Part 23 (1/2)
”He called while you were downstairs. He's on duty again tonight.”
”That's too bad.” I felt bad for my friend. It had to be h.e.l.l being married to a police officer. ”You can come over, but it'd have to be later. I . . . umm . . . have early plans.”
Annalise scrutinized my face. ”You didn't have plans three hours ago.”
”I have plans now.”
Nervously, I texted him a quick reply before placing my phone back on my desk. When I looked up, my best friend was staring at me, waiting impatiently.
”I'm having coffee with Nathan,” I said with a sigh.
Her eyes widened. ”You're having coffee?”
”Yes.”
”You hate coffee.”
”So? I'll have tea.”
Annalise squealed so loudly every head in the office turned in our direction.
I miss the dungeon.
I loved the coffee shop across the street. Ms. Lorraine, the owner, baked the best blueberry m.u.f.fins around. As if that wasn't enough, they now had an outdoor patio, complete with Wi-Fi. On sunny days, I'd walk over during my lunch break and sit at one of the tables, letting the sounds of the city surround me as I worked. Those writing sessions had led to our I Love NY series of greeting cards, one of the company's bestsellers from last year. Knowing her store played a small role in the creation of that line, Ms. Lorraine always gave me a free m.u.f.fin whenever I stopped by.
Today, she gave me two.
Nathan and I took our m.u.f.fins and drinks and headed out to the patio.
”Have you always lived in New York?” he asked.
”Born and raised. My parents are professors at NYU,” I explained as we sat down at one of the tables. ”You're from Oklahoma?”
He nodded. ”My mom lives here now, and my brother and his wife recently opened a restaurant in Manhattan. They have a daughter close to Arwen's age. I figured if I ever wanted my art to be taken seriously, I'd have to get out of Oklahoma, so here we are.”
”Do you miss it?”
”I miss the quiet, but no, I can't say that I truly miss living there. I can live anywhere. My home is wherever my daughter is safe and happy.”
The man was obviously crazy about his daughter, which made him infinitely more attractive in my eyes.
”How old is she?”
”She's seven.”
The question was on the tip of my tongue, but I'd just met the man. I couldn't ask about Arwen's mother. Could I?
Nathan was watching me closely and he grinned. ”You can ask me anything, Jada.”
How did he know?
”Well, I was just wondering about-”
”Arwen's mom?”
”It's none of my business, really.”
Nathan shrugged and took a big bite of his m.u.f.fin. He moaned appreciatively, and the sound sent shock waves through me. ”I have nothing to hide. It isn't a topic I care to discuss, but I don't mind telling you. Her name was Amy-”
”Was?” I felt foolish for interrupting, but the word slipped from my lips before I could stop it.
”Amy died before our daughter turned one year old. Alcohol poisoning.”
”Oh.” That wasn't what I expected at all, but it did explain his earlier reaction to my mention of Margarita Mondays. ”I'm sorry to hear that.”
”It was inevitable,” Nathan whispered sadly. ”This is going to sound cold, but I'm glad Arwen can't remember anything about her mother. That's not to say we don't talk about her, but I'd prefer her memories not be tainted, you know?”
”Yeah, I get it.”
We spent the next few minutes talking about our mutual hatred for Valentine's Day and everything it represented.
”It's such corporate bulls.h.i.+t,” I muttered, ”but Heartfelt Designs isn't a bad place to work. It gives me the chance to do what I love and make people smile. Not many jobs can do that.”
”I like it, so far,” Nathan replied. ”Not only does it get my designs out there, but hopefully I'm making the world a more beautiful place. That's every artist's dream come true.”
We finished our m.u.f.fins, and Nathan glanced down at his watch.
”I really need to get home,” he said softly, ”but listen . . . if I can work it out with the sitter, would you let me take you to that Mexican place tomorrow night?”
He could take me to a burger joint for all I cared.
”I'd love that.”
Nathan sighed with relief. ”Good.”
He promised to call later, and I watched as he hailed a cab. Before climbing into the car, he gave me one last smile, and then he was gone.
”What are you wearing?”
Giggling, I cradled my cell closer to my ear and rolled over onto my back. ”h.e.l.lo to you, too.”
Nathan chuckled softly. ”Did I wake you?”
”I'm in bed, but I wasn't sleeping.”
”I bet you were writing.”
”Yeah, I'm always writing,” I replied. ”Besides, I'm a night owl.”
”Me, too.”