21. Daniel
21
DANIEL
“ I ’m so excited,” Rosie says, skipping into the lobby, she’s wearing jeans, a black tee, and flats. Her hair is pulled up into a bun, and she’s got minimal makeup on, and she looks stunning. “Today is perfect, all the girls are hungover and not in the mood to hang out.” She grins as I show her the way to the sidewalk. I thought about getting us a driver, but I think it would be better if we walked or took the subway.
“Okay, what’s the plan for today?” I ask.
“Firstly, I need a coffee and some breakfast so maybe we can walk to SoHo? That’s where a lot of good quality interiors are. It doesn’t look far on the map,” she states, pulling out her phone.
“Come on then,” I say, grabbing her hand. She tries to tug it from me, but I don’t let go. “It’s busy, I don’t want to lose you.” She relents and lets me hold hands as we walk along the streets from Tribeca, where we are staying, up to SoHo. It doesn’t take us long till we see a bakery, and it’s a French one ,too. I order us a couple of croissants and two coffees to go. We continue walking along the streets stopping every few minutes as Rosie stares up at the towering skyscrapers.
“Everything is so tall,” she says, marveling at the skyline. I forget that she’s never been here before and I’m so used to it since I travel here all the time. We have two galleries in New York now, one in Brooklyn, where we were last night, and we have our Manhattan gallery, two very different galleries and clientele.
“You should see the view from my apartment, I’m on the 70 th floor.”
Rosie stills. “That’s right, you have an apartment here, why are you not staying in it?”
“It’s uptown near Central Park not near where we are. The traffic is bad getting from there down to here,” I explain, taking a sip of my coffee.
“Is someone in your apartment now?” she asks.
I shake my head. “No, it’s empty.”
“It’s always empty?”
“It’s a small apartment. I’m here a lot but, yes, it’s always empty,” I answer as we start walking again.
“And all your other places are empty, too?” I nod. “Wow. That is goals right there. One day I want to be that successful that I have homes around the world that I visit.”
I turn and smile at her. “I can see you achieving it.” My compliment makes her smile and even stand a little taller than she was, and I want to make her feel like that again and again. She deserves to be told every day that she is an amazing woman. It’s just not going to be you. She will only be yours for a short time. That thought hits me like a punch to the gut. Rosie Hunt will never be mine.
We continue walking and start exploring the store, I watch in awe as Rosie lights up as she discusses every detail of each piece of furniture and where she thinks they should go. I get lost listening to her babble on about the differences between blush and pink or the different shades of green. Rosie has never looked more beautiful than she does right now, the thing in my chest starts to beat as if it’s been roused from its self-induced hibernation.
I have an idea.
Hours later after Rosie has exhausted every luxury furniture shop in SoHo, I suggest we head uptown so I can show her my apartment. I also suggest that we grab some lunch there. Thankfully, she agrees and I message the building to have lunch ready and waiting for us when we arrive. That’s why I bought where I did, it’s living in a hotel without having to deal with tourists.
“Ew, what is that smell?” she says, crinkling her nose.
“Welcome to the New York subway.” I chuckle.
“It’s worse than London’s,” she says, shaking her head.
I wouldn’t know, I don’t catch the tube at home. Normally, I don’t catch the subway either while here, but I thought she would get a kick out of it. We head uptown in the packed car, get off at 59 th Street, Columbus Circle Station, and walk along the edge of Central Park to my apartment.
“Of course, you live near Central Park.” Rosie smirks as we turn into my apartment.
“Only the best for me,” I tease as the bellman greets me warmly and welcomes us in. We head through the luxurious foyer, which is covered in black marble, brass, and other luxurious interiors which I’m sure Rosie has clocked every bit of. I nod and smile at the concierge who welcomes me back as we head toward the elevators.
“If that is the foyer, I can only guess how gorgeous your apartment is,” she says, getting into the elevator. I press the button to my level, and we head up. I’m suddenly nervous about showing Rosie my place. I hope she likes it and … I don’t know, I guess I want to impress her.
The doors open into the corridor that houses only four apartments. I unlock my door and hold it open for her, which opens into a foyer, where there is a powder room and a coat closet. “Turn left,” I tell her as the corridor splits the living and bedroom areas. She walks down the long corridor, which I’ve used to display more of my art, and into the living room and dining room with its wall-to-wall windows, showing off the stunning view over Central Park and the city.
“Are you fricken serious, Daniel?” Rosie says, rushing toward the windows. “This is your view? This.” She points at the window.
“I forget the awe of seeing it for the first time,” I confess to her. She’s so entranced by the view that she hasn’t noticed the lit candles and place settings with silver domes on the dining table for lunch.
“How can you not appreciate it? This is beautiful. I can see so far.”
“Each bedroom has a view also,” I tell her.
“I don’t know what to say,” she says, shaking her head as she continues to stare out the windows, watching the world below her. I’ve never stopped and stared like she is doing, so I do. I stand beside her and stare, watching the birds fly below us and people walking through the park, narrowing my eyes as I stare at the other buildings, wondering if they can see me watching them. “This place is magical. I thought your home in Mayfair was spectacular but this …”
“Your reaction is making me appreciate it for the first time,” I confess to her as we both stare out the window. She sighs. “Hey, what was that?” I ask, reaching out and touching her arm.
“Oh, nothing.”
“That sigh was something,” I push.
She shakes her head as she chews her bottom lip, and uncertainty falls across her face. “We live completely different lives.” My brows knit together as I stare at her, she then turns to me. “I don’t understand why you’re interested in me. I’m not from your world, and will never be from your world.” Then her shoulders slump and she swallows. “Thanks for today but … um … I better get back.”
“Hey, no, please stay. I’ve organized lunch for us.” I point at the table and that’s when she turns and notices the elegantly spread-out meal.
“When did you have time to …?” Then it dawns on her that someone prepared this for me. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this,” she says and starts heading back down the long corridor.
“Rosie, wait,” I call after her as I rush along the corridor, too. She stops when she feels the light touch of my hand on her arm. “What happened? I don’t understand,” I ask her.
“Whatever is happening between us needs to stop,” she states seriously. Her words hit me hard in the chest. Stop? I thought we just agreed to something and now she wants it to stop. “All this,” she says, waving her hands around her, “it’s not my world. You’re worth millions.” Billions actually, but that is not the point at the moment. “You should be hanging out with heiresses, or royalty, not me. I don’t belong here.” This must be the first time in my life my money has truly turned someone off.
“Money doesn’t make you a good person, Rosie.”
“Spoken like someone who has money,” she bites back. I don’t understand how we ended up here. “Thank you for today and I’m sorry for skipping lunch, but I must go,” she tells me as she edges closer to the door.
“Rosie, please, I’ll take you back.”
She turns and stops in front of me again. “I’d rather be alone.” With that, she walks out of my apartment, and I hear the ding of the elevator and know she’s gone.
I don’t understand what changed.