I am going to celebrate my birthday without feeling guilty or sad.

Today is going to be a great day.

After several minutes of trying to hail a cab, I suggest, “Let’s walk down Bleecker and take the subway on West Fourth Street.”

“No, I want this to be a surprise.” Glancing at his vintage watch, he mutters, “Shit, I should have gotten a driver today.”

Just when Julian is about to pull up his Lyft app, we finally flag a cab. After providing a piece of paper to the cab driver with the address of our destination, Julian turns to face me.  A smile so wide forms on his chiseled face, and it makes me giddy with excitement.

“I know the city way too well,” I say, teasingly. 

Taking a dark purple eye mask out of his pocket, Julian instructs me to put it on. “Darling, that’s why you’re going to wear this−”

“Are you serious?” I ask.

“Serious as can be. Today is going to be a day full of surprises for the beautiful birthday girl.” He nods at the mask. “Please put the eye mask on now.”

Noticing the hesitation on my face, he urges, “Trust me; this will make it much more of a surprise.”

Trust me.

I eventually comply, and it feels strange to wear the mask. Julian’s tone is menacing when he confesses, “This mask is doing things to me. Not good, not good at all.”  

Nervous laughter escapes my mouth and I wonder if he’s serious. 

A few minutes go by with only the radio on. I move my body slightly to face him. “You have a driver in LA and in San Francisco.  Why don’t you have a driver here?”

There’s no mistaking the chuckle in his voice.  “I don’t have one in San Francisco.  Leonard is Father’s driver. Driving through LA traffic is like driving through Dante’s Inferno. I love this city in all its glory.  And that includes walking everywhere, dealing with crazy cab drivers, no offense, mate … and even taking subways.”  I couldn’t agree with him more. “There’s something about being in a city so dense that even when I’m alone, I’m really not.”  The sound of the cabbie screaming at pedestrians as he listens to Indian music instills laughter.

Our ride to the surprise destination takes us about twenty-five minutes. During the ride, Julian’s phone rings. “Excuse me; I should get this.”

“Alistair, I’m busy right now.  Can it wait? I’m with Lina. For Christ’s sake, I’m not going to tell her that. I’ll call you tomorrow. No, I’m spending the day with her.  Today is her birthday.” He remains quiet for a few seconds, and I have no doubt that he’s rolling his eyes. “What? Again? I told you not to fuck your assistant. Just, just call Cecelia.  She can help you with the arrangements. No, don’t even think about it. She’s in a relationship.  Do. Not. Make. Her. Uncomfortable. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Julian sighs, and I can hear the annoyance in his voice.

I reach for his hand, and when it touches mine, I squeeze it lightly.  “Is everything okay?”

“You know Alistair.  Everything is a fucking emergency.”

“I have to admit that when I saw him at your father’s, I was a bit surprised.  He was so …”

“So intoxicated?  So desperate?”

“Well, since you put it out there. Yes. But he’s always been a good guy.  He just seems …”

I should definitely not mention the dirty words Alistair whispered in my ear or the way he called me a cunt.

“Lost.”  He snickers. “My cousin is brilliant and not many people know he’s an incredible artist. He’s talented enough that with the right manager and gallery, he can make a great living.  But he doesn’t believe in himself.  He spends too much time chasing women and throwing money away.  I worry about him. His affinity for getting into trouble is getting old.”

“Julian, you’re the only one he has.  I know his mother is alive, but I recall her not being too motherly.”

“He hasn’t seen or spoken to her in years.  Father’s the only parental figure he’s ever had besides Mum. Alistair and I have our differences, but he is family. And thank you, Lina, you’re the only one who understands me and the dynamics within my family.”

A few seconds pass before I nudge his arm.  “Well, are you going to reveal what Alistair wanted you to tell me?”

“No,” he answers firmly.

“Come on, Julian.  Just tell me,” I beg.

“No.”  Julian is more adamant than before.

“It’s my birthday. Pleeeeease.”  If I didn’t have the mask on, I would have batted my eyelashes. My pleading should be enough.

He sighs loudly. “Alistair’s been thinking about fucking you since the party.”

“Oh …”

“That is never going to happen.” He shifts his position before placing his hand on my shoulder.  My senses are on overdrive.  And when his mouth brushes against my ear, my heart begins to rapidly beat. I’m surprised it hasn’t jumped out of my chest. Julian lingers a bit then whispers in a low voice, “Although I don’t blame him for desiring you.”

I swallow hard.  Thank God for the mask.  There would be no way of hiding the desire behind these eyes of mine. Is he insinuating that he’s thought about being intimate with me? The idea of him getting off while thinking of me thrills me. My panties are soaked. My thighs instinctively press together, trying to suppress the ache between them. I want you to want me. I exhale, and my head tilts back.

“Fuck, Lina.” His warm breath caresses my ear.  

Is it me or is it intensely hot in here?

The cab abruptly stops. 

We both take a deep breath.  And although I can’t see a thing, I can feel Julian adjusting himself. My mouth waters just thinking of Julian with an erection.

“Don’t take the mask off.  Not until I tell you to,” he instructs while paying our cab fare.  

My senses were on overdrive a few minutes ago, but it doesn’t compare to what I’m experiencing at this moment. Everything around me attacks the desire building inside me. The blaring sound of cars fighting through traffic. The scent of delicious hot dogs and pretzels make my stomach growl. When I tilt my head up, a few drops of rain fall on my face. The jolt of electricity I feel when Julian takes my hand as he guides me through this surprise, shocks through my entire body, igniting that sensation I thought had been swept into the cab.

His lips brush my ear. He catches me off guard when his deep, raspy voice instructs me, “Take it slow, darling.  I’ve got you. Don’t let go and I promise I won’t let you fall.  Ever.”   

How could such an ordinary phrase knock me speechless?

He kisses my palm.

In a matter of minutes, I no longer feel the April morning chill of New York.  We stop, and I am dying to know where we are.  I hear click, click, click, the sound of high heels, and the volume intensifies. The clicking stops, and the scent of very strong perfume assaults me. I cough a little. 

“Mr. Caine, everything is ready for you and Miss James.  Since this is a surprise, we’ll take it slow,” she says in a warm Australian accent.

With his arm wrapped tightly around me, we walk for several minutes before the sharp sound of an elevator door opening greets us. The lift takes us up. In all this time, Julian remains by my side as I allow him to lead me to God knows where.

Click, click, click.  

Where in the world are we?  

Halting our steps, Julian’s places his hand on my lower back. The lady addresses us. “Mr. Caine, Miss James, please let me know if you need additional assistance.” Rather than take my eye mask off, Julian waits a few more minutes, and the click clicking of her shoes fades away.

Standing behind me, Julian places a strong hand on my right hip. I can’t help but take his scent in. It is woodsy and spicy; a fragrance that screams “man” and absolutely turns me on.

“Lina,” he says before stopping himself. I feel the rise and fall of his chest against my back. “Are you ready?” For the first time since we’ve reconnected, he sounds nervous.

“Yes, my God! Yes!”  I immediately answer with enthusiasm.

Although I have the mask on, I close my eyes, just to inhale his scent again. He whispers in my ear, “Happy Birthday,” before slipping the mask off my face.

The sight before me astounds me.  We’re on the fifth floor of the Museum of Modern Art Building, and right before my eyes is Edvard Munch’s pastel-on cardboard version of the iconic piece, The Scream. Only four versions were made, and three are in Norway.  I had recently read that the version before me had been purchased for a record-breaking $119 million. How could Julian have remembered my fascination with this painting?

“Are you surprised?” he asks with trepidation.

“Are you kidding me?  I’ve always wanted to see this work.  This piece in particular because it’s the most personal of the four.  How did you remember?”

“You always talked about going to Norway to see the originals. But this−” as he nods to Munch’s most famous piece−“is from a private collection and on loan for a few more weeks.”

Julian astounds me when he says “I remember the day Roman took us to Strand. You came across a biography of Munch, and once your father revealed The Scream was your mum’s favorite piece, you became obsessed with its history.”

We sit on a bench, studying my favorite piece of art. Julian seems content with just being here and watching me enjoy the masterpiece before me.  “Did you know the frame was actually painted by Munch himself? There’s also a poem that details the work’s inspiration,” I say with a smile.   I point at The Scream. “Look, this is the only version with someone stooping in the background.” After admiring the work for a good thirty minutes, I turn my head and face this thoughtful man. He’s smiling at me. I lean and place my head on his shoulder.

“This is amazing.  What a wonderful gift, Julian,” I say before lifting my head to kiss his cheek.

“I … I didn’t know if this would be a good idea.”

“Julian, really, it’s perfect. Right now, I feel close to my dad. He loved this artwork as well. Also, being able to discuss him has really helped me.”

“Although I couldn’t get you the original, I thought seeing the artwork in person−” 

Before he can finish his thought, I interrupt him. “Thank you for remembering. I just can’t believe that the timing is perfect. The framed copy you gave me still hangs in my studio.”

“I know you and Roman were scheduled to travel to Norway right after your thirteenth birthday. Let me fulfill his wish. When you’re ready, please let me take you.”

Squeezing his hand, I gush, “I would love that.”

Julian looks like he’s about to say something but then stops himself. I continue to enjoy the artwork and thank him again.

“You’re welcome.  The day of celebration is not over yet, so we can stay here a wee longer or would you like to continue?”  Our hands remain entwined, the fit so perfect.

“Let’s continue.  It’s been a while since I’ve visited one of my favorite places.”  We stroll through MOMA, viewing more iconic pieces of art−Matisse’s The Dance, Edward Hopper’s The Railroad and Warhol’s Campbell Soup. We could easily spend several hours at the museum but realize we’re hungry when both of our stomachs growl at the same time.

“Was that yours?” he asks.

“No, I think it was yours.”

We stare at one another, both of us unable to suppress our boisterous laughter.

As he tries to catch his breath, “Lina, I know it’s your birthday, but I could really go for some homemade pasta. Are you game for that?”

“That sounds perfect.”

We walk hand in hand on West 53^rd Street both appreciating the light rain as we make our way west. A few minutes later, we find ourselves seated and savoring homemade pasta at Remi.  I reminisce about my early years after college, working for a small record label whose offices were in the same building as the restaurant. Julian devours his chicken milanese as I tell him about my first boss who was always on a diet but still ate pasta from Remi’s daily as if it were his last meal.  “Amen to that,” he says while raising his wine glass.  

Lunch is enjoyable. Disappointment arrives, though, when Julian glances at his watch. “Darling, we need to leave soon.” I can’t remember the last time I had enjoyed myself so much. The past few weeks with Julian Caine.  We flag a cab and head back to my place in silence as his large hand engulfs mine. Every now and then, his thumb rubs the outside of my hand in a soothing, gentle way.  He hums along with the radio as I admire the view, enjoying the city I love−relishing the company of a handsome man who makes me happy. The cabbie parks a few a feet from my building. Julian opens the door for me before instructing the cabbie, “Please keep the meter running. I’ll only be a few minutes.” 

Reality hits me.  

My birthday celebration is over.