worth a small fortune. The handles on the drawers were made of actual gold.”
York whistled. “I’ll be the first to admit that people do strange things with their money.”
“Oh, trust me. I know. I have seen some strange things in my line of work. The collection of antique dildos wasn’t even the most shocking thing I’ve had to curate and sell. There was a bidding war for that.”
“What?” York sputtered.
“Yup. A sex museum and a private collector were trying to outbid each other for a week. It was a strange few days for me. I was holed up in an Amsterdam hotel, living off Dutch pastries. I ate so many almond cookies, I thought I was going to be sick.”
“Who won the dildos?”
Josie giggled. “This has got to be the strangest conversation you’ve ever had.”
He nodded. “Pretty much. Was it the sex museum?”
“You’d think. But at the very last minute, the private collector bid an insane amount of money. My commission basically doubled at that moment. It was great. I was able to pay for a lot of medical bills because of it.” Shit, shit, shit. Josie had been so caught up in chatting that she had completely forgotten that her sister and Gammy’s illness were straight-up, not available for discussion.
York froze, and it was clear he wanted to ask but didn’t want to pry.
It was her own damn fault for being so caught up in the moment and mentioning it. York was easy to talk to, and she enjoyed his presence. She bit down on her lip. If anyone could understand the crushing sadness that was accompanied by loss, it was York.
“Yeah, I help my Gammy pay her medical bills. She’s got Multiple Sclerosis, and her meds and treatments get pretty expensive.”
“I’m sorry your grandmother is ill.”
Josie sighed. “Me, too.”
“Is it genetic? If you don’t mind me asking…”
“No, it’s not supposed to be. But there is something in the genes, though. My…my little sister had it, too. She didn’t make it.”
York placed a solid, warm hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. He didn’t say anything.
He didn’t have to. He got it. No amounts of sorries and sympathies made the sting of it go away. His silent compassion was more than enough for Josie.
“My wife Annalise died of tuberculosis in 1919.” York’s words were quiet and loaded down by grief.
Josie took his hand in hers and gave it a good grip. She didn’t let go. She didn’t know why York had decided to tell her, but it didn’t matter. He had trusted her with the pain, and that’s what mattered. Their grief bonded them in a way.
“I miss her every day. When things go well, she’s the person I want to tell. When I’m having a shit day, I want to hear her voice, telling me it’s all going to be okay. Or to tell me to get my head out of my ass.” He chuckled softly at the memory of it.
“Sounds like my kind of lady,” Josie murmured.
He nodded. “I think you two would have gotten along, actually.”
Josie understood the words for the compliment that they were. They walked in silence for a bit, but it wasn’t heavy or awkward. It was the space they needed to digest the fact that they had shared their pain with someone else.
Once they had followed the path out of the park and back onto the street, York didn’t let go of her hand. He turned her so that they could stare at each other for a bit longer in the silence. He swallowed.
“This was nice,” he said. “I enjoyed myself. “Do you think I could have your phone number?”
Josie nodded nervously, and the exchange was done quickly.
“I promise not to barge into the brownstone again,” he vowed.
She smiled at him. “I don’t know. I liked it.” She bit into her lip. The tingles, the ones that always raced up her back and along her arms when she got into a kissing mood, were running across her body.
York was still holding her hand, and he used it to bring her closer to him. He lowered his head and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.
It was soft.
It was perfect.
It was over way too quickly.
“See you soon,” he swore, with flames dancing in his green eyes.
Josie didn’t even have a doubt. He was definitely going to call her.
Chapter Nine
York
Two days had passed since York’s date with Josie.
Forty-eight long hours had slowly ticked by without laying eyes on her.
York had done just about everything