“That’s, uh…” He scratches the back of his neck. I get that art makes some people uncomfortable, especially something like this, when you see an old man drinking from a young woman’s breast. This is the sort of kinky thing that people get up in arm’s about nowadays, but this has nothing to do with sex. It has to do with a young woman’s love for her father. It’s sweet and beautiful.
“It’s a wonderful example of human kindness and affection.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Austen says, causing me to chuckle.
I roll my eyes, and we move on, because he doesn’t get it.
“So, why are you in New York?” I ask as we make our way through the different galleries.
“Savannah’s been working on this deal with these Italian designers for a while, angling for a promotion. The production manager is out on maternity leave, so they called her to fill in. I came to surprise her while she’s running her first shoot, on her own, but also, I…” He purses his lips.
“What?” I say as I come to stop, my heart pounding suddenly. Is he going to tell me he came here for me?
“I’m looking at property.”
My brows shoot into my hairline. “To live?”
“No,” he says. “For work.”
“Oh… But wouldn’t you need to live here too, then?”
“If I find a building suitable for my needs, then yeah, but I’m not there yet.”
It seems like he doesn’t really want to talk about this, so I don’t push it.
We stay at the museum until it closes. It’s dark when we get outside, but New York is still very much awake and alive. The city that never sleeps…
“I’m guessing you need to get back to Savannah?” I say, shoving my hands in my pockets.
“Actually, she doesn’t know I’m here… yet.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, I kinda wanted to spend the day with myself,” he says, a sheepish smirk playing on his lips. God, that smile is a killer.
“Sorry I ruined that for you.”
“You didn’t,” he says quickly. “Seriously, Cameron, this was nice. It felt almost…” He sighs.
“Almost like what?” I ask, though I’m pretty sure I know what he’s going to say.
“Like the old days?”
I smirk. “I didn’t hate it.”
He smiles in return. “Maybe we could do it again? Before I leave.”
I look around, rocking back on my heels. “Are you hungry?”
“What?”
“Food, Austen. I know this great little hole in the wall. Best sushi you’ll ever have.”
“Best?” he questions. “I don’t know about that.”
“Trust me, it’s way better than Bamboo Inn back home.”
His eyes narrow and I raise my brow, waiting for an answer.
