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“Wait? You’re Mr. DeSeis?” I narrow my eyes in suspicion.
“Guilty,” he admits, laughing. “But in all honesty, it was my agent who set up the appointment under Mr. DeSeis.”
“Shaw did that? Why?”
“I guess he thought it would be funny. Seis is six in Spanish. Six happens to be my nickname on the field.”
Anyone who knows football knows he’s referred to as Sexy Six. The nickname has been around for a while now, but I don’t dare let him know I’m aware. It was a great choice for Shaw, and pretty funny.
“Are you looking for artwork?” I change the subject.
“No, I’m looking for you.”
His words send a jolt to my system. “Me?” comes out in a squeak.
“Yes, you. I caught sight of you for a split second the other night. Then you were gone.”
My face starts to heat, and I look down to avoid his stare.
“Why’d you run?”
Humiliation slams into me at the way I left the event. I’m a grown businesswoman now. What was I thinking, running away like that? I knew he saw me, but I figured he didn’t remember me.
“I… I…” My brain refuses to produce a good excuse, so I close my mouth and twist the ring on my finger.
“Hey.” His hand moves under my chin and gently raises it so I’m looking at him.
“I didn’t know if you’d remember me, and I was in shock seeing you. It was a reflex to leave immediately.” Admitting the truth sounds pathetic, and I bite my tongue again
to quit talking.
“Remember you? I’ve never forgotten you.”
Sincerity is written all over his face. “I’ve never forgotten you, either,” I blurt out without thinking.
His grin from earlier returns, and he drops his hand from my chin only to grab my hand. “I’m glad to hear that, Sweet Grace, because I came prepared to catch up.” He kisses my knuckles, lowers my hand, and walks out the door.
I stand frozen as I watch him through the front windows. He opens the door to the black SUV parked out front and takes out a drink carrier. I recognize the logo as the coffee shop down the street where Logan and I visit almost daily.
Nick comes back in, pointing to the drinks. “I brought morning cocktails.”
“Cocktails, huh?”
“Is there somewhere we can sit?”
I can’t stop the tear that spills down my cheek before I can swipe it away.
“I’m sorry, Grace. It was stupid of me to assume you’d—“
“No! Nick, I love it! Standing here with you, in my gallery, after all these years, I think I’m just in shock. Come with me.” I motion to the back and use the ten steps to get myself together.
When we get to the break room, he sits quietly, setting the drinks out. “The owner happened to take pity on me and made your favorite when I told her I was meeting you this morning.”
I sit and take a sip of the raspberry mint tea. “Oh my God, this is so good.”
“She said you loved it.”
“She would know. I’ve become an addict since moving to Miami.” I giggle. “This tea is right up there with wine on my daily consumption list.”
