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“I won’t, but I don’t think I'll need to, going by that dazed look in your eyes.”
“Dazed look?” I scoff. “Must be from all the painting.”
“Oh, is that what we’re calling it nowadays?” She waggles her eyebrows.
“Oh, shut up”—I pat her cheek— “and speaking of… Being on tour seems to suit you. Must be all that sweating during a performance, hmm?”
She laughs; so do I. Then she shifts her weight from foot to foot. "I may have… uh… met someone."
A burst of happiness blooms in my chest. I feel so happy and I want Lizzie to feel the same. “How wonderful!” I throw my arms about her. “Tell me all about it." I pull her over to the couch in the corner, then head to the small refrigerator in the corner.
"Wow, all the comforts of home." She accepts the bottle of water I offer her.
"Quentin insisted, after he found out I hate to leave the studio when I’m working. He keeps it stocked with water, juices and healthy snacks, so I never starve."
"That’s very considerate of him."
I nod. "He knows how to calm me down and anticipate my needs before I do. And he's so caring. Oh my God!” I’m swooning, but I can’t stop myself.
She flashes me a knowing smile. "He’s one hot silver fox."
You have no idea. I clear my throat. "Anyway, I’m done with the paintings. I can relax."
She glances at the one on the easel. "That’s very different from your normal style." She rises to her feet and moves toward it. She surveys it closely. "It’s edgier, and evocative, and sexy; yet also, haunting. There are depths to it… It feels like every time I look at it, I could find a new meaning.
"I do like it." I walk over to stand next to her. "I wish I didn’t have to sell it."
"So don’t."
I shake my head. "I’m contracted to give all twenty-five of the paintings for the show."
She shoots me a sideways glance "You could afford to buy it, you know?"
I scowl. "What are you talking about?"
"Pay the gallery owner and buy it for yourself."
I laugh. "That’s insane. I painted it. And you’re saying I should buy it back for myself?"
"You have the money, don’t you?" Her phone buzzes. She pulls it out of her pocket; her hands fly over the screen. There’s a smile on her face. "I have to go. Someone's waiting for me."
"Is that the boyfriend?"
She rolls her eyes. "Too early to call him that."
“But it’s headed there?”
She blushes a little. “We’ll see.”
“You haven’t told me anything about him yet,” I remind her.
“Let’s save some of the gossip for next time, shall we?”
Hmm. Why do I get the feeling she’s hiding something? I open my mouth to ask, but she leans in and kisses me on my cheek. “No more questions; I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”
Okay then. Guess I’m not the only one who needs a little space.
She turns to leave.
