Warner Park

✨ Chapter Eighteen | New York

— Vince —

Andrew Parker... Goddammit, that amazing man was everywhere I went. It felt like the universe was taunting me, forcing me to confront just how deeply he'd embedded himself into every corner of my life.

I thought I'd be fine, thought I'd adjust. I just needed to get through these two weeks, fourteen measly days. But Andy? He was everywhere.

He was in the Toy Story reel playing above the Disney store on Broadway, making me laugh all over again about the stupid jokes he made when we first met. He was in the sharp lines of the city's architecture, the library that was everything he said it would be. He was in the way the morning sky looked when I ran alone in Central Park, wishing like hell he was beside me like always.

I missed him.

It had only been five days, and I was already unraveling. I tried to remind myself that this trip was important. My career was important. But the truth was... nothing felt as important as Andy.

That man was my heart.

I could still see his face from the airport, the way he smiled at me through his tears, trying so hard to be strong. He told me he was proud of me, said I deserved this, that everything I'd worked for was finally paying off. He didn't have to say he'd miss me; I already knew.

I walked away from him, got on that plane, and cried like a goddamn baby during takeoff. Silent tears, my hand covering my face while I prayed no one noticed.

The older woman sitting beside me did.

She reached over and held my hand without saying a word. It was such a kind, unexpected gesture that it only made me cry harder.

I was a mess. A hopeless, bleeding-heart mess.

Andy was right, this trip was good for me. For us. But Jesus, it felt like someone had taken my heart out of my chest and left it back in LA.

"Dad."

Tina's sharp voice cut through my thoughts, yanking me back to the crowded restaurant.

I blinked at her. "What?"

She sighed heavily, her arms crossed. "I said I want the ahi salad, but you're staring into space like a war vet having a flashback."

Before I could respond, Malia leaned over to Tina, stage-whispering, "Dad's losing it. I think he's going through menopause."

I groaned, lowering my head to the table. "You're fucking unbelievable. How am I losing it?!"

Malia smirked, her phone already in hand. "You've been spacey since we got here, Dad. You cried when Tina dropped her hotdog down the storm drain on the way to the subway yesterday, dude. You're fucking losing it. Something's obviously up with you."

Tina snorted, not bothering to look up from her phone.

"It was a waste of a perfectly good hotdog," I muttered defensively. "And maybe it's your goddamn obsession with me that you should be worried about, not the other way around. Mind your business, Malia."

She laughed to herself, clearly not buying it, but dropped the subject. For now. I knew she'd probably text Andy about the hotdog incident already. Great.

I needed to tell them about him. About us. But every time I worked up the nerve, I chickened out.

Tina slammed her phone onto the table dramatically. "David hasn't commented on my Snap, and it's been, like, five minutes."

"That's because he's a loser," Malia said without missing a beat. "And you're too young to have a boyfriend anyway."

Tina glared daggers at her sister. "I'm sixteen, you moron. Not twelve."