Sara wrapped her arm around Bruce as they took to the sidewalk. Gently, she pressed herself against him as though she could give back some of his own warmth. It was the least she could do, and the closer they were, the more comfortable she felt; the way she could so easily nestle against him, and how perfectly he was able to drape his arm around her. It was a perfect fit. They were a perfect fit.<br/><br/>Inhaling, she felt her cheeks warm, and lips lilt in a shly as she took in his heady cologne that was neither too sweet, nor too spicy; a fresh breath of modern leather, musk, with a subtle undertone of fine amber spirits, and a whiff of cigar. It was a seductive blend of masculine fragrances warming her to the very core, and, perhaps, left her just a little bit unfocused.<br/><br/>Was there anything imperfect about this man? How would she ever measure up to such a high bar? Could she? Probably not. Grace taught her to be happy, and to accept who and what she was. She knew better than to allow anyone, even herself, make her feel less than she was and could ever be. And yet, now, her ambition and drive to left her knowing that somehow, she was seriously lacking.<br/><br/>Sara wasn’t good enough for Bruce.<br/><br/>By degrees her smile faded, and the woman in the man’s intoxicating coat focused on the sidewalk ahead of her. In these heels—boots though they were, or perhaps “boot-ettes”—would do her little good if she slipped on a strip of icy sidewalk. The boots were pretty though, sparkling with rhinestones and lined to keep her feet warm, but were terribly impractical for walking. Focusing on the ground helped prevent Sara from worrying about what Bruce thought of her. And the cold. And the fact that her date would likely soon become an icicle statue.<br/><br/>Sighing, she bit her lip and decided that she had been utterly stupid and foolish for leaving her coat behind tonight. It had been an enormous mistake, and one that she would suffer for later when he would decide that she was not worth the effort. She wouldn’t blame him for it.<br/><br/>They had not yet reached their destination, but Sara insisted they pause as she spied the open sign blaring through the window of a late night hipster cafe. The dimly lit space was nearly empty, and the counter was manned by a neatly dressed, but rather young man with dark shaggy hair beneath a classic newsboy cap, and faded black apron. Somehow the boy didn’t miss a beat on his social media app while taking their orders and brewing a fresh pot of coffee just for them.  Chivalry aside, Sara insisted on paying for both coffees--it was her best way to make it up to him. If nothing else, the drink would be enough to keep their hands warm.<br/><br/>Only a few minutes later they headed outside again, strolling toward Bruce’s top secret destination--somewhere that was special to him for reasons Sara that could not begin guess. The man himself was a mystery. A big mystery. She wanted desperately to skip to the end of the story, to unveil the secrets behind those narrowed stormy eyes and enigmatic tattoos. Sara knew better, though. He would share his story on his time. When he was ready. She hoped.<br/><br/>“I didn’t have time to find a coat to match the dress.” Sara hadn’t expect to blurt her confession so readily. She didn’t know why she was admitting it in the first place; as if guilty of stealing a cookie from the jar atop the fridge. It seemed such an inconsequential thing. And yet, Bruce was without a coat on this cold wintry midnight, and it was all her fault. “Thank you, and I’m sorry.”<br/><br/>And, of course, she had now ruined the moment. Again. Sighing she bit her lip as she watched the mischief in this man’s eyes fade. Their pace slowed, and then stopped just a few moments later as Sara found themselves looking across an old metal fence with a church courtyard just beyond. Around the corner, Sara knew they would find the entrance to one of many small, yet stunning cathedrals in and around Manhattan.<br/><br/>She didn’t get to see it though, as the man beside her took her arm and gently turned her to face him. “Listen to me,” his gaze was dark, but soft, and his tone firm, but gentle, “you could be wearing a paper bag, and you would still be the most beautiful woman in the room.” His hand, warmed from the coffee, cupped her cheek, as he gently coaxed her head back to gaze up at him.<br/><br/>Sara smiled, her cheek resting contently against his touch, “I’m-”<br/><br/>Chuckling, he quickly pressed a finger to her lips, quieting her in an instant. “And no more apologizing. You are perfect.”<br/><br/>Sara could only smile up at him then. Bruce Steele was the only man in the world. The only person in a city full of millions. He was possibly the only man on the planet. Oh goodness did she love him.<br/><br/>The wrought iron gate creaked and protested as they opened it together, and stepped into the humble garden courtyard. It was a place that would certainly look stunning in the spring and summer when it teamed with foliage and life. But now… oh boy it was more than beautiful now.