Page 15 of Set the Moment
Sienna rolls her eyes, throwing her head up to the sky as if asking God for mercy as she snatches up her bag yet again and leaves the studio, slamming the door behind her.
Well…that went great.
With a deep sigh, I clean up the studio, grabbing the box she’d left in the room and the small white paper that fell out of her bag.
Though that wasn’t how I expected our first meeting to go, it could’ve been worse. She’s kinda cute when she’s mad anyways. Like an angry chipmunk.
My hand itches to read the note that’d fallen, and as soon as I’m safely in my SUV, I do.
“Sienna’s 21 before 21?”
My eyes skim over the list, growing wider and wider as they do until they land on one thing in particular.
Have a New Year's kiss.
If anyone in this world is kissing Sienna Jones onthatday, it’ll be me. And I know just how I’ll make it happen.
five
Sienna
MaybeIoverreacted,butugh! The nerve of him. Nothing screams toxic masculine energy than a man inserting himself in your space and trying to dominate everything you’ve worked on. Not only did he completely disregard the fact that I have ten little ones depending on me as their teacher, he ignored my set schedule that I had curated with my boss.
After leaving work abruptly, I received a nice long text message from Calista, alerting me of my new schedule, what’s required of me, and new locations to meet mystudentat. Not only did Jace trample on my plans, he had to have bribed someone because I’m virtually off of work every day except for Wednesday and Fridays.
Two days that I had planned to work on the Winter Showcase with Daisy earlier today.
Heaving a loud sigh, I feel like I’m going to explode as I enter The Sweet Tooth for the second time today. My skin thrums with frustrated energy, and I try and fail to contain myself as I stalk towards the front counter.
“Back so soon?” Saree’s honeyed voice is like music to my ears as she pops up from behind the counter, smiling like a mad-man.
She must sense my anger because the smile drops immediately as her brows furrow, taking me in. My clothes are slightly tousled and my hair is fuzzy from yanking on a hoodie in the car. My shoulders are bunched up, and I’m pretty sure that I’m wound so tight that the slightest touch would cause me to combust.
“Talk or eat?” she asks, looking down at the register, tapping away.
“Eat. Definitely eat.” I frown, reaching for my purse when she holds a hand out to me, effectively stopping me in my tracks.
“I got this, baby girl. Go sit down and take a breather.” Saree’s smile is warm as she gestures towards the lavender, pink, and sage green bean bags chairs in the “quiet nook” of the bakery. The quiet nook is essentially a small area where customers have a small array of books and comfortable seating to read and eat their baked goods.
With a groan, I plop down on the sage green one and grimace, cursing it mentally for its color.
Why does my favorite chair have to be the same color as his eyes?
My frown softens when Saree brings me a small tray of Lavender Love Macarons and chocolate chip cookies with a small peach ginger tea.
My muscles unwind as I take a tentative sip of the warm tea, blowing to cool it down.
Instinctively, my hand moves without thought towards my phone, successfully pulling up the one app that kept me in touch with my friends over the past two years.
Muscle memory is a hell of a thing.
Without fail, I find myself on Jace’s art page, my fingers caressing the screen as I scroll through the millions of paintings, sketches, and sculptures he’s made in the time we’ve been apart.
I scroll until I find it, the painting of the unfinished girl.
It’s a brown skinned model in a perfect arabesque. Her body is light as a feather as she reaches out with a sophisticated hand, reminding me of someone on a mission. She’s graceful and poised, her shoulders relaxed with the confidence of knowing her work and executing it perfectly. But that’s not what sends me for a loop—it’s her face.
He’d captured the woman, up until her neck. The painting was posted a year ago and he’d titled itUnfinished: The Girl Who Loved.
