Page 83 of Don't Bet On It
The double meaning of her words wasn’t lost on me. “Is that so?”
“Yup.” She bobbed her head solemnly. “You’re a maestro in certain mediums.”
That could’ve been the nicest thing anybody had ever said to me. “You’re much better than me when it comes to sculptures.” I hesitated and then got to the reason I’d brought her here, and it wasn’t to brag about my studio. “I thought, since you don’t have a current space to work, that maybe you might want to work here.”
Surprise blew across her face like a hurricane. “What?” She looked gobsmacked.
“You don’t have to,” I said hurriedly. “This isn’t pressure. It’s just… Your apartment is small. You keep talking about pulling the trigger on studio space. You seem a little worried, though.”
“I’m afraid the money will dry up,” she admitted ruefully. “I’ve managed to pay down my debt—and fast—but Kyla hates me. The first chance she gets to fire me, she’s going to take it.”
“You said Kyla has calmed down some.”
“Yes, but if there’s an opening, we both know she’ll walk through it. She won’t ignore that gift.”
“And then you’ll be right back where you were,” I surmised.
One of her shoulders hopped. “Not exactly in the same position. I’ve managed to pay all my credit cards down, and I actually have a balance in my savings account for the first time in, well, ever. I’m way better off than I was.”
“But you think things will fall apart again.”
She nodded. “That’s the way my life goes. Good things happen—not often, but they happen—and then bad things happen. I’m on a swing, and each time I sail toward the good stuff, I build up even more momentum for the bad swing.”
She was good with words as well as paints and pottery. “Tallulah, you can work here.” My voice rang with sincerity—and maybe a little vulnerability. “I have plenty of space. We can even work together in here at times.”
Something occurred to me, so I added the next part. “Or, if you can only work alone, we’ll come up with a schedule. I just want you to have a place to work. You’ve gone without one for too long.”
She chewed on her bottom lip. “How much is the rent? The space I was looking at was a quarter the size of this, and the building is nowhere near as nice. I’m not sure I can swing my half of the rent.”
“First off, I don’t expect you to pay rent.”
Her eyes went steely. “I will pay rent. That’s the only way this is going to work.”
I had to bite back a curse word. She was squirrelly when it came to money. “Well, I pay two grand a month. Can you swing one grand a month?”
Her eyebrows rose. “Are you being serious? You only pay two grand a month?”
“I told you the rent was reasonable.”
“Yeah, but…” She trailed off. “You could be snowing me.” Shrewdness infiltrated her features. “You could be throwing out that number to make me say yes.”
“I can show you the receipts in my email,” I replied dryly.
She sighed. “Do you really want to share this space with me? This is your utopia.”
How could I explain that there was no utopia without her? The truth of the matter was, despite my earlier determination, I didn’t see this relationship—and it was a relationship—ending. I no longer wanted that. I no longer anticipated that.
She wasn’t ready to hear that, though.
“I can work with other people,” I replied. “I actually prefer it sometimes.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Her lips curved, and she stared toward the huge bay windows. “Then I accept.” Her voice was low. “I’ll send you the first payment tomorrow.”
I grinned. “I’ll get you the codes for the front door and this unit.”
