Page 41 of Love Is an Art
“Two years.”
“That’s … a long time. Much longer than I’ve ever dated anyone. It must have been serious.”
I shrug and look away.Yes.I don’t want to talk about my ex.
“What’s a priority for you in a relationship?” she asks.
“Loyalty,” I say without hesitating. “I need to know someone has my back and I can trust them.”
Her eyes widen.
“What about you?” I ask.
She purses her lips as she takes her time considering my question. “Loyalty, of course, but also understanding. Someone who understands me and supports me.”
I nod.
We both dig into our dishes, and there’s a comfortable silence as we savor our dinner.
“Yummy,” she says.
“So have you been painting for long?”
“I started painting in kindergarten.”
“As one does,” I say.
She smiles at me.
The air is balmy, and everyone sitting around appears to be enjoying the night out, excited for summer weather to begin.
“Do you usually date artists?” I ask.
“No,” she says. “I’m not hung up on occupation. Why? Do you only date artists?”
“No.”
“I would think people in finance would tend to date other people in finance … or maybe lawyers,” she says.
“I dated a lawyer once.” I frown.
“And never again?”
“Something like that.”
“But it’s not like all lawyers are the same.”
“Are you trying to persuade me to date a lawyer?” I ask, my eyebrow raised. “Is that in your interest?”
“I have a lot of lawyer friends,” she says weakly.
I slurp the last of my ramen. “What made you want to be an artist?”
“It wasn’t so much a want, as a calling. But I have a long way to go. I look at this as a marathon.”
“I hope you’re not going to give up.”
“Because my painting was so terrible?” she asks.
