He smiled. “Of course. I’d love to take you traveling. We’d have a great time.”
Warmth filled me. Tony wanted to spend time with me. “I’d like that. But you’d have to let me help pay a little bit at least.”
An emotion I couldn’t name flashed in his eyes and was gone. He reached across the table and took my hand in his. “We’ll talk about it more when the time comes.”
“Okay.”
We spent time people watching in the park, making up stories about their lives. Tony, being a former police officer, had insights I didn’t. Of course that meant his observations tended to lean toward possible crimes they may have committed. He pointed at an older woman. “I’ll bet she was a spy and assassin.”
I shoved his shoulder lightly. “No way.” I watched the older woman slowly make her way across the park, using a four-pronged cane. “She’s someone’s sweet old grandma.”
We went back and forth like that for a while before Tony suggested going into the New York Public Library, which was right across the street from the park. It was yet another staple of New York culture I hadn’t visited yet. I’d seen the marble lions that guarded the stairway leading into the library, but I’d never taken the time to visit the place.
My jaw dropped when we walked into the huge entry hall. Marble columns soared to a thirty-foot height, meeting elaborately carved archways. An oculus dome in the center of the coffered ceiling let in light from the mid-afternoon sun. Marble stairways led to the upper floors and all the treasures they held. I knew immediately that I’d have to come back to see everything the library offered. There were exhibits featuring centuries-old hand-inscribed and illustrated tomes in glass cases. There was even a copy of theDeclaration of Independenceon display.
It felt more like walking through a museum than a library until Tony led me to the reading room. Before me were dozens of long wooden tables set up with small table lamps and computer workstations. The room was half-filled with people reading, writing, or researching on the computers. A low balcony ran along both long walls, underneath which were built-in bookcases. Tall windows let in plenty of light, illuminating both the room and the painting that adorned the center of the thirty-foot wood-coffered ceiling.
“Wow,” I breathed quietly. “This is amazing. I wish I’d come here sooner.”
“We used to come here a lot when I was a kid,” Tony said. “My mother wanted us to love books and reading.”
“Smart lady,” I replied.
He smiled. “Yeah, she’s pretty great.”
We wandered around through more exhibits, stopping at the Winnie the Pooh exhibit, featuring the stuffed animalsthat inspired A.A. Milne’s tales of Christopher Robin and the adventurous bear who was his childhood friend.
I glanced up at one of the gorgeous clocks that adorned the walls of the library and saw it was almost four-thirty. I nudged Tony and pointed at the clock. “We should probably get going.”
As we were making our way toward the entry hall, Tony’s phone vibrated with a text. His lips curved in a fond smile as he read the message, making me wonder who it was from. He typed a brief response and then pocketed the phone, sending my curiosity up to a million.
Once we got out of the building, he pulled me aside. “My cousin Sal texted. He’s going to Brendan’s art show, and he wants to know if we would like to join him for dinner after we’re done.”
So many questions ran through my head at the same time. “Your cousin knows Brendan?”
“Yeah. He lives up that way and goes to Café Roma almost every day.”
Tony’s answer brought up another question I wasn’t sure I should ask. “Was he the person who asked you to ‘chat’ with the asshole barista?”
His lips twitched into a smirk. “I can neither confirm nor deny that information.”
I chuckled. “Uh-huh. Got it.” I blew out a nervous breath. “I guess the bigger question is, do you want me to meet your cousin?”
His brows rose in surprise. “Of course I do. I want you to meet my whole family.” He pulled me close and kissed my forehead. “You’re important to me. I want them to know how special you are.”
I tucked my head into the crook of his neck to hide my sudden tears. “It’s not nice to make a man cry in the middle of the street.”
He stepped back and put his finger under my chin, raising my face so I could meet his gaze. He wiped my tears away with his thumbs and kissed me tenderly. “Sweetheart, I’ll do whatever it takes to make you believe you deserve all the good things.”
The words I wanted to say were stuck in my throat. Surely it was too soon. Instead, I cupped Tony’s face and kissed him. “You are the best thing that’s happened to me in a very long time.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
TONY
I had to admit, Brendan’s artwork was way better than I’d expected. There were landscapes of lush, rolling green hills that could only be somewhere in Ireland. I’d been there once before and swore there were shades of green there I’d never seen anywhere else.
The landscapes appeared to be his earlier works because, as I went along, his paintings became more complex. There were cliffs framed by the crashing surf, the ruins of a long-abandoned castle being reclaimed by the plants and trees around it, and one of the colorful houses that the city of Cork was famous for. The last painting took my breath away. It was of a young redheaded boy, no more than ten years old, standing on the beach laughing, his blue eyes alight with joy. I wondered if it was a self-portrait.
