Love This Life: Love's Great Adventure Series Book 2: Love's Great Adventure Series Book 2

Sebastian carefully pushed the bedroom door open with his foot while he precariously balanced the wooden tray in his hands. He walked to the bed and smiled. Tess was curled up in a ball, her arm draped over his pillow, sound asleep. He still couldn’t believe they were living together, sharing a home, a life. He had never felt such contentment or joy.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Sebastian said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

Tess slowly opened her eyes and spied the breakfast feast that sat on the tray. “Are those Alice’s pancakes?” she asked, her spirits lifted even though Sebastian had woken her from a deep sleep. She hated when he did that.

“Yes. Are you hungry?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied, sitting up in bed. “You’re going to make me gain ten pounds if you keep cooking like this.”

The tray was laid out with a stack of fluffy pancakes on a china plate, flanked by a linen napkin and sterling silver place setting. A single stemmed rose was placed at the top of the tray and there were two glasses of orange juice and coffee.

Sebastian leaned in and kissed her. “I haven’t brushed my teeth yet,” she protested.

“I don’t mind. The first thing I used to do in the morning was smoke a cigarette and drink a cup of coffee.”

Tess wrinkled her nose at the thought. “Thank goodness I cured you of that habit.”

Sebastian chuckled, sitting on the bed with her. He cut the pancakes and speared a few pieces with the fork and then fed them to Tess.

She actually moaned as she chewed the pancakes, they were so good. “How did you get Alice to give up the recipe?”

“I didn’t. She made the batch for me this morning. I did cook them, though.”

“I don’t think I’d ever give up the secret recipe if I were her.”

“Oh, it’s not that she won’t give up the recipe—the problem is it’s not written down,” Sebastian explained.

“What?”

“I’ve watched her makes these things time and time again. She doesn’t measure anything. She just throws a dash of this and pinch of that and suddenly, she has pancake batter. Alice says she knows they are ready by the smell.”

“Thank you for this.” Tess motioned at the breakfast tray. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He took a sip of his coffee and unfolded the Sunday edition of
The New York Times.
Out of habit, he took the crossword section and handed it to Tess. The first section Sebastian went for was Arts and Leisure.

“I think you’ve brought me breakfast in bed every Sunday since we moved in. You spoil me.”

“And I intend to continue to do so to for rest of our lives.”

“Even when we have kids and a dog and a cat…?”

“Who said anything about a cat?” Sebastian playfully teased.

“We’ll need a bigger bed,” Tess mused. She polished off the remaining pancakes and grabbed a pen. Instead of starting the crossword puzzle, she reached for the want ads. One by one, Tess perused the advertisements and began to circle ones she thought might be interesting.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for a job.”

“You don’t need a job,” Sebastian reiterated. “I promised to take care of you.”

“I know, Sebastian, but I need to make some money. I need to start contributing to the house. We have bills to pay, groceries to buy.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“We’ve lived here a month already and I keep putting it off. First because we had all the unpacking. Then I relaxed like you asked. Now, I need a job. I need the satisfaction of having my own income. I won’t be a kept woman,” Tess warned.

“You are the most incredible woman I’ve ever known. Any girl would jump at the chance to be taken care of.”

“And that’s why you fell in love with me. I’m not like any other woman you’ve ever encountered.” Tess put down the paper and cuddled into his chest. “Sebastian, this will make me happy and give me a sense of purpose. It will just be a part-time job. Maybe I could work at a bookstore. You never know what kind of contacts I could make there.”

Sebastian smiled. “There’s my little go-getter. Always looking for the angle to work it to your best advantage.”

“Damn right,” she smiled back.

“You win! Just promise if the job gets to be too much when classes start, you’ll give it up. I know how important NYU is to you. I don’t want you stressing over money.”

“Deal.”

Sebastian and Tess walked down Broadway, past Union Square, until they came upon the Strand Bookstore. He opened the door and Tess entered first. A middle-aged woman wearing wire rimmed glassed greeted them. “Welcome to the Strand.”

Tess approached the bookseller and introduced herself. “Hello, I’m Tess Hamilton. I have an interview with the manager.”

“Nice to meet you, Tess. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you back to the office.”

Sebastian kissed her cheek. “I’ll be in the art section. Good luck, darling.”

As Tess followed the bookseller through the long aisles overflowing with wonderful books, the woman commented, “Charming young man you have there.”

Tess chuckled. “Oh, that he is.”

In the back corner of the store, there was a tiny office. A glass window gave its occupant a look out onto the sales floor. A woman dressed in a simple, white woven shirt and black pants stood over the desk, paging through a calendar.

The bookseller knocked on the door. She opened it and announced, “Emily, this is Tess Hamilton. She’s here for her interview.”

Emily walked toward Tess, her hand extended in a greeting. “Nice to meet you. Please have a seat.”

Sebastian made himself comfortable in an old, upholstered chair in the corner of the art section. He had amassed a pile of hardcover books after perusing the shelves, and placed them on the floor at his feet. He was reading a book on Andy Warhol when Tess found him twenty minutes later. She smiled, remembering the first time they’d met and he’d tried to seduce her instead of being tutored. He was always intelligent; he just never flaunted it. It was one of the things she loved about him.

“Warhol?” she whispered as she sat down on the arm of the chair.

He looked up at Tess. “When in Rome—” Sebastian closed the book. “Well, shall we celebrate?”

“How do you know I got the job?”

“You’re my brilliant fiancée. Of course you got the job. Who wouldn't fall in love with you?”

Tess stood up, her excitement uncontrollable. “I got the job!”

Sebastian gave her hug. “Congratulations, now you can help me put these books back.”

Tess playfully punched him in the bicep and grabbed a few books from the pile.

They left the bookstore holding hands. Enjoying the warm July weather as they walked down Broadway, Tess commented, “You know I’d be happy with McDonald's.”

“Yes, darling, and you know I’m not taking you to McDonald's to celebrate.”

Tess rolled her eyes. There was no point arguing with him over eating establishments. Sebastian took so much pleasure from the simple act of eating, Tess couldn’t deny him. “So what did you have in mind?”

“There’s a new Italian restaurant that was highly rated in the Zagat Guide. I was reading about it in
The New York Times
.” Tess eyed him with suspicion. “It’s in the Village, so it’s affordable. The decor is casual,” he quickly added to dispel her fears.

“I’m so full, I feel like my seams are going to burst,” Tess admitted as they left the restaurant.

“Then I think we should walk off our meal,” Sebastian said, taking her hand. “Come with me. There are a few art galleries I want to check out in Chelsea.”

They ended up on the corner of Nineteenth and Eighth, where the Fiona Ashford Gallery was located. Once they were inside, Tess walked off to the right while Sebastian veered to the left.

Sebastian stood in front of a painting by Jean-Michel Basquiat, marveling at the bright, intense colors. A woman approached him, saying, “It’s a stunning piece.”

Sebastian agreed. “I love the suggestive dichotomy of wealth verses poverty.”

The woman nodded her head, impressed with his commentary. “I’m Fiona Ashford.”

He shook her hand. “Sebastian Irons.”

“Are you on holiday, Mr. Irons?” she asked, assuming so due to his accent.

“No, I live here. I’m attending NYU.”

“Are you an art major?”

“Undeclared at the moment,” Sebastian admitted. “But I’ve always had a passion for art. When I lived in London I frequently visited the Tate and the Charles Saatchi Gallery. Mr. Saatchi is an amazing person to know if you want to keep up on the latest artists.”

“You’re friends with Charles Saatchi?”

“He’s a family friend. It was always nice to have him around parties so I had someone to talk to.”

“So tell me, who does Mr. Saatchi have his eye on these days?”

“Damien Hirst, who’s currently attending Goldsmiths College.”

“I have a trip to London coming up next month. I’ll be sure to investigate Mr. Hirst. Do you like graffiti art as a whole?” Fiona asked, nodding toward the Basquiat.

“I believe art comes in many forms. It would be naïve to think that art only falls into one category. Freedom of expression is what makes an artist. Take Warhol, for instance. He was a commercial artist drawing shoes for Bergdorf Goodman. When he started producing pop art, the critiques laughed and didn’t take him seriously. Warhol is brilliant. He realized art can be a business. It can be enjoyed by the masses.”

“Unfortunately, the masses can’t always afford the price of art,” Fiona reminded Sebastian.

“True, but there are always art galleries and museums. Even the poorest of the poor can find beauty in art. It shouldn't be reserved only for the bourgeoisie.”

“How would you like to come work with me? I could use someone like you with your unique insight.”

Sebastian was taken aback by the suggestion. He hadn’t walked into the gallery to find a job, but he had enjoyed his conversation with Ms. Ashford and it was a joy to speak freely regarding his thoughts on art to someone who understood and appreciated it. “Would you be willing to work with my class schedule?”

“Of course. Why don’t you stop by tomorrow around eleven and we’ll discuss a schedule and salary?”

“Thank you, Ms. Ashford. I look forward to it.”

Fiona walked away and Tess rejoined Sebastian. “What was that all about?” she whispered.

“I’ve just been offered a job here at the gallery,” he said with disbelief.

“That’s amazing! For a moment I thought you were going to tell me you just bought that painting.”

“Do you like the painting?” Sebastian inquired.

“No, sorry, it doesn’t appeal to me.”

“Well, why don’t we walk around the gallery and you can show me what does appeal to you?” Sebastian took her hand and together they viewed the paintings.

Sebastian and Tess escaped the subway and climbed the steps at the Eighth Street Station. Tess used her hand to shade her eyes from the sun. “Ugh, I can’t believe this is the first day of college and it’s eighty degrees. So much for cool, calm, and collected.”

Sebastian glanced at her. She was wearing a sleeveless white cotton shirt and a black and white floral skirt. Her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail. “You look fantastic. You have nothing to worry about.”

“I’m sweltering.”

“I’m sure it will be cooler inside the building,” Sebastian reasoned.

“I hope so.” She let out a hot breath. “You know where you’re going?”

“Got it,” he replied, patting his pants pocket containing his schedule. “Meet you for lunch in the cafeteria at twelve thirty?”

“Yes,” Tess agreed, leaning in and kissing him on the lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he replied.

Tess walked into her first class, which was Government. She took a seat in the front row, eager to hear her professor's lecture. Everyone else who entered the room headed for the back of the lecture hall, leaving Tess all alone. She tapped her pen on the desk with nervous energy.