“Are they any good?” she asked.
“They’re stunning.”
“Wow. Really? What’s the artist’s name?”
“Paul Bache.”
“Thanks for telling me,” she said.
“I just couldn’t wait to tell you.”
After they hung up the phone, Claire sipped the bubbly champagne.
Martie usually took new artists in stride. Maybe she was becoming more invested in the art world.
She picked up her phone and sent a quick text – Send a picture.
She took her wine glass and her phone and went to sit on the balcony.
A few minutes later, her phone buzzed again. She opened the text and a picture of Grayson popped up. He was on a balcony also, only it was dark behind him. Maybe a wooded area? She zoomed in, but couldn’t tell. He had a sexy little sideways smile on his face.
Why would Martie send a picture of Grayson? Were they together?
She felt sick to her stomach. Had he gone to the studio looking for her and ended up going out with Martie?
Why had Martie sent her that picture instead of the painting?
Martie had seen him come into the studio to see her. Hadn’t she?
She paced back inside and, scrolling through her messages, tried to make sense of the situation.
She stopped pacing. Oh. No! She had accidentally sent the picture request to Grayson.
She set the glass of champagne on the nightstand and climbed into the middle of the bed. This is why she never drank more than a sip or two. The last time she’d had a couple of drinks, Danielle had been… created.
She ran her hands over her face. Glanced at the bottle of champagne. She’d barely touched it.
She went to Martie’s text thread and asked for a picture of the painting.
Martie said she’d send it tomorrow. She’d already left for the day.
Claire sighed. What to do about Grayson.
He sent another text. Do I get a picture of you?
She gasped. Uh oh. She opened her camera app and held the camera out for a selfie. Should she smile or look serious? She tried a couple of poses and examined the pictures. Taking a deep breath, she sent him a picture.
He wrote back. Where are you?
New York
There was silence on the other end of the phone
Are you serious? He wrote back. Why?
Why indeed? I needed to go to some museums.
She laid back on the bed and waited.
I see. You didn’t want to tell me?
No. She sent back.
Do you want me to come join you?
Claire giggled. Right. You have to work tomorrow.
So? He wrote. So do you.
Guess I won’t be there.
Can I call?
She stared at the phone. No. She didn’t need to talk to him right now.
I can’t talk right now.
Are you alone?
She rolled onto her stomach. Yes.
Have you been drinking?
How could he possibly know that? Why do you ask?
You’re being… funny.
I’m always funny.
Ha. Can I call? He asked again.
She didn’t answer this time. She left her phone on the bed and went to the refrigerator for a bottle of water.
The phone rang while she was drinking water.
She stretched across the bed and picked up the phone. “Hello.”
“Well hi.”
“Hi,” he said. “So you’re really in New York?”
“Sure.”
“And you didn’t want to tell me.”
“I couldn’t.”
“Claire. You can tell me anything.”
“Okay,” she said.
“Right?”
“I was afraid.”
His voice was serious. “I will never. Ever. Do anything to hurt you.”
Her giddiness faded into tears. “It might be a little late,” she said, her voice hoarse with unshed sobs.
“That was an accident. We were kids and didn’t have any control over it. We aren’t kids now. We’re in control.”
She inhaled deeply. Regained control of her emotions. “You’re right,” she said, her voice steady now.
“Claire, please don’t run away from me again.”
“I wasn’t running away,” she said, though she knew that was exactly what she had done.
“I want to be part of your life.”
“You are part of my life.”
“I want to be the part where you at least let me know when you’re going to New York. Even if you don’t invite to go with you. I understand that you sometimes need time alone.”
She took a deep ragged breath. Did she dare let herself care about him again? Did she let him care about her? “Okay,” she said.
He laughed. “Okay? What?”
“Okay. I’ll tell you next time.”
“Fair enough.”
“Grayson? Are you sure you want to go down this route again?”
“I’m one hundred percent sure.”
“Why?”
There was silence on the other end of the phone.
“I’ll tell you when you get back.”
“All right,” Claire said.
“Please be careful over there.”
“I will,” she said.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he said and they hung up the line.
Claire sat on the hotel bed, holding her phone.
It had been such a long time since someone actually cared where she was and what she was doing. Sure, her daughter kept up with her, but that was different. Danielle didn’t necessarily want to spend time with Claire, even though she wanted Claire to be there for her.
And Noah. Well, Noah had a tendency to do his own thing. She couldn’t blame him, either, since that had been their agreement going in.
And despite the coldness of their marriage, Claire had never, not once, cheated. Although after their legal separation went into effect, they had both agreed that it was okay to date others, Claire hadn’t been interested. She’d thrown herself into her work even more. And that was the time Danielle had needed her parents there for her. Claire had to give Noah points for dropping everything and being there every day for Danielle.
Claire found herself in an interesting spot. She had only been with two men in her life. She was divorced from one and the other wanted to resume their relationship after twenty years. Did people even do that?
It went against her keep moving forward policy.
Or did it?
Her thoughts were winding around themselves and she was getting tangled up in her own ideas.
She put on her pajamas and crawled under the blankets. She would have to think about this tomorrow.
Tomorrow was another day.
Grayson, too, got ready for bed, even though it was still early.
He looked at the picture she’d sent him and laughed to himself. She obviously had no idea there was an open bottle of champagne behind her. As far as he knew, Claire didn’t drink alcohol. She’d played it cool by having a sip or two, but she never drank more. She was much too in control of herself.
The fact that he’d caught her drinking was an anomaly. Finding her in New York hadn’t even occurred to him.
He’d been shocked when she asked him to send a picture.
He could only explain it by her use of alcohol.
He must have really gotten under her skin for her to run all the way across the country from him.
She didn’t say anything about work or meetings. And she probably would have told him if she’d had a planned trip.
Now that he knew where she was and that she was safe, his resolve to let her have time to sort things out was even stronger. At least she was far away from the likes of that Maine D’Court artist.
Tomorrow was exam day. He had to get up early to make copies. He would have to think about setting up online testing next year. There was no reas
on not to update his classes. Giving tests online would be much more efficient.
Since everything was ready until tomorrow, he went online and bought three tickets to Saturday’s Dodger’s game. It was time to add a little excitement to their lives.
Chapter Eleven
Claire spent the next day at the Museum of Modern Arts. She got there in time for a seven thirty guided meditation session. She grabbed a mat and made herself comfortable in front of Claude Monet’s Water Lilies. While relaxing her mind and clearing her thoughts, she wondered how something like this would go over at her studio. She’d put Martie on setting it up for a trial basis. It would get some people inside her studio who otherwise would probably never set foot inside. Maybe she could go a step further and host a yoga class. The more comfortable she could make people feel coming through her doors, the more clients she could culture.
This idea alone was worth the trip over.
That and having a conversation with Grayson that she probably never would have initiated face to face.
She blushed a little at the memory that she’d accidentally asked him to send her a picture. That was something she never would have done. She could only imagine what he must have thought.
After the meditation session, a man who looked vaguely familiar approached her.
“Claire Worthington?”
She didn’t answer. She wasn’t here in a business capacity. She was wearing jeans and canvas sneakers. No one was supposed to know she was here.
“I’m Allen Samuels. We met at a fundraiser here a few years ago.”
“Right,” she said. She recognized him as someone she’d met before. “You’re with…”
“I’m with Dolls for Rags Foundation.”
She remembered him then. Danielle had gotten a group in her high school involved in doing some fundraising for them. She’d spoken with Allen several times on the phone. He was about ten years older than she was and she’d always found him a pleasant man to work with. He wasn’t bad to look at either.
“Of course,” she said. “I remember you now. My mind was somewhere else.”
“Understandably,” he said. “I’m sorry to interrupt like this.”
“I don’t mind,” she said.
“I’ve been meaning to call you about a collaborative project, so you can only imagine how surprised I was to see you here. It’s almost like I conjured you up.”
Claire laughed. “Perhaps you did.”
“Do you want to get coffee?” he asked. “Or maybe lunch.”
“Coffee sounds good, but I don’t think anything is open yet,” she said. In truth, she wanted to get the meeting with him over with so she could resume her wandering.
“I think they open for coffee for the meditation crowd.”
They went to the Terrace and found a table next to the window with a clear view of the skyline and street below. Claire ordered a cappuccino while Allen ordered coffee.
“What did you have in mind?” she asked.
“Right the point, I see. Alright. I’m think of expanding Dolls for Rags out your way.”
“Great. How can I help?”
He stretched out his legs and sipped his coffee. “I’m looking for a partner.”
The hairs on the back of Claire’s neck tingled. She’d never had the need for a partner. Never wanted to have a partner.
“You seem to be doing quite well on your own,” she said.
“I am,” he agreed. “But you see, my wife died recently and I’m just not enjoying the work like I used to.”
“Oh,” Claire said, burying her expression in her coffee cup.
“I know. It sounds like a sad story, so I won’t bore you with it. But…” he waited until she looked up and met his gaze. “I heard through the grapevine that you’re divorced now and I thought maybe we could become friends.”
Claire bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud. It was the oddest proposal she had ever been presented with. Was he asking her to become a business partner or a romantic partner?
“I’m not sure what you’re asking me,” she said.
“Ah hell, I’m not either. But I’ve always been attracted to you. And we obviously share interests. I guess I was hoping we could work together or play a bit. Or both.”
Claire laughed out loud. She couldn’t help it. To his credit, he laughed with her.
Allen’s… proposition was flattering. She’d known him for some time. He had a stellar reputation in the art community. She’d always found him attractive.
Now that his wife had passed away, he was doubtless considered an eligible bachelor.
Ideally, he was a perfect match for her. Same social standing. Same interests. Similar career goals. Age appropriate.
Yet, she couldn’t stop thinking of a certain Air Force veteran with gorgeous blue eyes. He’d kissed her ever so lightly the night before she’d run away from him. He’d kissed her and awakened so many memories that intertwined with the unexpected longing for more. So many feelings that she had been overwhelmed.
“I’m flattered,” she said, biting her lip to stop laughing. “But I’m here for a sort of personal pilgrimage.”
“I understand,” he said, holding his hands up. “No pressure.” He picked up a little square napkin and wrote his name and phone number on it before sliding it toward her. He winked. “In case you change your mind.”
He stood up and held out his hand. She placed her palm against his and he kissed the back of her hand.
She felt absolutely nothing, aside from a little discomfort. Her gaze darted around the room, but no one seemed to be paying them any heed.
“Until we meet again,” he said.
“Take care of yourself, Allen,” she said and meant it. He was a nice guy.
As he walked away, she folded the napkin and tucked it in her handbag. She turned her gaze back to the view as she finished her coffee.
Claire had been well-schooled in controlling strong emotions. She was quite good at keeping her feelings under control. Danielle had been the one exception to that for the most part.
The other exception had been Grayson. When they’d been together, she’d felt overwhelming love. Then, after she didn’t hear from him, that emotion had turned to despair. She’d hidden it, of course. She’d hidden it so well, that she’d convinced herself that she was over him. And had ended up married to Noah.
She watched as a pigeon landed on a neighboring rooftop. Even here in the midst of the city, nature still ran its course.
She took a deep, ragged breath. It was natural to have feelings. Human.
Her parents had been wrong in sending her to etiquette classes. Well, perhaps they hadn’t been wrong. There was certainly some merit in having control of strong emotions.
There was also merit in having feelings.
Claire had loved Grayson. She had never stopped loving him. Neither of them were to blame for what had happened to keep them apart all those years ago. Perhaps it had been divine intervention. They were who they were because of what happened. And because of Danielle, she wouldn’t go back and change what had happened for anything.
The fact that they’d found each other again after twenty years was a major miracle in itself. They hadn’t even been looking. It had been fate. It had to be.
Moving forward, she had no reason to deny herself what she felt for Grayson. In the great scheme of life, a few weeks with Grayson could be worth more than twenty years with someone else. If it led to a long-distance relationship, so what? She wasn’t giving anything up.
Sure. She would be giving up the option of dating someone like Allen Samuels. But she didn’t care about Allen Samuels. Or any of the other guys who might be out there.
There was only guy she cared about.
Grayson Moore.
And it was quality, not quantity.
She wanted to go home. Right now.
The streets of New York were alive with millions moving about.
She was in awe that there was only o
ne person on this earth that she wanted to be with right now.
She closed her eyes as the emotions washed over her.
She was here. She may as well spend the day in the museum. She’d fly out in the morning.
She smiled at the way she instinctively went practical. Years of training and practice didn’t disappear in an instant.
She sent a quick text to Grayson. See you tomorrow?
He wrote back in an instant. Sounds perfect.
She grinned. Thanks to modern technology, things were already different this time around.
When Claire answered the door the next evening, Grayson was in awe. Claire was wearing those yoga-type pants and a long t-shirt over them. She had on white canvas sneakers that she wore just about everywhere except to work. She had on no make-up and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail.
He’d never seen her look more beautiful.
It had to be the smile she wore. Unlike most of the time they’d spent together, she didn’t have that air of suspiciousness about her. Her smile was all over her face. But mostly he noticed it in her eyes.
“You’re beautiful,” he said. She always was, but this was different. More relaxed. And open.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Sorry for what?” he asked. What could she possibly have to be sorry about?
“I’m sorry I ran away.”
He laughed. “I’m the one who should apologize. I’m the one who scared you away.”
“I shouldn’t be skittish,” she said.
“It’s cute.”
“Come inside,” she said and he followed her back to the kitchen. “I was just about to put something in the oven.”
“Do you want some help?”
“Sure,” she said, handing him her kitchen shears. “You can open this jar of artichokes and cut them into little pieces.”
Grayson tested the lid. “I see why you wanted me over here. To open this jar.”
She laughed. “Guilty.”
“Do you have an old knife or screwdriver?”
He could open the jar, but didn’t dare use what was no doubt expensive silverware in her collection.
She opened a drawer and pulled out a screwdriver. “Will this do?”
“Perfect.” He rapped it in three places on the top of the lid and it popped open with a simple twist.
“I never can get that to work,” she said.
Love Again: Love's Second Chance Series Page 11