She laughed. “Sort of. Thank you for treating me to dinner. This had to have cost you a fortune.”

“Nothing but a generous tip. I’ve done the same for him in Paris.” It was nice to be able to show off a little. Having this kind of night out on the town was a nice perk.

Lori lifted her phone. “The driver is out front when you’re ready.”

He stood and pulled out her chair. “After you.”

They got in the car.

Andrew asked the driver, “Do you think we could stop in one of these little souvenir shops and pick up a couple of postcards?”

The driver glanced toward Lori.

He’d forgotten about his short leash for a moment there. “Guess that’s your call, huh?”

“Sure. I’ll run in for you unless you want to pick them out yourself.”

“No. Something touristy, I guess, and stamps, please.”

The driver pulled over to the curb, and Lori jumped out of the car.

Andrew pushed the door open for her as she came back out of the shop. “Thanks, what do I owe you?”

“This is on me,” she said. “The least I could do after that dinner.”

“Well, thank you.”

About fifteen minutes later, the limo pulled into the unloading zone underneath the hotel. Lori swiped her key in the elevator to access their floor.

“I’ll make sure you’re up on time,” she said. “How much time do you need to get ready?”

“I’d like to have about forty-five minutes to shower and drink some coffee before I have to talk to anyone. Including you.”

“Me too. I’ll knock on your door. Let me know if you need a follow-up knock.”

“Sounds good. Thanks for celebrating with me.”

She waved her key in front of her door. “Now get some sleep, or I’ll be in trouble.”

“Yes, ma’am. Wouldn’t want that to happen.” He closed the door behind him and took out the postcards from the small paper sack. It had seemed like such a good idea when he’d asked her to stop. Now, it seemed kind of cheesy. She’d gotten him an I New York pen and magnet too. That was sweet.

He laid the postcards on the nightstand and took a shower to try to relax so he might get some sleep. The dinner had been amazing. He hadn’t had a meal that good that he hadn’t had a hand in cooking in a very long time.

When he got out of the shower, he towel-dried his hair and put on a pair of sweatpants, then flipped on the television to the permitted on-demand channel and stretched out on the bed. He picked out the postcard with the New York skyline at night, then turned it over and began to write.

Dear Kelly,

Seeing you tonight was wonderful.