Page 95 of Don't Bet On It
“I … don’t … know.” When I tried to think about it, I came up empty.
“Well, I think that’s what you need to figure out.” Olivia was matter of fact. “Personally, I already know the answer to that question. When you figure it out, you’re going to have all the answers you’ve been looking for. I’ll be here to gloat when it’s time.”
I touched my tongue to my top lip. “And you think he feels the same way?”
“I really do.”
“Maybe you should ask him, though,” Ruby suggested. “You’re not going to believe us. You should hear it from him.”
“What makes you think I’ll believe him?”
“Because you want to” was her simple reply.
I should’ve laughed at the response, but she wasn’t wrong. I did want to believe him. “I’ll think about it,” I said finally, my eyes moving forward so I could focus on my pedicure. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll think about it.”
“That’s a step in the right direction,” Olivia said. “Trust me. Take a chance. You might get everything you never knew you wanted.”
And what if I did? Would that be a good or bad thing? That was the biggest question I was struggling with. What would getting everything I ever wanted even look like?
26
TWENTY-SIX
“What’s this?”
Tallulah was a little reverent when she walked into the studio—early, I might add—and caught sight of the pottery wheel I was having installed.
I glanced over at her. “You can’t make sculptures without a wheel” was the only thing I could come up with as a response.
She didn’t look convinced. “But … I work with stone a lot.” The way she gnawed on her bottom lip told me that was by necessity. She was excited about the pottery wheel but didn’t want to show it.
“See, I thought maybe you could work in more than one medium.” I gave her a sidelong look. “I’ve personally been considering working with metal, which will require a blowtorch.”
Her eyes went big. “I’ve always wanted to use a blowtorch.”
I laughed at the excitement in her voice. “Me too. The thing is, I don’t want to do that here.”
Her eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Why not?”
“Because there are homes in this building, and as much as I enjoy my art, I would hate for an accidental fire to start in a residential building.”
“Good point.”
“I thought so.” I moved closer to her, my hand roaming her back. I didn’t realize I was going to volunteer new information until it was already coming out of my mouth. “I want to save enough to put a studio in an old garage.”
She snapped her head toward me. “Give up this place?” She looked inexplicably sad about it.
“No.” I shook my head. Because of her, I never wanted to give up this place. “I was thinking that we could keep this place for just us. Eventually, though—and this is still a bit down the line—I’ve always wanted to open a huge industrial studio. Other artists could come in and pay a fair amount for rent to offset the cost.”
She seemed surprised by the admission, but her expression settled quickly. “That’s … interesting.”
“Yeah?”
“A garage makes a lot of sense,” she admitted. “Metal work is fun but dangerous.”
“I like to consider myself a conscientious artist,” I said. “A stand-alone building makes the most sense for metal work. I’ve done some research. They’re converting a lot of the older gas stations and garages. Those spaces would be perfect.”
“A garage, especially,” she agreed. “The bays are already set up.”
