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Could she do this?
Could she really get everything she ever wanted? Could she make the art that she loved and love the man that made her life feel like art?
She pushed open the door to her new office and stopped.
It was even better than she remembered.
It was as if André had known exactly what she was going to need to do this thing with Zara.
She got to work, sorting the calendar, making arrangements with Zara’s people. Johnny came in and she told him the news. He didn’t look surprised but he did look proud. Of her.
Add one more warm fuzzy to the treasure box in her heart.
André had been right. The people around her supported her because they believed in her. Not because they pitied her.
She knew that—had known that the entire time—but she’d needed reminding.
After she’d spoken to Johnny, she went through what she had on hand and what she needed to procure so there wouldn’t be any interruptions during the recording process.
“Do you have time to eat?”
She turned around from taking notes on the equipment in the second slide-out space André had built.
And there was the most handsome man in the world, holding a bag that smelled a lot like La Morena’s.
She skip-hopped across the office and threw her arms around his neck. She kissed him on the lips. Just a quick, hard press, then leaned back and smiled at him.
“Hi,” she said, happier than she could remember being in a very long time.
And happy was her baseline, so that was saying something.
“Hi,” he returned, his free hand on her lower back, his smile warm and sweet.
“Have lunch with me?” she asked.
“Only if I’m not a distraction,” he replied.
“No.” She held his face in both hands. “Not a distraction. My inspiration.”
He lowered his head to kiss her soft and slow. Her belly dipped and her heart sighed. She had missed this.
But no.
Not this.
Because it had never been quite like this.
He let her go and they made a small picnic on the floor of her office.
While they ate, she told him all she’d been working on that morning when something occurred to her.
“What aboutourschedule?” she asked.
André grabbed one of the many throw pillows from the couch and dropped it on the floor. He stretched out his long legs and rested his head on the pillow.
“What about it?” he asked.
“When do you go back to school?”
