Caught Up in Us(36)

Chapter Fifteen





“Paris, Mom! She wants to send me to Paris. And it’s a requirement.”

I was on the steps of the museum, my hand cupped over my mouth even though I wasn’t truly trying to keep my voice down. How could I?

“That is so wonderful.”

“She’s like a fairy godmother. And she’s making me, Mom, making me, go to Paris as part of the investment. To find vendors to expand my designs. Can you please just pinch me now because I must be dreaming!”

A group of school kids chattered noisily as they raced down the sprawling steps to the hot dog carts and pretzel vendors on Fifth Avenue. A curly-haired guy in sunglasses gave me the once-over as he walked past me. I shifted away from him, but then tensed all over, thinking he was Wilco. I scanned for him quickly, but he was already pushing through the revolving doors. I hadn’t gotten a good look, but what were the chances the guy was Wilco anyway? Besides, for a big city, New York was the smallest of towns and you bumped into people you knew all the time. Or, as the case may be, people who simply looked like people you were avoiding.

I pushed him out of my mind and returned my focus to the call. “I’m going to use some of the investment for the trip and to buy the supplies. But if the buyers pick up my designs, then I’ll ramp up the business quickly and I can help pay off your loan for Mystic Landing with my revenues.”

“Katerina, I’ve told you to stop worrying about us.”

“Mom. I want to do this. Just let me help. I mean, I know I don’t have the money yet, but I will soon. And nothing could make me happier than helping you guys.”

“Pssh. Enough. Tell me more about your trip to Paris. That’s what I really want to hear.”

I shared more of the details, told her I’d come out to visit before I left, and then said goodbye. I looked around at all the people streaming in and out of the museum, then up at the darkening sky. I shook my head in amazement. I was still giddy, and didn’t think I’d come down from this high for a long time, nor did I want to. I wanted to share it with someone else. Someone special.

Bryan answered on the second ring. “Hey,” he said in a sweet voice he used just for me.

“I have amazing news. Where are you right now?”

“Just finished up a meeting on the Upper East Side.”

“I’m at the Met right now. About to do some work on a new expansion project for My Favorite Mistakes, and I thought perhaps my mentor might want to join me for a few minutes. It’s a business meeting, of course.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”





*****





The morning light reflected off Monet’s waterlilies. The brushstrokes from the Impressionist master made me think about shapes, colors and new ways of looking.

“So I’m thinking I should totally add a line of waterlily charms to My Favorite Mistakes.”

Bryan played along as we strolled past paintings. “While you’re at it, why not throw in some haystacks too?” He tipped his forehead to another Monet. “Your favorite painting, right?”

My eyes went wide with the realization that he hadn’t forgotten the last time we were here five years ago. From the caramel macchiatos to Hello Kitty to haystacks, he’d held onto so many details of me. My heart felt bigger and fuller. “You remember?”

He shot me a smile, then nodded. “Yes, I remember.”

I wanted to wrap my arms around him and kiss him, but I resisted. “Maybe I should even get some of those melty clocks from a Dali.”

“Or, how about just a bunch of drip mark charms from a Pollock? Because I would have to think drip marks would qualify as a favorite mistake.”

We stopped to sit on a blond hardwood bench in the middle of the gallery, keeping necessary space between us. Bryan wore slate gray pants and a green and white checked shirt with recycled bike chain cufflinks. A tie that I longed to unknot completed the look. He rested a hand on the bench; I did the same. Six more inches and we could have been holding hands. I glanced at his fingers, and restrained every impulse to lace them through mine. This beautiful place had the bars I needed. We simply couldn’t do a thing here. There were too many people around us, tourists and school kids, couples and families.

“So when do you think you’ll go to Paris?”

“Claire and I talked about it and even looked up flights during our chat. I think in two weeks. Over Veteran’s Day weekend. So I won’t have to miss too many classes.”

He lowered his voice, but looked straight ahead. “Speaking of missing. I’ll miss you when you’re gone.”

My stomach flipped. I wanted to brush my lips against his, to run my hand over his arm. To let him tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. Tenderly. He would do it tenderly. “Same here,” I said.