The sun had almost reached the top of the Manhattan skyrise buildings. We sat in the middle of the room full of canvases and talked as the room warmed with its light.
We ate from the silver tray he’d brought. There was a full tea set with cream and sugar. A heap of pancakes was topped with strawberries and handwhipped cream, and another plate was laden high with bacon and eggs.
I reached for the pancakes and he stopped my hand with a touch of his wrist.
“Let me feed you,” he said.
I was uncertain, but I bit my lip. He was trying to do something for me, I realized. Something nice. Something… innocent.
“Strawberry, please,” I said.
He picked up a strawberry from the side of the dish and dragged it through the whipped cream. He lifted it to my lips.
It was the sweetest strawberry I’d e
