“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He rolled his eyes. “I thought engagement parties were something only women did.”
“It’s a combination engagement, loft-warming party. And there will be beer.” Something occurred to me. “You could always bring a date. Make a weekend of it in the Big Apple.”
Tackle crossed his arms in front of him. “Yeah, maybe.”
I climbed inside my vehicle, started the engine, and waved out the window as I drove away. As I turned the corner onto the main drag, I saw Sloane’s car heading in the opposite direction. I honked and waved, but she didn’t see me.
“Call Sloane,” I said to the on-board computer.
“Hey, Knox,” she answered.
“I just passed you. Did you need something?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you headed to my place?”
“Oh! Uh, no. Just meeting a friend for lunch.”
That seemed odd since it was ten in the morning. “I’ll see you next week?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
I waited until I passed the exit for Worcester before I called Tara. “Hey, baby. I’m on my way. I got an early start. I’m about three hours out.”
“Okay.”
I smiled. “Whatcha’ doin’?”
She laughed. “Painting. Sorry. When did you say you’d be here?”
“Three hours. Should I go straight to the loft or stop by the gallery?”
“You can go to the loft. I’ll, uh, meet you there.”
“Sounds good. I love you, Tara.”
“I love you too, Knox.”
Two hours and fifty-seven minutes later, I pulled up in front of the Catarina Benedetto Gallery and parked in the loading zone. I punched the code into the keypad at the front door and walked inside.
“Hey, Pen.” She looked up, waved, and went back to what she was doing.
I eased open the door of the studio, then closed and locked it behind me. Tara’s back was to me, but I could see she had the end of the paintbrush in her mouth while she studied the painting in front of her.
I walked over to her, careful to make as little noise as possible, and wrapped my arm around her waist. She rested her hand on mine. “What did you do, fly here? What time is it?”
“One on the dot. Well, a little after. What are you painting?” It looked like something out of Italy, maybe even at Valentini, but nowhere I recognized.
“I don’t know. I keep dreaming about you and me being in this place. I woke up this morning and knew I had to paint it.”
“It kind of looks like a church.”
“I was thinking the same thing.” Tara dipped her brush in the water and then into the purple paint and added small flowers to a vine growing near the door of the building.
“But you don’t know where it is?”
“No idea.”