We stepped out of the gallery into afternoon sunshine that felt warmer than when we'd gone in. The city had that golden quality now—the light softer, shadows longer. Late afternoon bleeding toward early evening.
"The park's this way," Miles said, pointing down the street. "About ten blocks. Too far to walk?"
"I'm good. These heels are surprisingly comfortable."
"Liar. All heels are instruments of torture."
"How would you know?"
"I had a girlfriend freshman year who made me hold her heels, and wore my shoes while i walked barefoot home from parties." He grinned at the memory. "She said it built character. I said it built resentment."
"And yet you dated her."
"For three whole months. A record at the time." He laced his fingers through mine as we started walking. "What about you? What'
