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“Don’t tell me you know what you want already,” I tease.
“But I do.”
“There are too many delicious things for you to be that sure.”
“Believe me, I know what I want.” His expression turns darker, more sexual. I don’t think we’re talking about breakfast anymore.
“Well, I’m having the Eggs Benedict. It’s one of my favorites.”
The waitress interrupts us asking for a drink order. Before I have a chance to answer, Chase orders two mimosas and two coffees. She scurries off. He reaches across the table and grabs my hands.
“I had a fantastic evening from start to finish, thank you,” he begins, his eyes radiating sincerity. I flush remembering last night. It was the first time I’d slept with anyone since Evan, and not even with him did I capitulate so fast. I look up at Chase. He is watching my reaction, smiling at me.
“I had a wonderful time too.”
“Good. I plan to have many more fantastic evenings with you,” he whispers, his eyes impassioned.
“I would love that,” I whisper back. His smile gets broader, like he’s just won the lottery. Once again interrupting us, the waitress is back with our drinks.
“Have you decided?” she asks. Chase defers to me.
“I’ll have the Eggs Benedict, please,” I say while stirring my coffee. She looks at Chase.
“I will have the same.” Chase shrugs his shoulders. “They have one of the best Eggs Benedict in the city,” he explains at my look of astonishment.
After preparing my coffee with one Splenda and some half-and-half, I take a sip of my strange pinkish looking mimosa. Mmm, it’s delicious albeit peculiar. “I thought you ordered mimosas?”
“I did. These are the house specialty called the Four Flowers Mimosa. They’re made with orange, pineapple, banana and pomegranate juice.”
“This is really good,” I admit. His mouth twitches into a sideways smile.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” he chuckles.
I decide to only have one, since it was champagne that gave me this headache in the first place. I stick with coffee and lots of it.
Our breakfast comes out quickly. The eggs are centered on the plate without a puddle of hollandaise sauce. I cut into one of the eggs. The yolks are done to perfection. I can’t stand overdone eggs. I take a bite, and it tastes as good as it looks. Chase is just watching me, enjoying some private joke I’m not privy to. After a beat, he starts to dig in to his breakfast as well.
Chase pays the check, and ever the gentleman, stands up to pull out my chair. “Where would you like to go next?” he asks.
“It’s such a beautiful day. We could just walk,” I suggest. My headache is gone, and the warm weather is conducive to a nice stroll. He takes my hand, and we head across the street to Central Park.
We head west down 59th Street to Columbus Circle, one of the main entrances to the park. This is the south entrance, where the USS Maine Monument stands at Merchant’s Gate. The monument honors the two hundred and fifty eight American sailors who perished when the battleship Maine exploded in the harbor of Havana, Cuba. It’s a fantastic Dore bronze statue of a woman behind three horses, standing on a huge pedestal surrounded by statues of men and women. I stand and stare at the incredible amount of work that must have gone into creating such a masterpiece. We continue walking and enter the park.
Casually, we stroll hand in hand down West Drive toward the lake. We head over to a section of the park called Cherry Hill. Every time I come to the park, I sit by the large fountain. Turning, I guide Chase in that direction. We take a seat on one of the many benches and relax for a minute.
“Did you know that the fountain was originally used as a watering trough for the horses before the nineteen hundreds?” he asks. I shake my head absorbed in the beauty of my surroundings. “And this part of the park is named for the cherry blossom trees that bloom here during the springtime.” I shake my head again. “I am a fountain of useless information. You learn a lot from living in the city.”
“I see,” I say, but I’m not really paying attention. I spy an old couple, maybe in their seventies or eighties sitting on a bench beside us holding hands. It’s heartwarming. Chase squeezes my hand bringing me back.
“You okay?” he asks, concern etched in his voice.
“I’m fine, why?”
“You seem distant.”
“I’m just thinking . . .” I trail off.
“About what?” he prods.
