Chapter 22

Henry

Outside of my window, a metal clanging floats in through the open window, a noise I don’t immediately recognize. Living in New York, it could be anything. Probably just a garbage truck. I ignore it and keep sculpting. I close my eyes for a moment and center myself, allowing my recent isolation to fade away.

I think about a childhood memory of baking apple pies with my grandmother and the way she always used to smile at me. I think about the first award I won for my pottery and how proud I felt on that day. I think about the first time I saw Meadow and felt love in my heart the moment I looked into her eyes.

I hear the noise again. It’s much louder this time. Turning toward the window, I shout, “Keep it down, would you?” Irritated at being distracted, I walk over to the stereo and turn my music up even louder.

Just then, I hear Verdi mewl at the top of her lungs. I immediately look to all the places she favors, but she isn’t there. My heartrate kicks up a notch. “Verdi? Verdi?”

I hear her again. Her frantic cries sound like they’re coming from outside. I hurry to the window and find it slightly open. Not wide but probably wide enough for a curious girl watching birds to squeeze her way through. I curse myself for not closing it all the way. I’m almost afraid to look. I will be crushed if anything has happened to her.

She’s literally the last thing I care about. The last thing I haven’t lost.

I see Verdi teetering on the edge of the fire escape, just out of my reach. If I try and grab her, she could just go on instinct and try to run from me, losing her balance and falling to her death. If I lose Verdi, I don’t know what I will do.

A creaking noise breaks through the blood rushing through my ears. I look down and see a manicured hand, tense with white knuckles barely hanging on to the fire escape stairs. All the breath escapes my body since I’d recognize that hand anywhere. The rest of her appears, and just as I though, it’s Meadow. She’s wearing a pencil skirt hiked up to her thighs and a pair of stilettos.

What the hell?

Down below, two of the teenage boys who live in the downstairs loft point up her skirt and smile. But there’s nothing to laugh about. If Meadow loses her grip, she will fall eight stories to the concrete below. Her chances for survival would be slim.

“Oh my God!”

Fear propels me forward, urging me outside. I chase it away with a hard no. Even though terror licks at every cell, I have no choice but to jump into action.

I can so fucking do this.

If I could produce a cape and a unitard with an “H” symbol emblazoned across my chest, I would. But a t-shirt and khakis will have to do for this rescue. I open the window wide and slowly step out onto the fire escape. The whole thing wobbles and creaks a protest under the burden of my two-hundred-pound frame. Christ! What if we all fall?

No, none of us are going to fall. Not on my watch. No one is ever going to doubt me again, least of all, myself.

I slowly approach the edge of the fire escape. With each step, it creaks and wobbles. Meadow looks up at me, her eyes wide with terror. I have to save her and Verdi, who screams like a cat possessed. I inhale and draw my courage around me like a bubble of protection. With one more deep breath, I extend my arm as far as it will go. Meadow clasps her small hand in my large one and hangs on for dear life. With a strong tug, I pull Meadow and Verdi up on the platform of the fire escape. As I feel the adrenaline rush through me, I realize I’ve done it.

I saved them both.

Me.

Slamming the window open as wide as it will go, I spin around and envelop them both in a monster hug. Meadow carries Verdi into the loft, and I follow them inside. Just as I step onto the window sill, the fire escape stairs collapse. Outside, the laughter of the teenage perverts turns to screaming their fool heads off, and they dodge the falling metal just in time.

My landlord will be getting a letter from me very soon. Two grand rent hike, my ass.

When I get in the loft, I shut the window and take Meadow and Verdi into my arms again. I look at Meadow. “You saved my cat.”

She tries to smile, but it’s more like a lifting of the corners of her mouth. “You saved my life. You’re my hero.”

“I’m no hero, I just–”

She jumps into my arms and kisses me before I can say another word. It feels so good, I never want her to stop. I curse myself for being a dolt.

“What was that for?” I run my fingers through her hair.

“For being America’s most bad-ass potter. You’re like Superpotter!”

“What are you talking about?”

She takes a deep breath and unzips her purse. “I thought my Prada bag was a goner along with the rest of me.”

I nod. “And I’ll have to give those teenagers a piece of my mind. They should have been calling for help instead of trying to get a peak of your–”

“Never mind that, Henry. It’s over.” She pulls out a newspaper clipping. “Besides, I’m wearing a thong. What could they see?”

I shake my head because they could see her entire ass. And that ass belongs to me. “If it has anything to do with Greg Silverman–”

“Just read it.”

My eyes narrow into slits. “The last time you gave me something to read–”

“Henry, please.”

I take a deep breath and brace myself for the worst. Did this Silverman asshole write another bad review about me? This guy really needs to get a fucking life already.

As I unfold the newspaper, I’m amazed to see a full-page, color advertisement of me working on my vases, filled with candid photos that Shannon took. They look awesome. I can’t help but smile. But a full-page ad in the Sunday Times? This must have cost a literal fortune. More than most people’s annual salary. After this, I know she truly cares about me.

“Thank you, Meadow.” I struggle to tamp down my emotion.

“You deserved it. By the way, the response to your work has been amazing. The phone at Pathways has been ringing off the hook. In addition to the pieces we sold the evening of the showing, there’s now a bidding war going for the remaining four and a wait list for anything else you’ve got in production. Edna’s leading the charge. You charmed her socks off because she’s firmly in your corner.”

Joy niggles at my chest. Can this really be happening after everything? “Really?”

“Not to mention, a certain Greg Silverman is no longer employed at The New York Times.”

My jaw drops. “They fired him?”

“It’s been all over social media. He was exposed as a liar and a hack after he said your work looked commercially produced. Apparently, he went to your college and wanted to be an artist himself. He couldn’t make it, so he hates you because of your success in his medium. He even assaulted an art professor there.”

I vaguely remember hearing something about that years ago, but never made the connection. The lengths that Greg Silverman went to for revenge against someone who wasn’t even his enemy floors me. “I can’t believe this. And it’s all because of you.”

She winks. “Your talents had a lot to do with it.”

“And by the way, I wasn’t kidding about you being the most famous potter in the country. Everyone has been raving about you online. If you haven’t checked your e-mail today, you probably should. I would be willing to bet you have orders in the hopper from your website.”

I give her a big hug. “Thanks for always believing in me, Meadow. And… and… I just wanted to say I’m sorry for the way I–”

She presses a finger to my lips. “Shh… don’t worry about it. No need to apologize.”

Verdi squeezes in between us. I look down at her weaving in and out of our legs with expert and limber precision. “And you, don’t get me started on how you scared us all to death.”

Verdi purrs as Meadow and I share a laugh. It feels so good to be back in her presence. Holding her. Loving her. I’m still amazed at how she went out of her way to save my career from the brink. She even risked her own life to save my cat. How could I not be hopelessly in love with this woman?

Still, I keep my mouth shut and just enjoy the moment.