It’s a gorgeous space—like a loft in the sky. It’s old New York in style with brick walls, warm wood cabinetry in the small kitchen, and matching floors that look to have seen some history. The leather couch looks cozy with a blanket draped over one side and a fireplace facing it. Other than barstools parked at the island, there’s a brass and glass dining table that seats six. It’s right out of Architectural Digest, and that’s not even mentioning the terrace. “It’s sweet indeed, but the phrase is home sweet home.”

He leads me toward the large terrace. “A place could never be my home.”

I set my clutch down on the island, standing in the middle of the space. That’s when I spy a door leading to a bedroom. “Why not?”

Reaching over his shoulder to rub the back of his neck, he locks his eyes on mine. There’s a shared pause between us, causing my breath to slow. Then, as if he’s freed from a spell, he signals outside. “I have a surprise for you.”

“Really?” I ask with a surge of giddiness rolling up my spine.

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you. Come on. Let me show you.” He moves to a button on the far brick wall of the space. With the push of a button, the glass that covers most of the length slides on a track, bringing the outside in and us outside. He walks onto the terrace and then disappears around the corner. I follow him, not sure what to expect, which seems to be a running theme with him.

Around the corner is a table draped in white linens, votive candle holders, napkins, and silverware. Off to the side, a brass cart with wine and a chilling bottle of champagne stands next to a decanter of what I assume to be whiskey by the amber color. The lower shelf houses dishes and glasses of varying sizes. I can assume they were protected from the wind until we arrived. There’s only a gentle breeze tonight, and the weather is perfect. It’s a great reminder of how perfect Harbor always was as well.

“This is magical. Better than any restaurant, and we get to share it alone instead of with half of New York.”

He’s grinning like he just won a hometown game, and says, “I’m glad you like it. I hoped you would.” He walks to the cart. “Can I make you a drink?”

“I’ll have what you’re having.”

He pulls two lowball glasses and drops ice from a bucket inside while I wander the expansive terrace. Beyond being in Tribeca, this place alone probably costs a fortune. I stand at the far edge near an arranged seating area and look across the city as far as I can see. “Incredible.”

“I could say the same.”

I turn to find him standing with two drinks in his hands, and his eyes already set on me. I swallow hard, feeling his gaze reach the deep recesses of my body and weaken my knees like he used to.