‘I’ve made you miss it.’
Luke was undaunted. Hanging onto Fiona’s hand, he raced down the last few steps toward the train. He let go of her hand for a second, and leapt, still holding her luggage and the donuts, and was on the moving train. He reached out his hand to her, as the train began to speed up. He was pulling her, forcing to run alongside the train.
‘Jump!’ he cried. ‘I won’t let anything happen to you!’
And so she jumped.
She didn’t think about the consequences or the danger, she just jumped. He caught her, as he had promised, and didn’t let go. They held onto each other, there in the vestibule of the train, panting and wheezing and gasping for air.
Fiona started to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation, which made breathing all that much harder. Then he began to laugh, too, and soon they were gone in paroxysms of hysterical laughter mingled with dyspnoea.
Fiona slid to the floor, and Luke joined her. When, finally, she could breathe enough to speak, she panted, ‘I’m Fiona,’ and extended her hand.
‘And I’m Luke.’ He grinned, taking her offered hand.
He did not let go right away, and Fiona, the laughter gone now, made no move to pull away. They just sat there, holding hands. And looking at one another with a kind of wonder.
After spending nearly eight hundred dollars, including the tip, for her new pixie cut, Hayley decided to go all out. She left the salon and walked down Fifth Avenue to Henri Bendel. In the past this store had intimidated her, but she was on a roll today.
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