“But why on earth would you risk discovery for—” understanding blossomed on Arthur’s face “—for a look at a work of Italian futurism.”
Rory crammed bandaged hands in his coat pockets and kept his mouth shut. Jade looked between them, then cleared her throat. “I’ll just make myself scarce, shall I?”
“Enjoy your dim sum,” Arthur said dryly, eyes on Rory as she walked toward a waiting cab. They stood in tense silence for a moment, until Arthur sighed and said, with quiet sympathy, “It’s not stupid to want to see where your blood’s from.”
The knot in Rory’s chest loosened. “My mom missed it like crazy. Don’t get me wrong,” he added hastily, “she was real grateful to be here. Even when people were mean to us, she’d say it was better than starving.”
“We’re allowed to have complicated feelings,” Arthur said softly. “You can be grateful for what you now have and still mourn a loss.”
The knot eased just a bit further. “She promised to take me to see it someday.” Rory swallowed hard. “’Course, now all I’ve got are her stories.”
Arthur reached out, then glanced at the windows of the art gallery, his hand falling to his side without contact. “You have nothing of hers?”
Rory shook his head. “Dad sold it all. He, uh, he said I was gonna cost the church too much.”
Arthur’s face hardened. “Why didn’t your mother’s family take you in? They had to be better than that lout.”
Rory shrugged awkwardly. “Mom ran away when she got pregnant and Dad wouldn’t marry her.ZioDamiano took us in, but he died the year before she did. Don’t know if anyone else ever knew about me. They’d think I was dead now anyway.”
“They would want to meet you—”
“And have my visions on their doorstep? Or thecops?” Rory shook his head again rapidly. “Family’s for normal people, Ace.”
Arthur’s eyes went sad, but he said lightly, “Mrs. Brodigan seems like a lovely and perfectly normal aunt to me. I’d take ten of her.”
That made Rory almost smile through the tightness in his throat. “I left Mrs. B. to do everything herself. I got to get back to work.”
“Then I’ll get your cab,” Arthur said firmly, stepping to the curb.
Rory huffed. “I could’ve walked,” he muttered, but without bite. The wind was picking up, whipping through a new hole in his coat and chilling his skin. He watched Arthur hail a taxi, jet-black hair and bright eyes as colorful as the futurist painting against the drab day.
“So where you going now? You got some Fifth Avenue princess to visit?”
Arthur’s smile slipped. “Ah—no. Business. It’s always business.”
“But a big-timer like you, you got a doll somewhere, right?” Rory said, trying to sound casual, like he didn’t care if there was someone special in Arthur’s life.
Arthur’s smile hadn’t come back. “There’s no one,” he said, not looking at Rory as he waved for a cab. “Apparently it’s endless bachelorhood for me.”
Something about the way he said it made Rory’s chest hurt. “Sounds like more bunk. Bet you just haven’t met someone good enough for you yet.”
“Of course.” The words were unexpectedly bitter. “I must come across as impossible to please—”
“Not like that,” Rory blurted. “You’re not stuck up about your coffee and you’re not stuck up about your people either. You’re one of a kind, Ace. How could anyone be good enough for you?”
Arthur paused, expression uncertain, but before he spoke, the cab was at the curb. Rory got in the back seat as Arthur leaned in the passenger window, and Rory saw him hand the driver a bill.
“Hey,” he protested, as Arthur straightened up, “I can pay my own—”
“Arrivederci, Rory.”
Prick. Rory flopped back against the seat with a huff, but his gaze was on Arthur as the cab pulled away from the curb.
Mrs. Brodigan was behind the register when he arrived at the shop. “Look at you,” she said as he came in. “You’re not scowling.”
He rolled his eyes. “Job for Jade and Kenzie wasn’t bad. Sorry I was gone so long.”
“Did you bring more apology scones?” she said hopefully.
