past…fifteen years. Ever since I was a freshman in high school.”
His eyebrows rose. “That’s impressive.”
“Well, it’s my father’s company, so…” She shrugged and sipped her wine.
Sometimes it felt weird telling people she worked for her dad. Like doing so meant that she’d used nepotism to get ahead instead of talent and dedication.
The good thing about those feelings was they’d inspired her to apply herself extra hard to everything she did. At this point, she knew she was a good artist. Not one of the best in the world, no, but maybe someday she’d get there.
“I started in the office,” she said, “running errands. And then, while I went to art school, I continued to work there. The murals came later, after one of my dad’s clients came to one of my shows and asked me to paint a wall in their office. The rest is history, I guess.”
“So you show your art,” he noted. “I would love to see it.”
“I haven’t had a show in a while, but I have plenty of paintings at my apartment.”
“What kind of stuff?” he asked.
“Abstract. Some nature. People. Whatever interests me at the moment. Really, I haven’t been painting much the last few years. I’ve been busy with other things.”
“What kind of other things?”
Mom.
She looked away from him. “Work.”
“I understand.”
“You stay pretty busy too, I bet, working at an investment firm.”
“It definitely keeps me on my toes,” he said with a chuckle.
“It’s so foreign to me. It’s nothing I’m familiar with or really interested in. Not to say that it isn’t interesting to other people.”
She tried not to cringe, hoping she hadn’t offended him.
“I love it,” he said. “It’s fast-paced, and that feeds my need for speed.”
“Oh?” She arched an eyebrow. “An adrenaline junkie?”
“Exactly.”
“And what’s your preferred poison?”
“Racing.” He shook his head and sighed. “I got into a lot of trouble racing in high school.”
“Wait, what? Teenagers still do that? I thought that was only in eighties movies.”
“In my little central California town, they do. Or at least they did twenty years ago.”
“Hm.” Diane went for another sip of wine only to realize her supply had run dry. Quick to notice, Kai signaled for another round.
“You’re an interesting guy,” she said, “and I still know next to nothing about you.”
“Ask away.” He spread his hands. “Nothing is off-limits.”
As it turned out, they spent the next hour mostly talking about the city they were in, from favorite restaurants and bars to the best places to find underground music and art. Kai possessed an attentiveness that few people had. It was like he hung on every word she said.
As she sat there laughing and smiling, Diane realized it had been a long time since she’d felt so good. Though she had fun outings with friends, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone so long without thinking about her life’s worries.
There was something truly magical about this man.
“Another one?” he asked, after their third round.
“That’s enough for me.” She held her hands up, her third glass sitting unfinished.
“How about a walk, then?”
“Now that sounds perfect.”
“Great.” Smiling broadly, he dropped some cash on the bar and offered her his arm.
She fitted her elbow with his, the warmth from his body sinking into hers. A headiness that couldn’t be blamed entirely on the alcohol came over her, and for a moment she couldn’t walk.
Thankfully, she eventually managed to get control of her legs. Still, the spot where their arms were touching drew all of her attention.
He led them outside, where night had fallen across Manhattan. It was late. But how late?
Letting out a gasp, Diane slipped her arm from his and dug through her bag.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
Locating her phone, she pulled it out and checked it. No messages.
A long sigh pushed through her lips. “No. Everything is good.”
No missed calls or texts was a good thing. It meant nothing had gone wrong.
“Want to walk to the water?” he asked.
“Yes. That sounds nice.”
It was a relief that he wasn’t pressing for info on her mini freak-out. She didn’t usually talk about her life circumstances. Even with her closest friends, it felt better not to.
Talking didn’t do anything. It didn’t change the cards you’d been dealt, and it didn’t always make her feel better.
On top of that, she didn’t want anyone’s pity. Now that could be really unbearable.
They walked in silence for a while, enjoying the warmth of a summer night in the city. It was Friday, and the streets around them buzzed with traffic and people yelling