The New York Project

8. Moving out

Another tricky setting: a dinner with Robbie's father.

Verdict: it was almost not awkward.

Victoria knew that her lover had tried to postpone it as much as possible; yet he hadn't seen him in weeks, so Robert was becoming relentless. She was horrified when Robbie asked her to come with him. He insisted, a lot, mostly by using his charm, and she caved. As she always did, to be honest.

They met in a very fancy restaurant, near Victoria's office, and they behaved, of course. His father was everything Robbie has told her: severe, hard to please and pungent. Same hair colour and eyes as his only son, he was shorter than him by a few inches.

The young woman nonetheless managed to make a smile emerge on his thin lips a couple of times – in particular because of one sly remark about the gentrification of Brooklyn.

At first, like in the Hamptons a few weeks ago, she feared, or hoped, that he would catch right away that something was odd between them. After all, he was supposed to be this great lawyer, known to reveal secrets and to obtain confessions out of the most tightlipped people. However, they appeared to pass, again, with flying colours. Their bond seemed to be perceived as it was: a bond between two young people rather close in age, with many interests in common, and who had just spent a lot of time together.

The fact that one of these shared interests was losing themselves to one other at night was beneath the point. She was also beginning to surmise that them being an item was so unbelievable that nobody could think of it. They couldn't see what stood right in front of them.

She couldn't decide if it was a good or a bad thing.

***

In that same week, she finally found her flat, just before their parents and Charlotte came back from the Hamptons.

The lovely studio, at the south-east border between Chelsea and the West Village, offered an easy commute for her office in Midtown near Times Square, and the space and light of the main room were decent.

Her lease was set to begin on the last Sunday of August, so Robbie's smile and perfect baggy jeans helped her move out and in.

Baggy jeans that delayed them for a half hour or so, when Victoria threw him on her bed instead of picking up another box.

"Hey! What are you doing?" he asked in a not-so-offended tone.

"You seemed sad earlier that we're not going to live in the same place anymore. So I'm making you feel better. Don't move and don't touch me."

"Yes, ma'am."

She chuckled and began to thoroughly kiss him everywhere. When she took him in her mouth, he emitted a strangled cry.

A few moments later, shaking, he still hadn't moved and was admiring her, on her knees beside him.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. That was amazing, Vee. You're amazing."

"Oh, thanks, but this was just a preview for the real show at my place tonight."

He clicked his tongue and kissed her again.

Perhaps that Sunday evening wouldn't be so bad either.

***

Slumped on the used couch of her new flat, all sweat and crazy hair, they kept staring at the dozen boxes they had just brought in. The sun had almost set and the final light of the day was entering through the large window behind them.

After catching their breath for a bit, Robbie offered her a bag of chips – the first one, and undoubtedly not the last, she will savour here. He then popped open the bottle of champagne Henry had given her daughter to celebrate, poured each of them a glass for a toast and held his aloft.