Page 82 of Last First Date

I walked up to her door and knocked lightly. When she didn’t answer immediately, my heart jumped. What if she had left early? What if she didn’t want to hear my apology?

Just as I was about to turn around and walk away, the door creaked open. She stood there, eyes still heavy with sleep. Somehow she managed to smile.

“I’m sorry, were you sleeping?”

“Yeah. I overslept. I’m sorry. Did you need me for something?”

“I was just wondering if you still wanted to do some sightseeing.”

She nodded. “Yes, I want to see all of it. The Statue of Liberty, Central Park, Times Square. Everything.”

I couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. Despite the tension between us, her spirit was infectious. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that cramming all of New York into a single day was a near-impossible feat.

“Alright,” I said after a moment. “Let’s get ready then.”

A few hours later, we found ourselves in the heart of New York City, blending into the crowds. As we strolled through the city streets, her hand accidentally brushed against mine. It felt like a spark of electricity shot right through my arm. I yearned to take her hand in mine again but held back.

I could still feel the lingering tension from the party the night before. The way other men had fawned over her drove me crazy. It had left me unsettled. But this was a chance to have her all to myself, a day in the city I loved, and I wanted to share it with her.

Our first stop was a quiet café, away from the tourist hotspots. It was a place I used to escape to back when I used to get recognized all the time. I didn’t have to worry about being recognized anymore, but I still loved the cafe. We sat by the window, sipping our lattes and enjoying the sunny day, despite it still being chilly outside.

“This place used to be my sanctuary,” I admitted, my gaze fixed on the passing people. “Back at the height of my career, I couldn’t go anywhere without someone stopping me and wanting to get a picture or an autograph.”

Waverly nodded. “I can see why you loved it here. It feels like a small-town cafe rather than one in a city this size.”

“Yeah.” I took a sip of my coffee. “I guess I needed a little bit of calm in all the storm.”

She smiled at that. It was the first time I had seen her truly smile since the night before.

“I’m glad you’re sharing it with me,” she said softly.

“Me too,” I said sincerely. “I hope I can show you a few of the places I liked to visit when I lived here, things that aren’t in any of your travel brochures.”

“I’d like that,” she said, smiling.

We finished our coffee and set out toward the heart of the city. As we walked, I pointed out certain buildings or landmarks that had a personal significance to me. She listened intently, her face lighting up with interest.

Our next stop was a lesser known art gallery tucked away in one of the quieter neighborhoods. The paintings hung on the walls were full of vibrant colors and abstract shapes, each one telling a different story.

“I used to come here whenever I wanted some quiet time.”

She looked amazed as she walked around, taking in each painting with a look of wonder. “I never imagined you as an art guy.”

I chuckled. “I would never claim to be a critic, but I do like art.”

“Do you ever go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art?”

“Ah, the Met.” I nodded and smiled. “Yes, I love it there, but it gets too crowded for me. This place is quieter and has its own charm. You get to meet local artists here.”

Her eyes widened. “Really? That sounds amazing.”

With a grin, I led her to one of my favorite pieces, an abstract painting depicting the chaotic beauty of life in New York City. We stood there in silence, just taking in the details.

“If we had more time, we could go to the Met, but that’s an all-day thing. Do you like art?”

“I don’t mind it, but I could never imagine spending thousands of dollars on a painting that looks like a three-year-old did it.”

I laughed. “I understand. I’m not much into the abstract stuff. I like some of the Van Gogh stuff and similar types.”