“YOU KNOW THERE’S, LIKE, eight hundred acres in the Park, right?”
Brendan looked up at her, his brow scrunched up tight. “I don’t know what that means,” he said. Then he shrugged. “But if there’s eight hundred hot dog stands here then I want to come to Central Park every day!”
He took another bite from his oversized dog, topped with onions and cheese sauce. After all, what was a trip to Central Park without a hot dog from a vendor? Mallory had come here several times with her boyfriend. Back before he’d dumped her. Bastard. Anyway, they’d always gotten dinner here when they came. Hot dogs, ice cream treats and sodas. For her, this place had been the best part of moving to New York City.
There were waterfalls and lakes and bridges and trees everywhere. She was used to what nature looked
