Park Avenue Prince(42)

She trailed her fingers over the words as she whispered, “Ultimate bliss.” Glancing up at me, she said, “That’s lovely, Sam. Where does it come from?”

“You’re all done,” the artist said as he finished dressing the tattoo. Grace sat up and I gave him some cash.

“No, Sam. I’ll pay.” She had that same look in her eye Angie got when I’d offered to pay for her IVF.

“No you won’t. I persuaded you to get a tattoo, and I got to choose the design. I’m paying.”

After I handed over the cash, we stepped out onto the sidewalk.

“Thank you,” she said.

“It really was my pleasure.” I liked that I’d spent money on her.#p#分页标题#e#

“Ultimate bliss?” she asked. “What does it mean? You didn’t say.” She looked up at me as we began to walk north.

I shoved my hands into my pockets. It just fit her—as if it were meant for her. “It’s from a book.”

“You’re quite the reader,” she said. “Is it the same book that you got your quote from?” she asked.

I nodded. “It is, actually. From the same passage, even. You said you wanted me to choose and for it to be like mine.” As I said the words out loud, I realized our two tattoos bound us forever in a way, even though I spent a lot of effort on making sure I didn’t have any ties. She’d always have my choice on her skin. I ran my hand through my hair. Perhaps I should have chosen something less important to me.

“I like it,” she replied. She seemed genuinely pleased. It wasn’t the reaction of a princess at all. Maybe being connected to her like that wasn’t so bad.

The sounds of the city filled the silence between us as we walked, to where, I had no idea.

“You’re not going to tell me which book?” she finally asked.

“The Count of Monte Cristo,” I replied. I didn’t want to tell her how that book was the story I’d clung to in foster care. Or that it had given me some glimmer of hope that things would eventually get better.

As if she knew I couldn’t give it, she didn’t push for more of an explanation.

“You’ll tell me more. Soon,” she said.

I wasn’t sure if it was a question or not but I glanced across at her and nodded.





“You look beautiful,” I said to Grace as she locked the door to the gallery while I waited on the sidewalk.

I’d chosen my suit carefully that morning. And I’d made sure I was on time to pick Grace up. I knew going to the exhibition this evening was a job for her, but for me tonight was about spending time with her. Was this what dating felt like?

“Thank you, Sam Shaw.” She looked at me from under her eyelashes and her cheeks pinked a little in a way where I wanted to reach out and feel their heat. “We’ll walk. It’s just a block from here.”

I stuffed my hands into my pockets to stop myself from reaching for her as we started off along the street.

“How’s your tattoo?” I asked.

“Actually, it’s kinda great. The redness is gone. From a distance, you can’t see it at all, but then as you look closer, it almost seems to reveal itself in layers. First you see it’s writing, then you read it, then you understand it.”

God, I really liked the way she saw the world. I really liked her.

“You know what I mean?” she asked, beaming up at me. Every time she smiled I had to resist an urge to kiss her.

I nodded, but didn’t say anything. I wanted her to keep talking. I wanted to know more about her.

“I’m reading your book. I hope you don’t mind,” she said, her eyes fixed ahead of her. The street was busy with people pulling down roller shutters and walking to the subway, but we existed in a bubble, where it remained calm and peaceful and all the noise and activity was separate from us.

“My book?”

“The Count of Monte Cristo.”

“Oh.” I swallowed. She was reading it. “It’s not my book, Princess.” It wasn’t like I had ownership over it or anything.

“Maybe it’s not. Maybe it is.”

Maybe? I wasn’t following her. It wasn’t my book—millions of people had read that book.

“I’ve never read it before,” she said. “I kind of knew of the story—the young man, falsely imprisoned for a crime he didn’t commit—that he fights to survive, to escape.” She squeezed my hand. “Reading it, I understand why you like it.”#p#分页标题#e#

Before I had a chance to ask her what she meant, we’d arrived.

“Here we are.” She nodded at a group of people at the entrance of a store. “This is us. If you don’t like it, we can leave. Just let me know.”