Calvin made a sound that was a mixture of a grunt and humorless laugh. “Yes.”
I squeezed his arm. “I’m pretty fond of Calvin, though.”
“I’ve been trying.”
“You’ve been doing so well,” I insisted, sitting up straight.
Calvin finally looked at me. “You think so?”
“I think so.”
He took a deep, cleansing breath, set the mug on the floor, and picked up the now-cold bagel from his plate. “I don’t think you’re helpless.”
“I know that.”
“You’re frustratingly competent.”
“You’re making me blush.”
That made Calvin smile. “I didn’t mean to get angry with you.”
“Me neither.” I leaned over and kissed his smooth, freckled cheek. “You’re trying to do your job. I know that. I was just—” I swallowed the urge to lie. “Scared and overcompensating.”
Calvin took a bite of his breakfast.
I sipped my coffee.
A silence settled between us again.
“What’re you thinking about?” he eventually asked.
I raised my eyebrows and tapped the side of my head with a finger. “It’s pandemonium up here—sure you want to know?”
“It’s remarkable,” Calvin corrected.
Aw, shucks.
“I have an idea.”
Chapter Nine
“A YEARago I’d have said this was absurd,” Calvin stated.
“You didn’t knowmea year ago.”
Calvin checked his mirrors before making a turn at the end of the block. “You really want to go all the way to Queens?”
“That’s where the Museum of the Moving Image is.”
“You don’t have to take the train, though. I can drive you.”
“They don’t open until after ten,” I replied. “And I’ve no desire to wait around in the desolate, ass-end of Astoria with a bunch of overworked and undercaffeinated filmmakers. I’ll go this afternoon. It’s no problem.”
“Whatever you want,” Calvin answered.
I looked at his profile. “I appreciate the offer, though.”
Calvin nodded, eyes on the road as he made his way through morning traffic to the Emporium. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised there’s a film history museum in the city.” He drove past an open spot on the side of the road before quickly backing up to parallel park.
