Chapter 62 – Welcome to New York
The taxi wove through the streets under the glow of the setting sun, finally pulling up in front of a neon-lit Red Lobster.
Ethan had kept his word—he'd taken Missy to the nearest Red Lobster he could find.
The moment she saw the familiar red sign, Missy's eyes lit up. She let out a light, cheerful whistle.
"Wow. You put some thought into this, Ethan. You still remember this was my favorite restaurant when I was a kid?"
Ethan stepped out first and held the door for her, smiling as he motioned her inside.
"Of course I remember. You swore back then that when you grew up, you'd come here every day to eat lobster."
Missy lifted her chin, half serious, half teasing.
"I really did think this place was the most luxurious restaurant in the world—
like the kind only people on TV were allowed to go to."
After they sat down, two aggressively posed Boston lobsters were brought to the table.
Missy instinctively leaned back in her chair.
"After all these years… this thing is still terrifying."
Ethan said calmly, "The trick is—don't make eye contact."
She froze for a split second.
Then something warm and nostalgic flickered through her eyes.
Because the first time she ever ate lobster with her father, George had said exactly the same thing.
She watched as Ethan picked up the tools with practiced ease and began helping her crack open the lobster, careful and attentive. Before she realized it, her thoughts drifted—
---
Young Missy, gripping the edge of the table with both hands, pressing herself firmly against the back of her chair, staring at the bright red lobster on her plate.
"This thing is scary," she whispered.
George Cooper laughed, every bit the doting father.
"The trick is—don't make eye contact."
Then—
"Alright, first we pull off the claw. Like this—"
Snap.
Little Missy jolted. "Oh my God!"
George said solemnly, "Don't worry. It's gone to lobster heaven."
"Now grab the tools."
Tap. Crack open the shell.
"Split the claw."
Crack, crack.
"And then you take the meat out… see? Perfect."
Little Missy's eyes shifted from fear to awe.
"Dad, you're amazing!"
"Of course," George said, placing the meat onto her plate. "Dip it in the butter sauce… here, try it."
Missy took a cautious bite. Her eyes instantly lit up.
"Wow! So this is what lobster tastes like? It's incredible!"
George couldn't help smiling at her delight.
"This," he said warmly, "is what you call fine dining, sweetheart."
---
The memory receded like a tide pulling back.
Ethan had already placed the freshly cracked lobster meat onto Missy's plate.
She came back to herself, looked down at it, and said softly,
"I feel like I'm back at that moment, eating lobster with my dad. He opened it for me the same way."
Ethan blinked gently. "So?"
Missy looked up, confused. "So… what?"
Ethan, perfectly straight-faced: "Call me Dad."
Missy nearly threw her fork at him.
"…Ethan!"
She shot him a classic Missy eye-roll and stuffed the lobster into her mouth.
"Keep this up and I might slap this lobster right onto your face."
"Just joking," Ethan said, about to move back to his seat—
Missy suddenly reached out and grabbed his sleeve.
"Don't go."
Ethan froze. "Hm?"
She tilted her head, her tone light but sincere.
"Sit with me. When I was little, there was always someone sitting next to me when I ate lobster.
So for now… you can fill in."
As he listened, a quiet smile slowly surfaced in Ethan's eyes.
"Okay."
He pulled his chair over and sat beside her.
"I'm not calling you Dad," Missy said, glancing at him before lightly bumping his arm.
"But I might consider calling you Uncle Ethan—if you're into that."
Ethan: "..."
Now seated together, the table lamp cast a warm glow right between their shoulders.
Missy speared another piece of lobster and waved it thoughtfully.
"Hm… something's missing."
"What's missing?"
She narrowed her eyes, dragging out the words.
"Being… served."
Ethan laughed. "And what exactly are you implying?"
"That you fulfill your 'Uncle Ethan' duties."
She rested her chin on her hand. "Come on, Uncle Ethan. Feed me."
Something stirred in Ethan's chest under her gaze, but he still lifted a piece of lobster toward her.
"Alright. Open up."
Missy did.
But—
She didn't bite right away. Instead, she leaned in slightly, lips softly closing around the tip of the fork—slow, deliberate.
As she slid the meat off, her tongue brushed the edge of the tines.
Just once. Light as a whisper.
Enough to make Ethan forget how to breathe.
Missy looked up, perfectly innocent.
"Mmm. That's really good."
Ethan froze for two seconds, then lowered his voice.
"…Missy, please don't do that."
She blinked. "Don't do what?"
"That—" he struggled for words, "—what you just did. That extremely unsafe maneuver."
Missy lazily twirled her fork.
"You mean… this?"
She did it again—slower this time.
"Missy!" Ethan could tell she was absolutely doing this on purpose.
She laughed softly.
"What's wrong? You survived my most chaotic teenage years. And now this is too much for you?"
Ethan took a deep breath.
"Compared to back then… you're about ten times more dangerous now."
Missy raised an eyebrow.
"I'll take that as a compliment."
---
After leaving Red Lobster, the sky over Manhattan had settled into a golden-blue twilight.
Ethan suggested,
"Want to take a walk around Columbia University? I went to med school there—Sheldon works there now."
Missy nodded.
"Sure. I want to see the place you and Sheldon practically lived in."
Inside the campus, the noise of the city seemed locked outside the gates.
Tall plane trees swayed gently in the breeze, their leaves glowing in soft rings of golden light.
Missy looked around, curious.
"It's… really beautiful here. And so quiet."
She smiled. "I suddenly understand why movies make college look like a dream."
Ethan chuckled.
"Most days it's a daydream. Finals week is a nightmare."
They climbed the steps of Columbia's famous Low Library—the heart of the campus, wide and open, where students sat to rest, talk, sunbathe, or just stare into space.
Missy sat down and looked around. After a few seconds, she said,
"I kind of like this life."
She tilted her head toward the sunset-lit dome.
"It feels free. Young. Like your life could restart at any moment."
Ethan nodded.
"Yeah. This place gives a lot of people the chance to redefine themselves."
She paused, then added,
"But… it's also kind of suffocating."
"Suffocating?"
"Everyone's rushing. Working. Pushing forward. No one dares slow down."
She thought for a moment. "Like if you stop for even a second, this place will swallow you whole."
Ethan laughed.
"That sounds like Sheldon."
Missy laughed too.
"Exactly. This place reminds me of him—smart, driven, laser-focused… always racing against something."
She looked at the surrounding buildings, her voice soft.
"So it's not just him. The whole school feels like that."
Ethan sat beside her.
"Maybe that's what college is. Beautiful, free, full of power—
and always reminding you of the pressure."
Missy stood and patted his shoulder.
"Alright, that's enough sightseeing."
"When I was growing up, I could already smell the pressure Sheldon brought home from college everyyyyyy day."