Page 85 of Break the Ice

Joshua shakes his head at all of them. ‘I’m scared of riding horses. Not of horses.’

‘Wait, you didn’t want to stand next to it when I went for the selfie. You stood away,’ I say, and his family laugh. Scared of horses but still endured that carriage ride with me. That’s kinda sweet, especially as I was so excited to be in Central Park and did squeal quite a lot. I’d seen it in so many films and TV shows, but it was quite something to see it come alive in the snow. So many kids were out, on sleds, building snowmen, dogs were running across the ice and there were familiar landmarks everywhere. ‘THAT’S THE SPOT WHERE THAT GUY PROPOSED IN THAT FILM WITH THE GIRL!’ I’d yell and Joshua would drag me away because I was scaring the pigeons.

‘Well done for showing the girl a good time,’ Bob, Joshua’s dad, says, patting his son on the back. Joshua shakes his head at him and walks ahead. ‘You know what I mean.’

‘Bob, it was the best time. Plus, he also introduced me to the best babka I’ve ever put in my mouth,’ I say. Josh shifts me a look. Don’t encourage them. But the family all laugh along with me. I like the way Joshua’s family all seem very intrigued by me, like they can’t quite believe me, the person that I am and how I’ve materialised in his life. I don’t think they’re being rude per se. I just think they see how perhaps Joshua and I aren’t an obvious fit. Like when you see those videos of baby tigers playing with ducks. It’s not in the natural order.

‘Mom… Joshua also went shopping this morning,’ Maddie informs her mother, whose jaw drops.

‘He did the what? Like for food?’

‘No,’ Maddie says. ‘For clothes.’

‘JOSHUA!’ his mother says, slapping him on the back. ‘You never go shopping, you’re an online king.’

‘You should see the tux we got for him too. He looks super sharp in it,’ I tell them. Again, the looks. Was I not supposed to tell or engage in that sort of activity with him? I hope they’re not the possessive sort. His sister and mother surround him to get the low-down and I’m left with Bob. There’s something quite cool about Joshua’s dad. He has a big bushy beard, solid dad jeans, a Knicks cap, and is wearing big thermal gloves with his parka coat. He belongs on a Nineties sitcom.

‘They’re just excited, forgive them,’ he says. ‘Joshua is normally a quieter boy, it’s nice to see him dragged out of his shell. Where did you go for the suit?’

‘Bloomingdale’s,’ I tell him.

‘Nice. Thank you.’

‘For dragging your son out of his shell?’ I joke.

‘No… For all of it. For looking after him over Christmas. I understand he spent time with your family. I also think if he’d come home and been on his own he would have been in his room playing GTA, living off takeout and…’

‘Mashed potatoes?’ I say.

He laughs heartily and his breath fogs the air. I see glimpses of Josh’s smile there. ‘How long have you known each other again?’ he asks.

I chuckle in return. ‘Long enough. I just didn’t know he was such a die-hard Knicks fan,’ I say as we walk up the street. And suddenly, there it is: Madison Square Garden just pops up in front of us, out of all the high-rise buildings and skyscrapers, across the road from the imposing Penn Station building with all its bold columns, surrounded by queues of yellow taxicabs. It’s bizarre how the arena is woven into the streets like that; in London, sporting or concert venues are usually on the outskirts of the city, but here it is, swarms of people headed into the light of its very polished entrances. I don’t feel so much of a try-hard fan now because there’s a man across the street who’s painted himself blue, with his potbelly as the orange basketball. I admire the commitment in this cold weather.

‘You follow the basketball?’ Bob continues.

‘I played basketball in school.’

‘Like for a team?’

Like for compulsory PE lessons where one of my mates once got a basketball to the face and broke her nose. This is a time to maybe keep such things to myself.

‘For fun, Bob. I’m not that sporty. I’m more mascot material,’ I tell him and he chuckles. We cross the street, dodging past the city traffic and fans dressed in baseball jackets, jerseys and hats. It’s a very civilised fandom. I look up at the building, mesmerised at the warmth coming off it, and angle my phone to take some photos, most of them with my face involved in some way. ‘It’s all touchdowns and home runs, yeah?’

He grins. I continue to follow and watch as we seem to head towards another entrance, away from the main bulk of the spectators. It has a blue awning over the doors. Bob goes up to one of the men at the door and shakes his hand. ‘Tommy, always a pleasure.’

‘You got any predictions for tonight, Mr Abelman? Celtics are having a helluva run,’ says the man, who is dressed head to toe in black with leather gloves.

‘Tommy, where’s the faith? Give Brunson some space and I think he’ll come up clutch.’

I smile and nod like I know what they’re talking about. I only know LeBron James and Michael Jordan and I don’t think they play for either of these teams. ‘Tommy, this is Phoebe, a friend of ours.’

‘Ma’am…’

‘Hi, Tommy,’ I say, maybe a little bit hesitantly, as I don’t see this treatment with the regular punters in the other gates. This is VIP treatment, these dudes are important. Tommy nods us through, doing a special handshake with Joshua. I look around at Joy, Joshua and Maddie, who don’t share in my hesitation, this VIP shit is their norm. We pass through the security gates and a warren of tunnels with framed pictures of players on the walls, everything feeling very fancy. There was me thinking I’d be with the masses with the foam fingers and some dirty nachos. I keep walking, silently trying to take this all in. ‘Bob, sorry for asking now but what is it you actually do? For work?’ I ask.

He laughs. ‘Hasn’t Joshua said? I’m an EVP…’ I don’t know what that is, so I just smile. ‘For Warner Music,’ he goes on.

‘Oh,’ I say, trying desperately to control my reaction.