Claire spent the next day at the Museum of Modern Arts. She got there in time for a seven thirty guided meditation session. She grabbed a mat and made herself comfortable in front of Claude Monet’s Water Lilies. While relaxing her mind and clearing her thoughts, she wondered how something like this would go over at her studio. She’d put Martie on setting it up for a trial basis. It would get some people inside her studio who otherwise would probably never set foot inside. Maybe she could go a step further and host a yoga class. The more comfortable she could make people feel coming through her doors, the more clients she could culture.

This idea alone was worth the trip over.

That and having a conversation with Grayson that she probably never would have initiated face to face.

She blushed a little at the memory that she’d accidentally asked him to send her a picture. That was something she never would have done. She could only imagine what he must have thought.

After the meditation session, a man who looked vaguely familiar approached her.

“Claire Worthington?”

She didn’t answer. She wasn’t here in a business capacity. She was wearing jeans and canvas sneakers. No one was supposed to know she was here.

“I’m Allen Samuels. We met at a fundraiser here a few years ago.”

“Right,” she said. She recognized him as someone she’d met before. “You’re with…”

“I’m with Dolls for Rags Foundation.”

She remembered him then. Danielle had gotten a group in her high school involved in doing some fundraising for them. She’d spoken with Allen several times on the phone. He was about ten years older than she was and she’d always found him a pleasant man to work with. He wasn’t bad to look at either.

“Of course,” she said. “I remember you now. My mind was somewhere else.”

“Understandably,” he said. “I’m sorry to interrupt like this.”

“I don’t mind,” she said.

“I’ve been meaning to call you about a collaborative project, so you can only imagine how surprised I was to see you here. It’s almost like I conjured you up.”

Claire laughed. “Perhaps you did.”

“Do you want to get coffee?” he asked. “Or maybe lunch.”

“Coffee sounds good, but I don’t think anything is open yet,” she said. In truth, she wanted to get the meeting with him over with so she could resume her wandering.

“I think they open for coffee for the meditation crowd.”

They went to the Terrace and found a table next to the window with a clear view of the skyline and street below. Claire ordered a cappuccino while Allen ordered coffee.

“What did you have in mind?” she asked.

“Right the point, I see. Alright. I’m think of expanding Dolls for Rags out your way.”

“Great. How can I help?”

He stretched out his legs and sipped his coffee. “I’m looking for a partner.”

The hairs on the back of Claire’s neck tingled. She’d never had the need for a partner. Never wanted to have a partner.

“You seem to be doing quite well on your own,” she said.

“I am,” he agreed. “But you see, my wife died recently and I’m just not enjoying the work like I used to.”

“Oh,” Claire said, burying her expression in her coffee cup.

“I know. It sounds like a sad story, so I won’t bore you with it. But…” he waited until she looked up and met his gaze. “I heard through the grapevine that you’re divorced now and I thought maybe we could become friends.”

Claire bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud. It was the oddest proposal she had ever been presented with. Was he asking her to become a business partner or a romantic partner?

“I’m not sure what you’re asking me,” she said.

“Ah hell, I’m not either. But I’ve always been attracted to you. And we obviously share interests. I guess I was hoping we could work together or play a bit. Or both.”

Claire laughed out loud. She couldn’t help it. To his credit, he laughed with her.

Allen’s… proposition was flattering. She’d known him for some time. He had a stellar reputation in the art community. She’d always found him attractive.

Now that his wife had passed away, he was doubtless considered an eligible bachelor.

Ideally, he was a perfect match for her. Same social standing. Same interests. Similar career goals. Age appropriate.

Yet, she couldn’t stop thinking of a certain Air Force veteran with gorgeous blue eyes. He’d kissed her ever so lightly the night before she’d run away from him. He’d kissed her and awakened so many memories that intertwined with the unexpected longing for more. So many feelings that she had been overwhelmed.

“I’m flattered,” she said, biting her lip to stop laughing. “But I’m here for a sort of personal pilgrimage.”

“I understand,” he said, holding his hands up. “No pressure.” He picked up a little square napkin and wrote his name and phone number on it before sliding it toward her. He winked. “In case you change your mind.”

He stood up and held out his hand. She placed her palm against his and he kissed the back of her hand.

She felt absolutely nothing, aside from a little discomfort. Her gaze darted around the room, but no one seemed to be paying them any heed.

“Until we meet again,” he said.

“Take care of yourself, Allen,” she said and meant it. He was a nice guy.

As he walked away, she folded the napkin and tucked it in her handbag. She turned her gaze back to the view as she finished her coffee.

Claire had been well-schooled in controlling strong emotions. She was quite good at keeping her feelings under control. Danielle had been the one exception to that for the most part.

The other exception had been Grayson. When they’d been together, she’d felt overwhelming love. Then, after she didn’t hear from him, that emotion had turned to despair. She’d hidden it, of course. She’d hidden it so well, that she’d convinced herself that she was over him. And had ended up married to Noah.

She watched as a pigeon landed on a neighboring rooftop. Even here in the midst of the city, nature still ran its course.

She took a deep, ragged breath. It was natural to have feelings. Human.

Her parents had been wrong in sending her to etiquette classes. Well, perhaps they hadn’t been wrong. There was certainly some merit in having control of strong emotions.

There was also merit in having feelings.

Claire had loved Grayson. She had never stopped loving him. Neither of them were to blame for what had happened to keep them apart all those years ago. Perhaps it had been divine intervention. They were who they were because of what happened. And because of Danielle, she wouldn’t go back and change what had happened for anything.

The fact that they’d found each other again after twenty years was a major miracle in itself. They hadn’t even been looking. It had been fate. It had to be.

Moving forward, she had no reason to deny herself what she felt for Grayson. In the great scheme of life, a few weeks with Grayson could be worth more than twenty years with someone else. If it led to a long-distance relationship, so what? She wasn’t giving anything up.

Sure. She would be giving up the option of dating someone like Allen Samuels. But she didn’t care about Allen Samuels. Or any of the other guys who might be out there.

There was only guy she cared about.

Grayson Moore.

And it was quality, not quantity.

She wanted to go home. Right now.

The streets of New York were alive with millions moving about.

She was in awe that there was only one person on this earth that she wanted to be with right now.

She closed her eyes as the emotions washed over her.

She was here. She may as well spend the day in the museum. She’d fly out in the morning.

She smiled at the way she instinctively went practical. Years of training and practice didn’t disappear in an instant.

She sent a quick text to Grayson. See you tomorrow?

He wrote back in an instant. Sounds perfect.

She grinned. Thanks to modern technology, things were already different this time around.

When Claire answered the door the next evening, Grayson was in awe. Claire was wearing those yoga-type pants and a long t-shirt over them. She had on white canvas sneakers that she wore just about everywhere except to work. She had on no make-up and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

He’d never seen her look more beautiful.

It had to be the smile she wore. Unlike most of the time they’d spent together, she didn’t have that air of suspiciousness about her. Her smile was all over her face. But mostly he noticed it in her eyes.

“You’re beautiful,” he said. She always was, but this was different. More relaxed. And open.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Sorry for what?” he asked. What could she possibly have to be sorry about?

“I’m sorry I ran away.”

He laughed. “I’m the one who should apologize. I’m the one who scared you away.”

“I shouldn’t be skittish,” she said.

“It’s cute.”

“Come inside,” she said and he followed her back to the kitchen. “I was just about to put something in the oven.”

“Do you want some help?”

“Sure,” she said, handing him her kitchen shears. “You can open this jar of artichokes and cut them into little pieces.”

Grayson tested the lid. “I see why you wanted me over here. To open this jar.”

She laughed. “Guilty.”

“Do you have an old knife or screwdriver?”

He could open the jar, but didn’t dare use what was no doubt expensive silverware in her collection.

She opened a drawer and pulled out a screwdriver. “Will this do?”

“Perfect.” He rapped it in three places on the top of the lid and it popped open with a simple twist.

“I never can get that to work,” she said.

“It’s all in the wrist.”

While he cut up artichokes, she buttered a deep casserole dish, added two packs of cherry tomatoes, and stirred in some crushed townhouse crackers. She added a few more pats of butter along with some sun-dried tomato vinaigrette salad dressing. “I never said it was exactly healthy,” she said.

“Looks a lot healthier than how I usually eat,” he admitted.

She added in spices and stirred in his artichokes, then put the whole thing in the oven.

“It looks good,” he said. “What’s it called?”

“I call it my sun-dried tomato dish,” she said.

He took a step toward her and she didn’t back away. He took another step and was now in her space. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked into those gorgeous green eyes. As he bent close, she closed her eyes and tilted her head up. He placed his lips next to the corner of her mouth. Her intake of breath was ragged. He put his arms around her and pulled her against him.

“Oh,” he said. “I brought you something.” He’d nearly forgotten.

“What is it?

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the tickets to the baseball game. “Tickets for Saturday’s game,” he said, fanning the three tickets.

“You got three,” she said.

“Of course. You don’t think I’d leave Danielle out, do you?”

She grinned. And wrapped her arms around him. “You’re awesome.”

Her phone rang. “It’s Martie,” she said.

“Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll just answer some student emails on my phone.”

Claire wandered down the hall as she talked to her assistant. Grayson hadn’t been exaggerating. He only thought he had a lot of emails to answer before the test. Turns out he was even more inundated after the test.

He couldn’t understand why a student who hadn’t had the time to prepare for an exam wanted to ask for more work. He politely stated that he had a policy against extra credit and let it go. While he typed, he sat down at Claire’s breakfast table. After he finished answering all his emails, he set down his phone and waited.

His gaze wandered to a note pad where she had scribbled notes about yoga and meditation classes. Intrigued, he read over her notes. Her ideas were spot on.

Get people in. Get them comfortable.

And they become customers.

He heard her say the word yoga to Martie. Claire was one of the most driven people he had ever met. She didn’t just talk about doing things. She did them.

He flipped the page, wondering what else she had come up with during her two days in New York museums. And there, tucked beneath the page was a napkin. A man’s name and a phone number was scrawled across the napkin. The handwriting was definitely not Claire’s.

Allen Samuels.

Hearing Claire wrapping up her conversation, he dropped the paper to conceal the napkin and picked up his phone. As she come in his direction, he stood up.

“That was Martie,” she said. “We’re starting up a meditation class.”

“That sounds interesting,” he said. Actually, it was fascinating, but he couldn’t think past the buzzing in his ears. Had Claire picked up a guy while she was in New York?

While she checked the dish in the oven, she chatted about how she’d come up with the idea for the class. “I wish I’d thought of it myself,” she said. “But I don’t think there’s anything wrong with building on an idea,” she said, straightening to face him. Her face was alive with excitement.

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” he said. “I admire your grit in making things happen.”

Some of the excitement faded from her expression as she watched him. He scrubbed at his face. “I need to borrow your restroom,” he said.

He turned and strode to her restroom. He closed the door and stood there, inhaling deeply.

This was not good. He didn’t want to be the guy who put a downer on his girl’s ideas. Just the opposite. He was supportive. He loved her idea. He just couldn’t get the thought of her meeting someone in New York out of his head.

Maybe he didn’t really know her. He only knew who she used to be. Or what she appeared to be. He didn’t know the circumstances of her divorce. He hadn’t asked and didn’t think it was his business.

Was Claire the kind of girl who went off and met guys on a whim?

His gut said no.

He splashed cool water on his face. In truth, they hadn’t talked about their relationship being exclusive. Did adults even do that? In high school, they’d said they were “going together.” When did they get to the point of not seeing other people? He’d just assumed they were exclusive.

Perhaps he had no right to do that. Perhaps it needed to be stated. Talked about. Considered.

It had been a couple of years since he’d had a steady girlfriend. He couldn’t even remember how they’d gotten to point of being steady. Or if they even had. He’d like her, but he couldn’t remember worrying too much about what she did with her own time.

Again, he had a tendency to make a lot of assumptions.

But not with Claire. He didn’t want to mistakenly make assumptions. And he surely didn’t want her going to New York or anywhere for that matter picking up men.

“Grayson, are you alright?” Claire asked from the other side of the door.

“I’m okay. I’ll be out in a minute.”

Whatever it was, he couldn’t go all Neanderthal on her. He didn’t know how she was coping with his leaving again.

He had to take it slow and let the relationship build. When the time was right, he’d bring it up and they could agree to be exclusive. Whatever people called it these days.

He would most definitely bring it up before he left for Pittsburgh.

Feeling much calmer now, he found her in the kitchen getting plates from the cabinet.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” she asked. “You looked a little unwell for a minute.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m good. I’m probably just need to eat something.”

“It’s ready,” she said.

“Great. Here,” he said, reaching for the hot pad. “Let me get that out.”

Some of the suspiciousness was back in her eyes. He kicked himself for that. She filled their plates with the tomato casserole and they went into the living room, and settled on the couch to eat.

“Wow. This is really, really good,” he said, after the first bite.

She chucked. “You sound surprised.”

“You’re the one who self-professed not to do much cooking.”

“Just because I don’t do it much, doesn’t mean I can’t,” she said with a mischievous smile.

“I’ll have to remember that about you. You’re a woman of many hidden talents.”

“That’s right,” she said.

“Want to tell me about other hidden talents?” he asked. Even as he said the words, he knew he was headed down a path he’d told himself he wouldn’t go.

“Oh no,” she said, teasingly. “Discovery is the best part of the process.”

“Is that so?” he asked.

“It is. Besides, think about how little I know about you,” she said. “I haven’t even been to your place. I don’t have any idea how you live.”

“It’s nothing to get excited about,” he said. “I promise.”

“Maybe not, but you know everything about me. You know my decorating style. I don’t even know what color hand towels you have.”

“Hand towels?”

“Yeah. You know. Basic stuff.”

He thought about his little apartment. And compared it to her fancy house. Once she saw how he lived, she may lose interest in him. He didn’t and couldn’t live the way she did. She had done a nice job of distracting him from the mysterious Allen Samuels. He may as well get it over with. His philosophy was to snap it off like a band-aid. If she didn’t like that part of him, it was a good time to find out.

“Alright,” he said. “Tomorrow then.”

“Tomorrow then what?”

“Tomorrow I’ll cook dinner for you at my house.”

She looked at him sideways. “Okay,” she said.

“Hey,” he held up his hands. “It was your idea.”

“So we’re seeing each other three days in a row.”

And he thought he was quick to cut to the chase. Seeing each other. That didn’t sound quite as committed as going together.

He shrugged. “Unless you have something already planned.” He sat back. “I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“No,” she said. “I don’t.”

“We can wait. Take a break.”

“No,” she said. “I don’t want to take a break.”

“Claire,” he said. “If you have something else going on, just tell me.”

“I don’t have anything else going on.”

“If there’s someone else in New York… it’s okay.”

She huffed out a breath. “There’s not anyone in New York. I just needed to clear my head. That’s all. I didn’t even get out except to go to two museums.”

He shouldn’t ask about it directly. If he did, he’d be admitting that he’d looked through her papers. But… if he didn’t ask about it, it was going to eat at him.

After dinner, Claire put their plates in the dishwasher. She couldn’t figure out what was going on with Grayson.

He’d been different since she took the call from Martie. Was he jealous of work? He shouldn’t be. He’d spent the time answering emails from students. Did he think Martie was someone else? Another man, perhaps?

“You know Martie’s a girl, right?” She said suddenly, whirling around to face him.

“Of course,” he said. “I met her, remember, at your fundraiser.”

“Right,” she said. Wiping off the cabinet. Still. Something was off. “That was Martie who called earlier.”

“I know. You told me.”

“Do you want to watch TV?” she asked.

“Sure.”

They went into the living room and turned on the television. Whatever it was, it wasn’t bad enough that he wanted to leave, but it was bad enough that he was acting distant.

“Was everything okay with your emails?” she asked.

“Yeah. Just normal questions from students.”

“Then what’s bothering you?”

He just stared at her.

“I’ll get us some water,” she said, standing up. She started toward the kitchen, then stopped and stood squarely in front of him. “I know something’s bothering you. Since I talked to Martie. But I can’t figure out what it could be.”

“Something is bothering me, but I can’t figure out how to tell you.”

She crossed her arms. “That’s better. Maybe you should just spit it out.”

“I’m worried that you met someone in New York.”

“Okay, maybe you should spit it out in such a way that it makes sense to me.”

He inhaled deeply, locked his gaze on hers. “Alright. While you were talking to Martie I sat at your table and happened to see your notes about the yoga classes. I think it’s an awesome idea, by the way. After I finished my emails, I was thinking about your classes and I read your notes.” He paused. Waited.

“Okay,” she said.

“I saw the phone number for Allen Samuels,” he said.

“What phone…?” She must have left that napkin in her papers from her trip. He was worried about that? She snorted. Then bit her lip.

“What?”

“You should have just told me.”

“I didn’t want you to think I was snooping.”

“I’d rather think you were snooping than acting all funny.”

“Okay,” he said.

“Allen gave me his phone number. He asked me to call him about a business deal. Then he started to hit on me. So I told him I wasn’t interested.”

“You kept the number.”

“He’s a business colleague whose wife recently passed away. I think he’s going through some stuff.”

“I see.”

“Grayson, you have to tell me these things. You have to tell me what’s bothering you and not keep it inside.”

“You’re right,” he said.

“You teach this stuff, right?”

“I do. But helping others do it is a whole lot easier than doing it myself.”

“Don’t worry, okay?”

He stood up, pulled her close, and wrapped his arms around her. “Okay, my love, I won’t worry. But I have an early meeting in the morning and I need to look over my notes for tomorrow’s classes.”

“You’re leaving,” she said against his shoulder.

He nudged her back a bit, and she saw the smile playing about his lips. “Don’t worry, okay?”

“Ha. Point taken.”

She walked him to the door. He kissed her goodnight. A gentle kiss on the lips. More. She wanted more. But he kissed her on the forehead and then he was gone. “Lock the door,” he said as he stepped out.

She locked the door and set the alarm before she went back to sit on the couch and hugged a pillow to her.

It was early, but she should have heard from Danielle already. She sent her a text asking for her ETA.

Might sleep over at Sam’s. Do you mind?

Yes. Instead she typed. No. Just let me know.

A couple of minutes later Danielle wrote back. See you tomorrow.

Another evening to herself. Her interactions with Grayson had felt off. That was the only way to describe it. The evening had started off well enough. Then after she’d talked to Martie, things had changed. He said it was because he’d found Allen Samuel’s phone number. Surely he hadn’t really been worried about that.

Then she remembered seeing a text come through on her ex-husband, phone. She still remembered the words. Looking forward to our trip.

He’d explained it away. It was a female pilot. Michelle maybe? Noah said they had a flight together – the first one in some time. He explained that Michelle tended to blur boundaries.

But more than the words and the explanation, she remembered the feeling. Just thinking about it brought that sick feeling back to the pit of her stomach. It was the kind of thing that never went away.

She got up, went into the kitchen, and found the napkin with Allen’s phone number. She balled it up and tossed in the trash. She should have done that to start with. She’d thought they could work together. But Allen wasn’t in a place to do that right now. Maybe later. If so, he could contact her. She wasn’t hard to find.

There was nothing else she could do about it now. She just needed to give Grayson time. Time to believe her.

Keep moving forward.