Page 15 of The Art of Loving You

I smiled at her enthusiasm. “Almost. We’re landing in New Jersey first, then driving into Manhattan.”

She barely registered my response, her gaze glued to the window as the city skyline came into view in the distance. Beside her, Ella leaned back, smiling, though a trace of wariness lingered in her eyes. The city had a way of bringing excitement and apprehension in equal measure.

“Are you sure Anthony’s okay with this?” she asked again.

I chuckled. “More than okay. He’s excited to help.” I let her curiosity simmer before adding, “And no, I’m still not telling you which Chagall he’s loaning you. It’s a surprise.”

She shook her head, but her lips twitched upward. “You love doing this, don’t you? Keeping me in suspense.”

“Guilty as charged.”

The plane eased to a stop at the gate, and Bess squealed, clapping her hands. “We’re here!”

Her joy was infectious. Ella laughed, brushing a strand of hair from Bess’s face. For a moment, the weight she carried seemed to lift. I watched them both, reminded of why I’d planned this trip in the first place. It wasn’t just about the art exhibit—it was about giving them something to hold onto, memories to shape their future.

Before the door opened, Bess pressed her forehead to the window. “I see cars moving! And buildings!”

Ella reached for her hand. “You’re going to love the city, sweetheart.”

“I already love it!” Bess said with a giggle.

The flight crew gave us the go-ahead to disembark. I stood, grabbing our bags, and as we stepped off the jet, the crisp morning air hit me. The sounds on the tarmac buzzed around us—engines running, voices giving instructions, the distant honk of traffic already moving beyond the airport. Bess darted ahead but stopped short of the airport staff guiding us toward the waiting car, her excitement contained only by the knowledge that she was in a new place with new rules.

I shot Ella a smile, hoping to ease her lingering tension. “Welcome to New Jersey,” I said. “Next stop: Manhattan.”

Ella pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders as we approached the SUV. “I just hope she remembers this trip for all the right reasons.”

I placed a reassuring hand on the small of her back. “She will. And so will you.”

Bess climbed into the car, her legs swinging excitedly as she buckled herself in the car seat. “Can we see the big buildings from the car?”

“Just wait,” I said, settling into the driver’s seat. “You’re about to get the best view yet.”

The drive toward the city was one of my favorite parts of the trip. As we merged onto the highway, the skyline rose ahead of us like something out of a dream. Bess pressed her hands against the glass, her little face filled with wonder.

“Look at that one!” she exclaimed, pointing wildly. “It’s so tall!”

Ella chuckled. “That’s the Empire State Building, sweetheart. It doesn’t touch the clouds, but it comes close.”

I glanced at Ella as she spoke, catching the flicker of nostalgia in her expression. I knew she had mixed feelings about this city, but something told me that this trip would rewrite those memories into something better.

As the Lincoln Tunnel swallowed us into its depths, Bess let out a gasp. “Are we underwater?”

I laughed. “Kind of. The tunnel runs under the Hudson River.”

“This is the best trip ever,” she declared, leaning back in her seat as the lights of the tunnel streaked past.

Ella turned her gaze to me, her eyes searching. I reached for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s only just beginning.”

We emerged on the other side, and suddenly, Manhattan stretched before us in all its chaotic, vibrant glory. Bess let out a squeal as yellow taxis zipped by, people hurried across crosswalks, and the sheer scale of the buildings dwarfed everything else.

Ella exhaled slowly. “Well, here we are.”

I smiled, watching the way the city reflected in her eyes. “Yeah. Here we are.”

When we finally arrived at the Met, the grand façade seemed to loom over us, a monument to art and history. Bess clutched Ella’s hand as we made our way through the bustling entrance, her eyes darting to every sculpture and painting in sight.

Inside Anthony’s office, Ella paused, looked around, and smiled wistfully. “The last time I was here, I met up with you and the others at that art auction,” she said, her voice tinged with nostalgia. It feels like another lifetime ago.”

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