Page 2 of Designing Love
“Cold winters,” I interrupt, grimacing.
“Fine, metaphorically speaking,” she huffs playfully. “So, what now?”
“Honestly? I have no idea. I want a break. I was between clients anyways, so I thought I’d surprise you and reconnect with myself...”
She smiles, wrinkles deepening around her eyes. “I’m glad you picked me and this place to reconnect with yourself.”
The gentle clink of mismatched china fills the quiet lull between Sage and me as we sip our tea in comfortable silence. Her gallery is a delightful chaos — half art studio, half eclectic tea shop — with canvases stacked precariously and brushes scattered like forgotten toys. The soothing aroma of lavender and sage floats gently in the air, blending with hints of turpentine and something suspiciously like cinnamon.
I run my thumb along the delicate rim of my cup, tracing tiny painted daisies that seem to dance beneath my touch. “You know, Sage,” I begin carefully, eyeing her over the edge of the teacup, “I didn’t exactly plan this out. Leaving Daniel, coming straight here… It’s a bit impulsive, even for me.”
She smiles knowingly, her fingers absently tapping rhythmically against the ceramic cup. “Soph, life’s best decisions are rarely planned. Especially the big ones. They’re usually spontaneous — like ordering dessert first or dyeing your hair neon pink.”
I chuckle softly, shaking my head. “Neon pink hair? Really?”
“Just a suggestion,” she shrugs, her silver curls bouncing playfully. “But speaking of unplanned spontaneity, what’s your next move?”
“Well,” I pause, biting my lower lip thoughtfully, “I was actually hoping I could crash at your beach house for a while. Just until I figure things out.”
Sage’s face lights up instantly, as though this is precisely the plan she’d hoped I’d propose. “Of course! I’ve been craving company… this is perfect.”
I laugh more openly this time, feeling warmth bloom comfortably in my chest. It’s been too long since I laughed like this — freely, easily, without trying. “Thanks, Sage. Seriously. You have no idea how much this means.”
“Oh, I think I do,” she says, winking conspiratorially. “But first, we need the key.”
Her expression shifts instantly from serene to dramatically frantic. “Now, where did I put that blasted thing?” she mutters, patting herself down, skirts fluttering like the colorful sails of a ship caught in a storm. Bracelets jingle musically as she checks pockets and hidden folds, increasingly agitated.
I watch in fascination as she moves around the gallery, opening and shutting drawers noisily, her skirts swirling around her feet. “Sage, maybe check near the teacups?” I suggest helpfully, grinning into my tea.
She pauses, hands on her hips. “Very funny, Soph. Although...” she squints suspiciously at the tea set as though the cups might conspire against her.
“Oh, come on,” I tease, barely stifling a laugh. “You know you’re secretly thinking I might be right.”
“Hardly,” she mutters, moving determinedly toward her painting station. Her hands dive into an apron pocket splattered with an explosion of teal, crimson, and gold, and she shouts triumphantly. “Aha! Found it!”
She brandishes the key victoriously, holding it aloft like a hard-earned trophy. “Your beach house key, my dear niece,” she announces, striding back over to me with regal flair. “The perfect place for self-reflection, soul-searching, and any other existential activity you might have planned.”
I take the key gratefully. Its metal is cool and solid in my palm, grounding me somehow. “Thank you, Sage. Truly.”
“Anytime, sweetheart,” she says, gently squeezing my hand. “Just don’t lock yourself out. I’m terrible at finding things twice.”
“Clearly,” I say, smiling fondly.
Sage pats my hand affectionately before pulling back, eyes twinkling mischievously. “Now, go settle in. Let the lake soothe your weary soul and all that poetic nonsense.”
I rise, grabbing my bag and hesitating briefly at the door. “Wait — do you have coffee at the beach house?”
Sage’s eyes widened, her hand fluttering to her chest as though scandalized. “Coffee? Sophia, caffeine is — “
“An anxiety amplifier, yes, I know,” I sigh, rolling my eyes but unable to suppress a smile.
She grins wickedly, clearly pleased with herself. “Lucas’ coffee shop – Beans & Brew, two doors down. Tell him I sent you. He makes an incredible latte when the machine isn’t broken.”
“Already outsourcing my caffeine needs,” I mutter with mock indignation, smiling as I shake my head. “Great start.”
Sage laughs, waving cheerfully as I step back into the sunshine. “Welcome home, sweetheart.”
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