Page 43 of For the Love of Art

I had thought signing the papers would be the easy part. After all, I’d survived over six months without my marriage.

“I’m not.” I stood up and walked around the desk. “Let’s go.”

Nathan nodded and touched the small of my back, sending a jolt of electricity up my spine.

Outside, a sleek black Lincoln Town Car sat waiting.

“Is that for us?”

“Yep.”

“Does that driver just sit outside the gallery all day?”

“More or less,” he replied as he opened the door for me. “After you.”

I slid into the charcoal colored interior. The leather seat was cool beneath my bare legs. Nathan sat next to me, undoing the buttons on his jacket as he did.

The driver pulled out into traffic without a word, like he already knew where we were going.

I shifted in my seat, then leaned in so I could whisper, “Is he taking us to a murder location?”

Nathan laughed. “What?”

“He just pulled out without a word.”

“He knows where my apartment is,” Nathan replied simply.

“Your apartment?” I squeaked.

Nathan nodded. “You know? The place where I live.”

“I thought we were going to your other gallery.”

Nathan shook his head. “Why would I take you there? I have a curator for the art there.”

“I-I-”

Nathan ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, I thought you’d–” He wet his lips. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“No.”

I was surprised by my answer. I had thought for sure I’d say yes, but my mouth said no.

“Do you like pho?” he asked.

“The soup?”

“Unless there’s another pho I don’t know about,” Nathan joked.

“I like it, yeah. Why?”

Nathan shrugged. “I can see the cogs in your mind working overtime. I know a great place around here, and maybe some time to get used to the idea of coming to my house would be good.”

“You want to get dinner?”

“Yes.”

“With me? Like we’d eat together?”