Page 48 of Love Is an Art
Sure of what?
That I wouldn’t get my heart crushed again?
As if I had some way to tell.
When I froze when I thought I saw Paisley ahead of us … That was a grim reminder I’mnotready to jump into another relationship.
I hate that Paisley has made me question my instincts. But I can’t help it. Tessa seems totally cool, but …
Plus, I didn’t want to look like a jerk who expected more than a kiss on a first date.
“How was your date?” Ben asks, peering around the divider that separates our desks. On the other side of me, Anthony is barking buy orders into the phone.
“Date was great.” I check the latest market figures. The fund’s returns are on track.
“And was dating an artist everything you imagined?”
I’m going to ignore that slight mocking tone.
“She’s terrible.” I lean back in my chair, scooting it out a bit so I face Ben.
“A terrible person?”
“A terrible artist—at least at first. Unbelievably bad.”
“What do you mean?”
I show him a photo of her painting from the auction. “This is what she painted at the auction event last night.”
Ben’s brow creases. He’s silent, staring at my photo.
“Is it supposed to represent something?” he asks. “Or is it supposed to be abstract?”
“It’s not abstract—at least not intentionally,” I say. “Guess what it is.”
He looks pained. “Is it a submarine under water? A castle wall? It’s a castle wall, right?”
“It’s a skyline. Those flat, gray boxes—shapes—are the buildings. And this is a window. I’m not sure why there’s only one window.”
Ben nods slowly. A flurry of activity erupts to our left as one of the traders bids up some stock.
“There’s no depth.” I shake my head and gesture with my head at the framed, hand-drawn picture on Ben’s desk. “Your niece’s drawing over there is better.”
Ben emits a sigh through his teeth as if perplexed. “Huh.”
“So bad,” I say. “And now I own it.”
“You bought it?”
“I had to support her.”
“Where are you going to put it?”
“I don’t know yet,” I say. “I have to hang it up somewhere in case she comes over.”
“You can put it in the bedroom, and then you have an excuse.”
“I don’t need an excuse.” I punch him lightly on the shoulder. Conversations buzz all around us.
