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I nodded. "I'm glad, too. Maureen, his ex, said she doesn't want him involved in Liam's life, despite the donation."
"You know, Drake could push that if he wanted. He is the biological father, and now he has proof. Men's rights to their children have improved lately after decades of mothers having the upper hand in the courts. Tell Drake if there's anything I can do to help on that front, I'd be glad to."
"I don't think Drake would want to push the paternity thing. He's still pretty sour on fatherhood, and whether he even knows what being a good father is. Drake will be coming by later this afternoon. We can talk about it then."
He nodded, and then his landline rang and he turned to read the display. "Sorry, sweetie," he said, his hand on the receiver. "Chief of Staff. Gotta take this. Talk to you later."
He ended the call and the window in my phone closed.
I saw a flag on my text message icon that indicated I had a text. I opened it, and it was Nathaniel, replying.
Come by and make your canvas. I have lots of wood and fabric, gesso – everything you need. I'm busy working on a series of paintings for my final show in April, but you're welcome to come in any time. Jules and Keith are also working on pieces so it might be crowded. Love to catch up with you, sug.
If Nathaniel was busy working on a collection for a show, I'd have to find somewhere else to work, but I could always work at 8th Avenue. There was room in the kitchen, and lots of ambient light during the day. I'd have to make sure Drake didn't see the canvas though. I really wanted it to be a surprise.
While I was texting him back, my cell rang. It was Elaine.
"Hi, Katie," she said, her voice pleased. My father must have given her the news. "How are you? Your father told me about the tests. I'm so happy for you both. Drake must be so relieved."
"Very relieved," I said.
"Your father wanted me to invite you both to lunch. He feels like Katz's today. What do you think? Can you two make it?"
I smiled, having wanted to go to Katz's for some time. "That sounds perfect. I'll ask Drake when he calls me."
"Let one of us know and we'll meet you there."
"Thanks for calling."
I ended the call and sent Nathaniel a text.
Hey, thanks so much for the offer. My boyfriend and I will be by later before lunch. He'd like to check out the studio. Hope that's OK.
He texted me back right away.
No prob, sweets. See you then.
Then I texted Drake with the invitation to go to Katz's with my father and Elaine. I mentioned that Nathaniel was happy to let me use the studio to work on the canvas and that we could go by before lunch if we wanted.
He texted me back in a few minutes.
Katz's sounds good. Haven't been for a while. I can pick you up at around eleven to go to the studio. Will you be ready?
I let him know that would work fine and went to shower and get ready to go out.
Drake arrived at ten forty-five and texted me that he was on the street. I picked up my backpack with my sketchbook and pencils and left the apartment.
"So, where is this artist's hideaway?" he said when I got in the car. "Where do young artist-type pot-smoking hipsters hang out now? When I was in college, it was in Soho, but it's really expensive there now."
"In an old commercial building on West 36th and 7th Avenue. It's not too far from your place in Chelsea."
"That's some pretty expensive real estate."
"His dad is like Rockefeller-rich in the oil business and could probably afford to buy a whole city block in Chelsea," I said, remembering Nathaniel's description of his father's ranch, his collection of old cars, and his lizard-skin cowboy boots. Nathaniel was always drawn to New York City and couldn't wait to leave Texas.
We found a park & lock that was nearby the building. The door to the building was open so we went right in. We took the creaky old elevator to the studio, which was on the fourth floor and took up the east and north sides of the building so that it got day-long ambient light and early morning light. It would be a great place to work for a morning person like me.
From the elevator, we could already hear music blaring from the studio – some progressive rock that I didn't recognize. The door was down the hall to the north and was unlocked. I pushed the door open and the familiar scent of linseed oil, paints, and paint thinner filled my nose, taking me back two years to when I met Nathaniel and we spent time in the art studio at Columbia.
