I shrugged. “I try. This should make recalling all these places easier when you work.”
“Well, thank you. I’m ready to put it to use.”
“Then let’s go.”
After breakfast, we headed up the Museum Mile on the Upper East Side to the Guggenheim before heading back to Little Italy. My future architect was excited to see the unusual building designed by Frank Lloyd Wright.
“This design is fucking genius,” Nick mused as we walked along 5th Avenue and Central Park. “Are you wanting something shaped like this? It took fifteen years to design and build. We’d need to get started.”
I chuckled. “Uh, I don’t think so, but thank you. This stop is purely for your enjoyment.”
We bought tickets and went inside to experience the helical ramp that swirled like a ribbon all the way to the skylight. Nick looked at the structure itself more than the art hanging on the walls. I stood back and watched him marvel at the way Wright had designed it. It had been renovated a couple of times, but the original design appeared to be intact.
After the Guggenheim, we took a cab back to Little Italy. It wasn’t the most efficient way to go, but it gave Nick a better view of the city than the subway tunnels.
As we rode through midtown and down into Lower Manhattan, Nick stayed focused on the view outside the window, taking everything in. Even though it was cold as hell, I considered a red bus tour so he could see the city without worrying about running into someone.
“What are we looking at today?” he asked when we got out of the cab.
I took his hand, and we walked down Grand St. toward Mulberry. “Today is all about the artisanal elements I’m considering. Tomorrow and Wednesday, we’ll do architectural features.”
The smile on his face warmed me from the inside out. I leaned over and kissed his red nose.
Our first stop in Little Italy was an Italian Bakery for cannoli and espresso. The store had been open since 1892, and while it didn’t look like much from the outside, the inside was quite grand.
When we walked in, the smell of coffee and fresh baked goods wafting in the air was intoxicating. The left wall of the store held case after case of every possible Italian pastry, dessert, and savory bread. Gelato sat untouched in its case since it was so cold, but if we ever got back here in the warmer months, we’d be coming back for that.
The middle walkway of the narrow shop was filled with displays of holiday gift items and fresh baked goods. Stella would love the chocolate-dipped cannoli, but there was no way it would survive the cross-country trip. I’d have to find something else to take home to her.
After being seated at a cafe table and our order taken, I reached out to lace his cold fingers with mine. Nick was busy studying the red and gold decor and the checkered pattern on the floor.
“I want to include an authentic Italian Bakery and Coffee Shop like this one in the new place. Not to this scale, of course, but a few really well-prepared items, and roasted coffee beans.We’d offer the same desserts in the restaurant plus a few exclusives to draw them upstairs. But I want ground access to the street where people walking by can’t pass by without wanting to go in.”
Nick looked around and into the back of the shop. “That would be amazing. I wonder if we could design it so there was a glass wall inside that separated the lobby from the kitchen, but allowed customers to see everything being made.”
I smiled. “My younger brother is co-owner of a French bistro and a pastry chef in a little town in Colorado. Greyson would be the one to consult about that.”
Nick furrowed his brow. “Really? Where in Colorado?”
Our waiter delivered our espresso and both the traditional cannoli, and the chocolate covered one with a chocolate chip filling. When he left, we dug in, and the moan Nick released as his eyes rolled back in his head made me laugh.
“Fuck, that’s good,” he said around a mouth full of pastry cream. He swept his tongue over his lips but missed a spot. I reached out and wiped away the cream, then brought it to my mouth.
Nick watched as I tasted the cream. His pupils dilated and swallowed some of the blue irises. He blinked slowly, and if we’d been alone, things would have gotten messy.
Shaking his head as if to break the spell, he looked away and wiped his mouth before taking a sip of his espresso.
“Where in Colorado did you say?”
I hadn’t. “A ski town outside Denver. Amber Falls. Ever heard of it?”
He took another sip of his espresso and tilted his head to the side. “The name is familiar. I think Coop might have mentioned something about Simon and Jackson having a home in Colorado.”
We both took a bite of the chocolate-dipped pastry and savored the delicate cream filling and chocolate shell. We were definitely putting in a bakery.
“According to my brother, the town is being redesigned. The old existing buildings are being renovated and made into high-end stores and restaurants. Their new ski resort has brought a lot of attention to the area.”
Nick’s eyes widened. “I bet they have a need for architects out there.”
