Adrian's POV
She texted Friday at six.
Saturday. The Met. Ten o'clock. Wear something you can walk in for three hours.
I arrived at ten. She was on the steps already, coffee in hand, watching the street below with the particular patience of someone who wasn't waiting anxiously but simply existing in the interim. She handed me a coffee when I reached the top step without saying anything about it.
"You've been here before," I said.
"Not in five years." She turned toward the entrance. "I used to come alone on Sunday mornings before the crowds arrived. It was the only place in New York that felt genuinely quiet."
"Why the Met today?"
"Because I've been in hospitals and offices and restaurants for six weeks and I wanted to be somewhere that had nothing to do with any of it." She looked a
