Page 4 of Take This Heart
OMG, the kitchen is backed up and I am texting my sister how much I love her.
Dylan
You’re needier than me, Golds.
And you know you’re all here for it. Love you guys. I’m at the Walker tonight and would much rather be with you.
Dad
I love you all so much. Hanging at the lake. Homesick for all of you.
CHAPTER TWO
CURATED
MILO
She called my work a travesty.
I’ve heard worse. Hell, I’ve read worse in published reviews. But not from someone who looked at my work with what I thought was such admiration. And then the way she looked up at me. There was a spark that crackled back and forth between us.
I’d noticed her before she said a word. There’d been a moment, before anything was said, when I thought she understood what I’d built. That she caught the vision of it all.
But that spark turned into acid when she spoke.
Now, she’s halfway across the gallery, standing beneath a sculptural light installation and looking like she owns the place.
She’s in a deep emerald green dress, the fabric off one shoulder and clinging to all the right places. Her long blonde hair falls in waves down her back. Even the way she holdsher glass of champagne looks proper. She has the aura of someone important. She never introduced herself. Just dropped her opinion like a bomb and then walked away without an apology.
Wait a minute.
She just took a step, and instead of heels to match her fancy gown, she’s wearing black Dr. Martens.
That makes me smile.
Who is this woman?
I lean against a marble pillar, bourbon in hand, trying not to let my eyes drift back to her.
Futile.
I look.
God, help me. She’s gorgeous. And infuriating. She’s laughing now, her head tilted back just enough to let the man at her side believe he said something clever. He didn’t. I know because I’ve met him before. Seth Patterson. He’s a lightweight in design. Paper-thin ideas. No substance.
He leans closer to her and she steps back half an inch, graceful, practiced. She’s good at this.
It’s only after she takes another step back that I see her hand shaking just a bit. Maybe she’s not as calm and collected as she seems.
I want to step in and save her from the lackluster and uncomfortable conversation I know she’s having with Seth, but she called my work a travesty.
The gala is louder this year. Or maybe I’m just noticing more. The clinking glasses and carefully curated laughter—it’s sitting wrong on my skin, like a cat who’s petted in the wrong direction.
My model sits in the center of it all. This was actually a passion project. I’ve put all my efforts into designing a beautiful library in Duluth for what feels like forever and neededsomething else to focus on during the weekends or the nights I couldn’t sleep. What was just passing the time became something I now love and believe in.
Elevated on a white platform beneath spotlights, the installation looks pristine. Every detail precisely constructed.
But her voice echoes over it all.Travesty. You are what’s wrong in America.
