Page 25 of Man of His Dreams

She flashed a broad smile. “That’s all up to you, boy.”

He lingered over breakfast. Partly because the café he’d chosen on Royal Street was nice, with friendly waitstaff and interesting décor. But partly he dawdled because he was nervous about what he had to do next. It could end up in disaster. One thing he was sure about, however, was that attempting it was not a mistake. In this case, backing away fearfully was the bad decision, even if it would be the easiest thing to do.

It was past ten-thirty by the time he paid, girded his mental loins, and headed northeast.

His trek was only a few blocks long, and he’d made it many times before. This morning he noticed how comfortable the walk felt. The scenery was so familiar that it was starting to feel like home.

When he entered the Bergeron-Catanzaro House, a familiar young woman greeted him, and Flip remembered her name: Kat. She clearly recognized him as well. “Back for another tour?” she asked sunnily. “The next one is in about fifteen minutes.”

“Actually, I came to see Tony Bergeron. Is he available?”

She displayed neither surprise nor disapproval. “Hang on. I’ll text him. Can I tell him your name?”

“Flip.”

That did cause her to blink, but he was used to that, and she recovered quickly. She poked at her phone for a moment and then gave him a professional smile. “It may take him a while. He gets buried in projects sometimes and has a hard time detaching. Feel free to look around while you wait. There’s a new quilt exhibit in the dining room. It’s really cool.”

Flip dithered about whether to go look. He believed her that it was a good exhibit, but he was too nervous right now to get anything out of it. Maybe it would be better if?—

Tony darted through a doorway at the far end of the hallway and dashed toward him. “Flip!” He tried to slow when he realized that Kat was watching, but it was too late. Her eyebrows shot up, and he blushed but didn’t turn away. “Are you here to yell at me about Aunt Amelie?”

“The opposite, actually. Um….” Flip glanced at Kat, unsure how much he should say with an audience.

Tony took the hint. “Sorry, Kat. I’m taking a break.” He winked at her, grabbed Flip’s hand, and towed him down the hall and out onto the back porch overlooking the courtyard. There was nobody else in sight.

But then Flip, the author, found himself at a loss for words. He had no clue where to begin. So it was Tony who spoke first. “You came back.”

Well, hell. Might as well plunge right in. “I missed you.”

“Yeah?” Tony’s face lit up, reminding Flip of a Renaissance painting.

“I kept wanting to see you, but I was struggling with some things. I’m… it’s kind of a weird situation.”

Tony stepped closer and spoke quietly. “What brought you here?”

“If I were a religious man, I‘d call it a revelation.”

“A message from God?”

Flip snorted. “I’m not sure he and I are on speaking terms. This was more like the lifting of a veil. I saw with clarity the way things are and what path I should follow. And, uh, that path includes you.” He added hastily, “If you want it to.”

Tony, chewing on his lower lip, gave Flip such a long look that Flip started to squirm. “I think I do,” Tony finally said, making Flip sag with relief. “I mean, Aunt Amelie’s machinations aside, I like you. I like spending time with you.”

Nobody had ever said that to Flip before. Maybe it had been implied in some people’s actions, yet in the back of his head, Flip had always suspected that his companions were settling, that he was simply good enough until someone better came along. Now he had to blink back tears. “I have a plan. Do you want to hear about it?”

“You’ve cranked up my curiosity all the way, that’s for sure. But, shit, I have a meeting in an hour with a potential donor, and then I need to have a discussion with an architect about some work in the former slave quarters.” Tony sighed. “Waiting is going to kill me, but can it wait? Until after five?”

“Of course.” Waiting might kill Flip too, but this wasn’t truly an emergency, and besides, it might be better to do this in the evening. Nights were ghostlier than daytimes in New Orleans. And he’d do well to remember that not everyone could be as flexible with their time as he could; Tony had a more traditional work schedule that Flip needed to respect.

Tony gently brushed a thumb over Flip’s cheek, the movement less hesitant than Flip would have expected. “Can I say something? You’re a good-looking man, but today you’re especially handsome. You look like someone who’s had a heavy burden lifted.”

Flip, who knew he was mediocre at best, smiled. “That’s it exactly. I let my burdens go. It feels great.”

“I’ll look forward to hearing the details.”

Left with an entire day to fill, Flip wandered. He visited the Jazz Museum, which didn’t have anything about Scratch but did help him better understand the history of the genre. He bought a couple of CDs in the gift shop even though he didn’t have a player. He’d deal with that another time. Then he went to a history museum on Royal Street, bought and ate a praline—because why not—and sat for a time on the ghost’s bench in Jackson Square. The ghost wasn’t there, but the people-watching was good.

A few minutes before five found him pacing anxiously in front of the Bergeron-Catanzaro House. It had occurred to him that Tony might have had second thoughts about… everything, so Flip was relieved when Tony burst out the front door and loped toward him. He was so damned adorable in his button-up shirt and pale green sweater-vest that Flip wanted to gobble him right up. He had to remind himself that Tony was not on the menu.