Once Upon A New York Minute: Part 2 by Sherry Ficklin

Author:Sherry Ficklin [Ficklin, Sherry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-11-25T16:00:00+00:00

Doctor David

Starving and in desperate need of coffee, we hit a little café first. It’s only a block from my apartment, but it’s got a great view of the river and we scarf down a couple of the best cheeseburgers I’ve had in forever.

“You know,” he mutters around a huge bite, “jelly and coleslaw on a cheeseburger should not work. But it really does.”

“Right?” I say, sitting back and wiping my face. “I’m just glad to have a meal where I’m not trying to remember which fork to use.” Picking up a greasy fry, I drop it in a pile of ketchup before shoving it in my mouth. “On a scale of one to full diplomatic crisis, how bad would it be to serve burgers at the wedding?”

“An eleven,” he says. “Which is really disappointing, if you ask me.”

“You know for someone who grew up in a palace, you’re surprisingly down to earth.”

He shrugs, “My family was never really in the right crowd to worry about it too much. Never a noble, just noble adjacent. So, I know which fork to use, but if I screw it up, no one really cares.”

“Noble adjacent. I like that. That’s how I feel most of the time.”

“But you’re a fancy titled lady now, though somehow I think being an American also buys you some slack.”

“Ah yes, America. Setting the bar for societal graces painfully low since 1776.” I point a fry at him, “But what else would you expect from a country basically created to be the land of misfit toys?”

“Misfit toys? Is that so?”

I nod, “It literally says it on the Statue of Liberty.” I recite a piece of the poem I’d been so mesmerized with the first time I came to the city, “And her name, Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command. The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame. "Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she with silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"”

He folds his arms across his chest, “Wow. It’s all making sense now.”

“What is?”

“Why you love it here so much.”

I feel myself frowning, “I’d ask what you mean but I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know.”

Liam chuckles, raking a hand through his sandy brown hair, “You’re probably right on that count. So this address, is it close by?”

Wiping my fingers on my napkin, I toss it over the last remnants of food on my plate. “Well, it’s relative. Manhattan’s a small island, but its not super close. It’d be a decent walk, or we can train it.”

He lays a hand over his belly, “To be honest, after that, I could probably use the exercise, if it won’t cost us too much time?”

I shake my head, “It won’t be bad. And it’s a nice walk.”

“Good, it’ll probably be all I get to see of the city since His Majesty has demanded I bring you home immediately.

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