Chapter 62: Welcome to New York
The taxi threaded through the sunset and finally stopped in front of a neon-lit "Red Lobster" restaurant.
Ethan Rayne kept his word and took Missy to the nearest Red Lobster.
At the sight of the familiar red logo, Missy's eyes lit up and she whistled cheerfully.
"Wow, that's thoughtful, Ethan. You still remember this was my favorite place when I was a kid?"
Ethan opened the door for her, smiling. "Of course. You once swore you'd eat lobster here every single day when you grew up."
Missy lifted her chin, half-serious, half-joking. "Back then I thought this was the fanciest restaurant on earth—somewhere only people on TV ever got to go."
After they were seated, two impressive Maine lobsters arrived. Missy instinctively shrank back. "After all these years, these things are still intimidating."
Ethan said, "The trick is—don't look it in the eye."
Missy froze for a second, then a warm, nostalgic glimmer flickered across her eyes.
Because the first time she'd eaten lobster with her father, George had said exactly the same thing.
She watched Ethan pick up the tools and considerately crack the lobster for her, and drifted into a memory—
Little Missy, hands gripping the table's edge, pressed herself against the back of the chair, staring at the bright-red lobster on the plate.
"This thing is scary," she whispered.
George Cooper beamed like the perfect dad. "The trick is—don't look it in the eye."
Then… "Come on, let's rip the claws off first, like this—"
Crack!
Little Missy's shoulders jumped. "Oh my gosh!"
George said solemnly, "Don't worry, it's already gone to lobster heaven."
"Grab the cracker." Crack the shell.
"Snap the claw." Crack-crack.
"Now pull the meat out… see? Perfect."
Little Missy's eyes shifted from fear to wonder. "Dad, you're amazing!"
"Of course." George placed the meat on her plate. "Dip it in the butter… go on, try it."
Missy cautiously took a bite, her eyes sparkling instantly. "Wow! So this is what lobster tastes like! Amazing!"
George, seeing her delight, couldn't help grinning. "Now that's what I call fine dining, sweetheart."
—The memory faded like the tide receding.
Ethan had already placed the glistening lobster meat on Missy's plate.
She came back to herself, looked down at the meat and said, "I feel like I'm back when Dad cracked lobster for me—exactly like this."
Ethan blinked gently. "So?"
Missy lifted her eyes, puzzled. "So what?"
Ethan kept a straight face. "Say 'Daddy.'"
Missy nearly flung her fork at him. "…Ethan!"
She rolled a classic Missy eye-roll, stuffed the meat into her mouth. "Keep it up and I'll smash this lobster in your face."
"Just kidding." Ethan started to return to his seat; Missy suddenly caught his sleeve. "Don't go."
Ethan froze. "Hmm?"
Missy tilted her head, tone light yet earnest. "Sit with me.
When I was little there was always someone next to me at Red Lobster—now you're… filling in."
Ethan listened, a smile slowly surfacing in his eyes.
"Okay."
He lifted his chair and sat beside her.
"I'm not calling you Daddy." Missy nudged his arm. "But I might consider Uncle Ethan—if you're into that."
Ethan: "…"
Once they sat together, the table lamp cast a warm glow right between their shoulders.
Missy forked a piece of lobster and waved it. "Hmm… feels like something's missing."
"Missing what?"
She narrowed her eyes, drawing out the words: "The feeling… of being taken care of."
Ethan laughed. "Any hints?"
"Hinting that you perform Uncle Ethan duties."
Chin in hand, she teased, "Come on, Uncle Ethan, feed me."
That look made his heart skip, but he still speared a piece of lobster and moved it toward her. "Fine, open up."
Missy did open her mouth.
But—
Instead of biting, she leaned slightly forward, lips brushing the fork with deliberate softness.
She slowly pulled the meat off, tongue briefly grazing the tines—just a feather-light touch, enough to make Ethan's breath catch.
She looked up as if nothing happened. "Mmm, delicious."
Ethan stiffened for two seconds, voice low. "…Missy, please don't do that."
She played innocent. "Don't do what?"
"You know—" Ethan struggled for words, "that… extremely dangerous move."
Missy twirled her fork lazily. "You mean… this?"
She repeated the gesture, slower this time.
"Missy!" Ethan could see she was doing it deliberately.
She chuckled softly. "What? You saw me at my awkward teenage phase; a little flirting like this and you're rattled?"
Ethan drew a slow breath. "Compared to back then… you're ten times more dangerous."
Missy arched a brow. "I'll take that as a compliment."
When they left Red Lobster, the sky was at that Manhattan golden-hour moment.
Ethan suggested, "How about a walk through Columbia? I went to med school here; Sheldon works here now."
Missy nodded. "Sure. Let me see the place you and Sheldon practically lived at."
The campus was so quiet it felt as if invisible walls had locked city noise outside.
Tall oak trees swayed gently; sunlit leaves formed soft golden halos.
Missy looked around curiously as they strolled.
"It's… really beautiful and peaceful," she marveled. "Now I get why movies always make college look like a dream."
Ethan chuckled. "Usually a daydream—during finals it's a nightmare."
They climbed the famous steps of Low Memorial Library, the very heart of campus—wide, bright, open—where everyone sits to rest, sunbathe, chat, or daydream.
Missy sat, looked around, then said,
"Life here… I could get used to this."
"Hmm~" She gazed up at the dome glowing in the sunset. "So free, so young—like life could restart anytime."
Ethan nodded. "It's given plenty of people a chance to reinvent themselves."
Missy paused, then added,
"But—it's also kind of suffocating."
"Suffocating?"
"Everyone's rushing, busy, striving… no one dares stop. Like if you slow down for a second, the place swallows you."
Ethan laughed. "Sounds like you're describing Sheldon."
Missy grinned. "Exactly. That's the vibe—smart, ambitious, goal-obsessed… always racing against something."
She gazed at the buildings, voice soft:
"So it's not just him. The whole school feels like that."
Ethan sat beside her. "Maybe that's Columbia—beautiful, free, inspiring… and pressuring you every single second."
Missy stood, patted his shoulder. "Let's go. No need for more sightseeing.
When I was a kid I could smell the stress Sheldon brought home from this place every single day."
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