Page 44 of When Love Is Lost and Found

"I'd like that," I say, smiling.

"Okay," says Mrs. Linder. "We can all meet for dinner in the hotel restaurant at, say, seven?"

"That'll work," Jon says. "It gives us enough time to make it there and back."

"Are you ready?" Mrs. Linder asks Noah.

"Yes!" he exclaims, jumping off the bed.

"Let's go," she says, taking Noah by the hand and walking to the door. Before the door shuts, we hear Noah ask, "Can I jump on your bed, Mommy?"

Jon laughs out loud.

"He reminds me so much of me when I was his age," Jon says. "I loved jumping on my bed, too."

"I bet you were a mischievous little kid," I say.

"I was an only child. I had to find creative ways to entertain myself."

"Did you ever break a bone?" I ask.

"I broke my arm when I was twelve. I jumped over a couch and landed wrong."

"Ouch!" I exclaim.

"I got this scar from jumping on the bed," he says, touching the scar on the corner of his eyebrow. "I fell off my bed, and my face made contact with a chipped corner of my nightstand."

"I noticed that small scar the day we met," I say, stepping toward him to get a better look. "It adds to your rugged good looks."

"You think I'm good-looking?" he asks.

"You know you are."

He laughs and picks up his bag, placing it on the bed. I watch him open it and pull out a camera with a long strap attached.

"If we take the subway," he says, "we can be there in about half an hour."

"I don't remember riding the subway when I was here with Dad."

"The subway can get crowded, especially in the afternoons with people getting off work."

"Is it safe?" I ask.

"As long as you're with me, you're safe."

"I believe you."

The glance he shoots my way is so sweet I feel my stomach do a cartwheel.

"I bet I can get some really good pictures from the bridge," he says, looking back at the camera. "I'll get a few of the East River and the New York skyline, and maybe some of you, if you let me."

I smile and nod, and when he doesn't look away but lets his gaze linger on me, I get, what? Nervous, excited, flustered? What the heck is happening to me?

"Looks like you've done this before," I say, looking down at the camera and praying I don't blush.

"I've walked the bridge twice but never taken pictures.”

"Why not?" I ask.

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