe I do."

But Tyler was home now. And he could use that time to rectify things, even if I had to pull and push him.

"I get it. Sometimes I hate my dad too." I wrapped my arms around me, shielding myself from the loneliness he inspired. "My dad didn't go to the funeral either, but I guess what made it worse was knowing that I never expected him to. We haven't spoken in years. He might not even know she's dead."

"Wow. Your dad sucks."

"So does yours."

We laughed at the bitterness, and above, our little tree shook in the breeze, spilling its petals in sympathy.

***

We caught our flight home in record time. I was still frozen solid from our adventure, the cabin's warmth settling over me like a comforting blanket as we found our way to our seats. I stopped so abruptly, Tyler nearly tripped over my heels, bumping into me from behind.

On the fold-out table, a vase with long-stemmed roses, and several electric candles, occupied the space between two covered dishes. I took my seat, lifting the lid from my plate and gaped, astonished, at the lobster beneath. Tyler sat down across from me with a smile so delicious I would have gladly traded the food for just one taste.

"See, Ali. I told you we'd be back for dinner."

***