Page 46 of Beyond the Spotlight Discreet Version

To avoid morning rush hour traffic, we take the subway down to Battery Park. With the train cars crowded as hell, Lana and I are more like sardines encircled by bodyguards.

We pass the time catching up on life. We talk about her work with the Tyler’s Team foundation. The charity she co-founded helps families going through cancer treatments. Since the release of Rebecca’s book and movie, the foundation has been flooded with donations. She’s been busy helping manage that and doing press appearances.

We also talked about Brad cheating on me. How it was a blessing in disguise because now I’m living a life I could never dream of in New York City.

Tickets for the crown sold out months ago, which is fine by me since I’m scared of heights. Lana had her assistant make a call and name dropped to get us pedestal access, which was also sold out. Thankfully, we don’t have to wait in the long lines, being herded to a ferry like cattle, because Lana rented a private boat to take us to the island.

We follow a sidewalk until reaching the front of Lady Liberty. Lana snaps a few photos of me posing like the iconic statue. Then she has one of her bodyguards take a few of us together.

Next, we walk down yet another sidewalk to the entrance for the pedestal. Tourists are everywhere. My anxiety spikes, but no one pays us attention as they document their core memories. Just as I’m doing.

It’s surreal. I never once believed I’d see the Statue of Liberty in person, looking up at her green stained copper body as if I’m an ant and she’s a giant about to step on me. She represents those who sought freedom and a new life.

My throat aches with tears because this is my life now. I’ve never felt more free.

After taking a few pictures and sending them to Reynold, we head to the statue’s café for lunch. Since there’s not much seating inside, we sit outside. A few times, seagulls tried to steal our French fries. I’m terrified of birds and kept screaming, which put Lana in a giggling fit.

After lunch, we head back to the Upper East Side to pick up Addy.

My phone vibrates with a text.

Hot British Guy

You’re such a tourist

He sends two emojis: the Statue of Liberty and an arm holding up a phone as if it’s taking a selfie.

I bark out a laugh because he’s come so far from his eye roll emoji. Why does that make the butterflies in my stomach stir? Maybe it’s because he’s led a life of responsibility for the past five years. He’s a serious man, but now he’s letting his walls down and showing his true, goofy self.

Me

I love this city! We’re going to the Brooklyn Bridge after picking up Addy

Hot British Guy

She’s never been. She’ll love it

I heart the text but before I put my phone away, he sends another.

Hot British Guy

New York City looks good on you

Heat spreads through my body and spills into my face. I glance at Lana, who surely sees me turn beet red. She’s smirking.

“Okay, out with it,” I say with a sigh, knowing she’s been waiting to ask me this question all day.

“What’s up with you and Rey?”

“Nothing is up with me and Rey.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“He’s my boss.”

“And?”

“And nothing. That’s it.” I shrug.