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I hesitate. “If I have to be. Usually, I’m out the door by eight-thirty though.”
The awkwardness of our situation sinks in and that conversation comes to a halt once more. We stare at each other, her eyes quickly shifting as she slowly moves from the kitchen back towards the hallway.
“Well, I’m going to get ready. Let me know when the coffee gets here?”
I nod, watching without words as she scampers down the hallway towards her room. The sound of the door closing echoes in my ears.
Three hours later, I sit at the bar in my kitchen, staring at my watch and wondering where she is. It’s already quarter past nine and we’re supposed to be meeting Mr. Moore at ten. I hate being late.
I had told her this morning, and even again when I brought her coffee and a muffin, that we needed to be walking out the door at nine. But is she ready? No. Irritation fills me as I grit my teeth together, trying to keep myself calm so as to not explode at her the moment she shows her face.
“Sorry!” she exclaims as she comes running down the hallway, slipping on a white pair of flats with her purse in her hand. The meeting is business casual, and though most might find her flowing white and yellow dress just that, I can’t help but admire how gorgeous she is.
Her long red hair is pinned up at the sides as it flows down over her shoulders in waves, highlighting how stunning she is even with barely any makeup on. Not that she needs it. The natural beauty she holds is what captivated me to begin with.
When her eyes meet mine, though, I quickly regain control of myself. “Shall we?”
* * *
Thirty minutes later, we finally arrive at Balthazar’s Restaurant. The tall gray brick is lined with black trimmed windows. Red canopies above the door stand in contrast to the rest of the city. The restaurant is one of the best in New York, people typically lining up around the block to get in.
But of course, Mr. Moore knows the owner. And this just so happens to be his favorite place.
The moment we step inside, I hear Kylie gasp. The vaulted ceilings make the place look much bigger than it is. Wooden pillars that are a goldish-yellow tower rise the ceiling, with one wall entirely made of mirrors. And down every center divider that stands between the booths are huge floral arrangements that give the place a feminine charm.
“This place is so beautiful!” she murmurs with excitement, her eyes casting towards the ceiling. “The visual texture of the upper walls and ceiling are all done by hand. There is no other way to get the paints to fade like that…”
Is she sharing that information with me? Or perhaps it’s just her talking to herself. Regardless, it sparks something inside me watching her get excited the way she is.
“Name?” The hostess says, barely glancing at me.
“Lewis, Dante Lewis. I’m meeting Mr. Moore?—”
“Oh yes!” She quickly states, cutting me off with a large smile. “Right this way. Mr. Moore isn’t here yet, but we made sure to prepare his table for your arrival.”
She turns with menus in her arms as we trail behind her, past the large bar area with huge shelves of different liquors that soar towards the ceiling, down a hallway, and into a more private area of booths and round tables.
“Here we are,” the blonde-haired woman says as she places down our menus. “I will be sure to let Mr. Moore know you’ve arrived.”
She quickly disappears, leaving Kylie and I alone. Kylie doesn’t hesitate in taking a seat at the far side of the round table. She lifts the menu as she eyes the items with what looks like a desperate hunger.
“See something you like?” I ask, her eyes meeting mine as she gives me a sheepish grin.
“Um, well the eggs florentine sounds delicious…”
Before we can continue the conversation, a hearty voice calls my name. “Mr. Lewis!”
I turn to see Moore and quickly stand, shaking his hand. “Mr. Moore, thank you for fitting us in this morning.”
“Well, when your secretary called and told me that my artist was going to be in town I couldn’t pass up the chance to meet her myself.” His eyes drift to Kylie. She stands, pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear with a smile.
“It’s nice to meet you,” she says softly. “Thank you so much for taking an interest in my work.”
Moore’s eyes meet mine briefly as he gives a smirk before replying. “Well, after seeing the work that you do, I would be a fool to pass on this kind of opportunity. It’sveryimpressive. And I only want the best for this project.” He gestures to the table and we all take our seats.
Kylie’s cheeks flush as her eyes drift back to her menu. As soon as drinks and food are ordered, we settle into more important things.
“So, Mr. Moore,” Kylie starts, a pen and notebook in her hand. “Can you tell me about the pieces for your office? What subjects are you thinking of? Do you have a color scheme in mind?”
