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She looked puzzled.
“I want you to accompany me somewhere tomorrow.”
Chapter Nine
Fiona
Today was the day Christian and I set aside time to let him see my painting. I talked about it singularly, but whenever Christian mentioned it, he gave off the impression that I had a collection.
I did have a collection, but nothing compared to the butterfly in the painting. The butterfly at the time of the painting was done to signify freedom. In a way, I was free, given how I was fired from my waitress job then.
With too much free time on my hands, I made the painting to signify how free I felt. Now, looking at the painting, it has come full circle. I am happy now. My job with Christian felt secure.
I was slowly freeing myself from that worry. I didn’t wake up every morning wondering if this was the day Christian was going to fire me. I had come a long way.
When Christian saw the painting, he would realize what a lovely painter I was. He’d see that I was really multi-talented.
The doorbell rang, and I threw a white piece of fabric over the canvas and hurried to the door. I took a deep breath before opening it, a smile on my face as Christian stood there with a bottle of wine in his hands.
“Hi,” I greeted and moved to the side to let him in.
“Thank you for having me and showing me your lovely painting.”
“You don’t know that it’s lovely,” I said and ushered him onto the sofa. The entire event was starting to feel very formal, even though we wore very casual clothes. I was wearing sweatpants and a white shirt.
Christian was wearing a black shirt and black shorts. The baseball cap he had on now sat next to him on the sofa.
“If it’s done by you, then it’s the prettiest thing in the world.”
It was amazing how he was able to pretend that he could see the canvas.
“And you have nothing to worry about; it’s just me.”
I nodded because he was right. It wasn’t like he was an art appraiser. It was just Christian. And that was the reason why I was so nervous. He was Christian, and there was nothing just about that.
I left the living room and returned to the kitchen to grab two wine glasses. When I returned, Christian was now aware of the canvas because he was looking directly at it.
“Alright,” he said after I poured out the wine. “Time to see it.”
“Promise not to laugh.”
“I won’t.”
And I believed him, like that would surprise anyone. True to his words, he didn’t laugh. He stared at the butterfly painting, and I wondered what it was about it that had him speechless.
Maybe blue and brown weren’t good colors to combine. Did the butterfly look weird? Did the painting even look like a butterfly?
“It’s pretty. What does it represent?”
I looked at the butterfly. “Freedom.”
When I looked back at him, he was nodding with a smile on his face. He patted the space next to him, and I dragged myself over to him. When he handed me my wine glass, he clicked his on it.
“Here’s to freedom.”
I took a sip of my drink as did he.
“So, where are the others?”
