Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 65239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
“The owner only works with up-and-coming artists,” I explain to Sean. “She chooses someone who she feels has potential. They are given one area of the gallery to showcase their work. It’s priced at what they view as fair, and she takes a very small percentage. It’s up to the artist to cover the cost of the opening of their exhibit.”
His gaze travels over the small stands that hold the sculptures beneath glass covers. From our vantage point I spot a horse, a lion with an impressive mane, and the head of a dog with tipped ears.
“My favorite is the deer.” A woman moves to stand next to us. “We spotted it when we were on a camping trip upstate last year.”
I turn to her. “You’re the sculptor?”
She lets out a surprised laugh. “No. I’m afraid I don’t have an artistic bone in my body. My son created all of these.”
“He’s very talented.” I glance at all the people milling about checking out the sculptures. “All of the pieces are so detailed. They’re breathtaking.”
Her gaze volleys between Sean’s face and mine. “Thank you for coming. Adam is stunned at the turnout.”
I look over to see a young man standing away from the crowd. “Is that Adam?”
“He’s fifteen,” she explains. “This exhibit is the start of big things for him. I think he’s overwhelmed at the moment. I told him it’s only a matter of time until he sells out.”
“I think you’re right.” Sean smiles at her. “I think this is the beginning of great things for your son.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Sean
“I would have bought one of Adam’s sculptures if they didn’t all get scooped at record speed,” I confess to Calliope as we step out of the gallery.
She laughs. “You would have?”
“Damn right.” I tug her hand into mine. “What’s better than funding someone’s dreams?”
“You really are a saint.”
“I’m also a sinner, but you know that.” I wiggle my brows.
“I do know that.” Chuckling, she motions to the right. “Our next stop is this way.”
“My bed is this way.” I point to the left. “I think we should stop there for the night or the weekend if you’re up to it.”
“I can’t stay all weekend.” She sighs. “I’m working a double shift at Tin Anchor tomorrow, and on Sunday, I’m going to Delora’s apartment with Justin and Rory. We’ll go over everything before Delora makes the presentation on Monday.”
I know I can’t crash the meeting at Delora’s apartment, so I set out a compromise. “Spend the morning with me. I’ll cook you breakfast.”
“You make a great dinner. I can’t begin to imagine what you’ll prepare for breakfast.”
I drop a glance at my watch. “You’re just twelve hours away from finding out.”
She tugs on my hand to get me moving. “We’re just three blocks away from our next stop on this date.”
I see the theme of this date night even if she doesn’t want me to.
The tacos were a steal of a deal. The exhibit opening at the gallery was free for all. We’ve journeyed around midtown Manhattan on foot since riding the subway here after work.
Champ is giving me the date of my dreams on a budget that works for her.
I damn well wish I could give her a raise, but I sense that would cause more harm than good for our developing relationship.
As we approach the corner on the crowded sidewalk, I squeeze her hand. “How do you feel about what I said earlier, Calliope?”
Her gaze jumps to my face. “What did you say earlier?”
I’ll repeat it twenty times if she needs me to because I like the sound of it that much. “I introduced myself to Barney as your boyfriend.”
That stops her in place. She turns, so she’s facing me directly. “Are you my boyfriend?”
I drop to a knee because I want her to remember this date as fondly as I will.
Her mouth drops open, so I speed this up because I may be crazy about her, but I’m not proposing marriage.
“Will you do me the honor of being my girlfriend, Champ?”
“Yes,” she says as people around us call out congratulations based on their assumptions of what they think they are witnessing. “I’d love to be your girlfriend.”
I follow Calliope into the lobby of our building.
It’s almost midnight.
Our date night trek around midtown Manhattan ended less than thirty minutes ago.
After we stopped at a wine bar owned by one of Champ’s former co-workers, we took in the sights, sounds, and scents of Times Square. I can’t recall the last time I was down there, but tonight left me with a great memory of the area.
As we strolled hand-in-hand through the raucous Friday night crowds, Calliope broke free and took off in a sprint.
I followed fast on her heel and broke out laughing when I saw where she was headed.
She had spotted someone dressed in a Smurf costume, so she posed next to them while I snapped a few pictures on my phone. I put some money in their palm and thanked the mysterious stranger for capping off a memorable night.