Even though he’d been to the Russian Tea Room—in all its past incarnations—more times than he could count, here with Casey everything looked suddenly different: the heavy red velvet drapes that fell to the floor, the brass buttons on the waiter’s black coat shining in the deep crimson light of the room, even the crystal-laden chandeliers hanging from the ceiling sparkled as if he was seeing them for the first time. Ever since he started dating Casey, he seemed to feel like this all the time, whether it was showing her his favorite Pollack at the Met, or introducing her to the simple pleasure of a hot corned beef on rye in the dingy yet supremely comforting dining room of Katz’s Deli—the very fact of sharing these things with someone who got excited about them, too, was a whole new experience. One he could get addicted to if he wasn’t careful. So far, at least, there was nothing about this girl that he didn’t like.Not that she was perfect—in fact, that was kind of the point.
