Page 63 of Love Is an Art
I want to rip his hand off hers.
Why isn’t she pulling away? She agreed that he was a pretentious prick and she didn’t need him for her artist career.
I practically slap my forehead.
She’s not an artist.
That must be the scammer guy she’s trying to hook. I hadn’t focused on that.
“Is something wrong?” Sebastian asks, looking back. I’ve stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.
I step back, out of view, and wave him over to the brick wall I’ve moved to stand against.
“Are we now undercover?” Sebastian asks, a laugh in his voice.
“Yes,” I say. “That’s Tessa, the woman I was dating, and that’s the guy who she thinks is a scammer. She’s a lawyer pretending to be an artist to see if he will scam her.”
“Of course,” he says sarcastically. “What?”
“I’ll explain it later.”
“She sounds cool—not like someone you should break up with,” Sebastian says.
I narrow my eyes. “Do you want to help or give commentary?”
“Both,” Sebastian says.
“Go make yourself useful and tell me what they’re doing now. And warn me if they come out.”
Sebastian shakes his head but walks by the café window and glances inside. More like stares inside.Great undercover work, my friend.My phone beeps.
Sebastian:Served mugs, and she has a plate of cake. She’s eating. He’s drinking. A table near them opened up. Should I grab it?
What am I doing? What do I care if that guy seems like bad news? She knows what she’s doing.Maybe.And she’s hardly defenseless. She’s out in public.
Still, I dislike that guy. And she should have backup.
I need to get a costume.
Me:Grab it. Thanks. I’m off to Screaming Mimi’s for a wig.
“What the heck look is that?” Sebastian whispers as I slide into the seat next to him. He’s smartly placed them so that our chairs are together, our backs to the table with Tessa and Jurgen. There are about four other small tables here in the front of the café.
“Seventies Heartthrob Hair. They don’t have a lot of choices for men. This was way better than the mullet wig and mustache.” The brown hair frames my face and reaches down to curl at my shoulders.
Sebastian gestures to the two coffees he ordered us. I drink mine.
“What’s the title of this painting?” Jurgen asks. We can hear them really well.
Well done, Sebastian.
There’s a pause, and then Tessa’s voice says, “Regret.”
I’ve missed the sound of her voice. But not when its timbre deepens with sadness. What does she regret? If only I could see the painting.
“I’ll tell Misty Morano that it’s a yes,” Jurgen says. “I’m sure they will wantRegrettoo. They seemed very keen to have your paintings in their show.”
“That’s great. Thank you so much. This is such a dream come true. I can’t believe I’m going to be in a show,” she says.
