Page 2 of Stone
He brushed his fingers across my cheek, allowing his thumb to dance over the seam of my mouth before pressing our foreheads together. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Anything you want?”
His chuckle was full of angst and he gently pushed me into the passenger seat. I pulled my legs free, doing everything I could not to become emotional.
Our last night together.
How was that even possible?
Blinking, I tried to ignore the questions that continued to defy my sense of joy in just being together. Seconds ticked away, two full minutes passing in silence.
“I received a letter from the Royal College of Art in London.”
His face registered shock, but his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “And?”
He knew more than anyone how important my art was to me. I’d been drawing since I could remember, turning to using oil paints when I was nine or ten. My parents had thought it an excellent hobby since I was so shy. Now my father hated that I wanted to build a career on my art.
Eventually, I wanted to teach what I’d learned, showing how joyful being lost in sketching or painting could be.
I shook my head, feeling defeated. “I couldn’t read it.”
“Are you kidding me? Dani. All you’ve talked about since I met you was painting, teaching others about art and art history, and having dozens of gallery showings.”
“You remember that.”
“Of course I do. I don’t think I’d forget anything about you. Ever.”
Shrugging, I dug into my purse, pulling the letter into my hand. As I stared at the typed address, my lack of self-confidence reared its ugly head. “What if they don’t accept me?”
“They’d be crazy not to. You’re brilliant. All you’ve ever wanted to do is go to art school and head to Paris.”
“Only if you’re with me.” A dream of silly young girl.
“Give it to me.”
“I don’t know.”
“Dani.” Stone’s voice was more authoritative than I’d heard before.
Begrudgingly, I gave it to him, immediately closing my eyes when I heard him ripping open the envelope. He cleared his throat and I moaned.
“Dear Miss Vale.”
When he hesitated, I winced and opened a single eye. “I wasn’t accepted.” I couldn’t tell by his expression one way or the other.
His expression changed, his smile huge. “Dear Miss Vale. We’re happy and pleased to inform you that you’ve been accepted to the Royal College of Art?—”
I didn’t allow him to read another line before squealing and jumping up and down in my seat. “Oh, my God. I can’t believe it.”
“I can. You know you’re good. Very good. This is everything you dreamed about.”
“Yes. It is.” I noticed his face falling as he handed me the letter. “That doesn’t mean we can’t see each other. We can make arrangements when you’re allowed some time off. Plus, that’s in the fall. It’s still summer.” Which would be months, if not longer.
“Yeah, you’re right. I’m so proud of you. What did your parents say about your application?”
I grimaced. “I haven’t told them.”
“Oh, Dani. You can’t keep something like that from them.”
