He pointed east on Forty-Ninth. “This way, my lady.” He put his hand on the small of her back, and though deep down she knew she should push it away, she didn’t.
Marea was located on Central Park South, directly across the street from the park. Katrina tried not to gawk as they entered, but it wasn’t easy. Down a step or two to the right was an elegant dining area, with tables covered with crisp white cloths, and dark hardwood floors encircled by an orderly lineup of bold red lamps on shelves set at regular intervals along the walls. The effect was lavish—even magical—but it was the left side of the room that really caught Katrina’s attention. Carved out of iridescent, honey-colored onyx, the bar seemed to glow, as if illuminating the room in soft light. The back bar, also onyx, was even more stunning. Etched with thick, wavy lines all the way across, it resembled a gigantic, spectacular golden seashell.
“Wow,” Katrina whispered in awe. There weren’t many places like this in Mountain View, at least not that she’d had the pleasure of patronizing.
Reid spoke briefly with the hostess. “Table’s almost ready. How about a drink while we wait?”
“Sure. That sounds nice.” She’d stuck to her guns and ordered a Sprite at the bar they’d just come from, so she figured it would be okay to have a glass of wine, especially at a bar that looked like this one.
Once they’d settled in, the bartender handed each of them a drink menu, then retreated to allow them to peruse their options.
“What’s your poison?” Reid asked.
Katrina hesitated, unsure what to order. “What are you having?”
“Scotch on the rocks, my signature.” He’d had two of those at the other bar.
She swallowed. Scotch definitely didn’t sound like a good idea.
“I think I’ll have a glass of wine.” She scanned the list for a vintage she recognized, or at least one she could pronounce, but didn’t see either. She felt out of her depth. She was back at Soho House all over again.
“Anything catch your eye?” he asked.
She forced a smile and tried to conceal her unease. “Anything white is fine. Why don’t you choose one for me? I’m just going to run to the ladies’ room.”
“You should try the seventy-seven d'Yquem. It’s amazing.”
She did her best to look confident despite having absolutely no idea what that was. “That sounds lovely, thank you.” As she walked toward the restrooms she observed the well-heeled clientele and felt a pang of longing for the low-key ambience of the East Village. Would she ever feel comfortable dining in places like this? Would New York help her grow into that type of person?
Did she want it to?
When she returned a few minutes later, Reid was chatting with the bartender. As she took a seat, he handed her a goblet of wine, then pointed to his own nearly empty glass, indicating that he was ready for another. The bartender nodded and moved away to fix him a fresh drink.
Reid grinned at her. “I love Lagavulin.”
“You love what?”
“Lagavulin. It’s a single-malt scotch.”
She smiled and nodded, insecurity continuing to nip at her heels. She’d never heard of Lagavulin, yet more evidence of her lack of sophistication. “As you can probably guess, I’m not very familiar with scotch.” She took a sip of her wine and willed herself to stop feeling so self-conscious.
Reid finished his drink and set the empty glass on the bar. “That’s because you’re new in town. As I’m sure you’ve observed, that’s what people do in New York. We drink. It’s how life works here.”
“What do you mean?”
He reached for the full glass and began using it as a prop. “Allow me to explain. In the winter, when it’s too freezing to go outside, everyone hunkers down in a bar and bitches about the cold weather—and drinks. Then in the summer, when it’s crazy humid out, everyone hunkers down in a bar and bitches about the hot weather—and drinks. And then when it’s nice in the fall and the spring, when it’s beautiful outside, everyone wants to sit in the sun and enjoy the fabulous weather—over a drink.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “Is that so?”
“Oh it is very much so. You’ve only been here a few weeks, but you’ll see. We’ll get you yet.”
She wasn’t sure how to respond, so she just nodded. She couldn’t deny that a lot of her new friends spent much of their free time in bars, but that couldn’t possibly hold true for everyone, could it?
Would she ever get used to the New York way of doing things?
The hostess appeared and gestured toward the dining room. “Mr. Hanson, your table is ready.” She pointed at Katrina’s nearly full wineglass. “Let me carry that for you.”
Reid polished off his scotch in one smooth swig and set the empty glass on the bar. Then he slipped his hand around Katrina’s waist and led her to their table.
Their dinner conversation provided Katrina with a glimpse into life in the upper echelons of Manhattan. Reid was a great storyteller and enjoyed sharing the shenanigans of his outrageously wealthy colleagues, especially the drunken antics of Ryder from Soho House. Exclusive parties, strip clubs, high-stakes poker games, private jets. Luxury and extravagance dripping from the walls, illicit activity tucked around every corner. Reid was clearly in his element revealing the dark underbelly of the investment banking world to a wide-eyed outsider.
“He really flew all of his friends to Barbados for his thirtieth birthday? I can’t imagine how much that must have cost.” Katrina was awed but also overwhelmed by the world he was describing. His life was so different from her own, like something she’d seen only in movies.
Reid shrugged. “It was a drop in the bucket for him. His wife probably spends more than that each year on jewelry.” He sipped his scotch and gave Katrina an inquisitive look. “What about you? Did you have any interesting coworkers at the advertising agency? Is it anything like Mad Men?”
She scooped a bite of panna cotta with her spoon and shook her head. “Our firm was nothing like that show, not even close. I wouldn’t last a week in an office like that.”
“So no three-martini lunches?”
She smiled. “Not in the accounting department, that’s for sure.”
“Damn. No chain smoking either?”
“Not allowed in the building.”
“No dirty deeds in the break room? Or getting busy with the hot secretary on the desk? Give me something, please.”
Katrina laughed and reached for her water glass. “Sorry, but no. Besides, no one has a secretary anymore.”
“You’re killing me.” He looked disappointed. “So what have you been up to since we last hung out? I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”
“Sightseeing, mostly. I’ll probably never get through my list, but I’m doing my best. I’ve also been doing a lot of aimless exploring . . . and painting.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Painting?”
She took a sip of wine and nodded. “I used to paint when I was younger, but then for some reason I just . . . stopped. And now I guess I’ve started again.” She smiled as she realized how good it felt to say the words out loud. When it came down to it, it really was that simple. She’d stopped, and now she’d started again.
“What do you paint?”
“Nothing too complicated, and not what I would have expected, given that I’m in New York City. I’ve found myself drawn to subjects a little . . . off the beaten path, you could say.”
“I like to think I’m a little off your beaten path.”
She blushed and looked down. “Maybe.”
“I love what you’re doing with your life right now. I wish I had that freedom.”
She kept her eyes on the table. The way he was talking to her, the way he seemed so interested in her, it made her feel as if . . . as if he really cared about her.
Just as she’d felt
that night at Soho House.
She closed her eyes for a moment.
It was almost as if . . . as if he weren’t married.
Is this really happening?
“You okay there, Snow White?”
She opened her eyes. He was giving her a strange look.
“I’m fine, thanks. I think I’m just a little tired.”
“There’s no time to be tired in New York, and especially not on a Saturday night. It’s still early.”
Katrina swallowed, suddenly nervous about what might happen later. She looked around the room and decided to change the subject. “This restaurant is gorgeous. Do you come here a lot?”
Reid shrugged. “Often enough. We rarely go anywhere but downtown for dinner, but if we have to come this way, Marea is the place to be.”
She flinched at his use of we. All day she’d been wondering why he wasn’t wearing his wedding ring. He’d just cracked the door with that comment, so now seemed like as good a time as any to push it open.
Emboldened by the wine, she decided to be direct.
“Where’s your wife today?”
“She’s visiting her sister in Boston.”
“When is she coming back?”
Reid hesitated for a moment, then intensified his gaze as he replied, “I’m not sure yet.”
Katrina felt her stomach flip.
“Oh,” she whispered.
They’re really splitting up.
This is really happening.
Just then the waiter approached to clear their dessert plates. Katrina was grateful for the interruption.
She needed time to think. She excused herself to visit the ladies’ room.
As she washed her hands, she had a silent conversation with her reflection in the mirror.
What happens now?
Do I let him kiss me this time?
Or should I just go home?
Maybe I should relax and see how it plays out.
She was thrilled and terrified at the same time. Though she was wildly hopeful about what lay ahead, she wanted to avoid being tormented by any more guilt until there was greater clarity regarding his marital status. So, tempted though she was to succumb to the attraction, she knew the smart thing to do was to say good-night at the end of the evening.
Reid was signing the bill when she returned.
“Hey there. Ready to go?” He finished the last of his drink and grinned at her.
“Sounds good.”
As they walked outside, Katrina was surprised to see that the weather had turned pleasant. Maybe she would rally to meet up with Shana and company at the bar after all. Not that she needed any more to drink, but it would be nice to see her friends. It would also be good for her to spend the rest of such a pretty evening somewhere other than her apartment—and with someone other than Reid.
At least for now.
“How about a nightcap?” Reid said.
She felt her body tense.
“Hello? Anyone there?” he said.
She blinked. “I’m sorry. I got lost in my head for a minute.”
“So what do you think? Nightcap sound good?”
She knew she should leave.
“I’m supposed to meet my friends in the East Village. I’m sorry.”
“You sure? We could grab a quick drink right around the corner. One of the many things I love about this city is that you can’t toss a quarter without hitting a bar.” He pointed toward Columbus Circle.
Katrina’s eyes followed. The streets were bustling and bright, everyone out and about, living it up on a beautiful Saturday night.
She was having fun too, a lot of fun.
“Come on,” Reid said. “Just one drink?”
She held her breath for a moment. Shana’s words from class rang in her ears.
Don’t judge a person or a situation on its face, because you just might be wrong. And if you’re wrong, you might be missing out on something amazing.
She smiled. “Okay . . . sure. One drink would be nice.”
After another half glass of wine, Katrina was officially tipsy. And Reid was becoming more and more friendly.
“I don’t believe it,” he said.
“It’s true.”
He lifted his drink and shook his head. “How could someone so pretty not have a boyfriend?”
She pointed to his drink. “I think that’s the scotch talking.”
“Come on now, give yourself some credit. You’re a very attractive woman.”
She felt her neck get hot at the compliment, then glanced around the bar to avoid looking him in the eye. They were at an Irish pub called D. J. Reynolds on Fifty-Seventh, and the crowd ranged wildly in age. She spotted at least a dozen patrons who looked to be in their seventies, plus another handful who looked barely old enough to drink. The fashion statements ran the gamut from tweed jackets and ascots to flat-rimmed baseball hats and baggy jeans.
It was unlike any bar she’d seen at home.
It was . . . perfect.
“Everyone fits in here, don’t they?” she said, still taking in the surroundings.
“You mean New York?”
She nodded. “It seems like no matter how old you are, or how you’re dressed, or what you do, you can pop into any bar—whether it’s a dive reeking of stale beer and popcorn or a swanky lounge serving top-shelf liquor—and no one cares. In Silicon Valley, it’s just not like that.”
“How so?”
“I mean everyone is so similar there, at least the people I seem to come across. Similar in dress, similar in age, similar in education. There are some cool bars near my apartment, but they’re mostly filled with clusters of techy guys in polo shirts with their company logos, chattering about a new video game or their fantasy football team.”
Reid laughed. “Remind me never to move to Mountain View.”
She looked around the room. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a bar I could imagine my parents strolling into for a drink.”
“Speaking of a drink, can I get you another?”
She covered her glass with her hand. “I’m good, thanks. Actually, I think it’s about time I headed out.”
“You sure?” He looked disappointed.
“Yes, but thanks so much for everything. The show, dinner, all of it has been so much fun. I feel like today has been the quintessential New York experience.”
“You’re off to meet your friends now?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think I’m going to make it. It’s been a long day, and I’m pretty beat, sad as that sounds.”
“You’re hardly sad, fairest one. Let’s blow this Popsicle stand.” He stood up and gestured for the bill.
As Katrina reached down to pick up her purse, she felt a little dizzy. She wished she hadn’t had that third glass of wine.
As they walked outside, Reid stepped into the street to hail a cab. “I’ll drop you off.”
She touched her cheek and realized it felt a little numb. While her grasp of Manhattan geography was still rudimentary, she knew the East Village was not on the way to Tribeca. But before she could say anything, a cab had pulled over. Reid opened the door, and she climbed in and turned to say good-bye to him, but he was already getting in after her.
“Oh, thanks so much, but I’m okay getting home on my own, really.”
“Nonsense. This way I can pay your fare. Now move over.”
Not wanting to be rude, she slid across the seat, and he sat down next to her.
“Twenty-Second and Third?” he asked her.
“Yes.” She closed her eyes to think for a moment, then opened them and recited the exact address of her building.
Reid looked ahead to the front seat. “Did you get that?”
The driver nodded and pulled into traffic. Katrina
leaned back against the seat and exhaled. “I’m sleepy.”
“New York will do that to you.”
They rode in silence for a few minutes, winding their way through the crowded streets of Midtown. Then Reid spoke. “What’s been your favorite part of your time here so far?”
“That’s a good question, especially given the sightseeing rampage I went on last week. But if you put a gun to my head, I’d have to say it was . . . seeing The Book of Mormon.” With you, she thought silently. And it was true. Yes, it was complicated, but it was so nice being with a man who made her feel so . . . special.
He touched her cheek. “I could never put a gun to your head. I much prefer it intact.”
As they headed south away from Midtown, the skyscrapers gave way to apartment buildings, pubs, and restaurants. Every other car on the road seemed to be a yellow cab, and nearly every one of them was full. Katrina wondered where everyone was going, and with whom. It was a sea of strangers all sharing the same city streets before disappearing into their separate lives.
Eventually the driver turned onto Katrina’s street and began to slow down. When he stopped in front of her building, she reached for her purse and turned to Reid.
“Thanks again for everything. I had a really nice time.”
He had his hand on her cheek again. “You sure you want to go home? It’s still early.”
“I’m sure.”
“We could go meet your friends for that drink.”
“Thanks, but I’m beat.”
He shrugged. “If you say so. I’ll walk you in.”
She shook her head. “Oh, you don’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I do.”
Before she could say anything more, he was paying the driver and opening the door. He stepped out and held a hand for her to follow.
“Come on, I insist. I’ll catch another cab in a few minutes.”
She took his hand and followed him out, and together they walked up the steps of the building. She reached into her purse for her keys, then held them up and smiled. “I guess this is good-bye then.”
Katwalk Page 17
