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Sliding her arm through mine, she looks up at me adoringly with those big blue eyes. The sight almost takes my breath away. I already know there will be nothing inside this museum that can hold a candle to Poppy Danforth.
“I haven’t come here in so long,” she says.
We get our tickets and decide to roam for a while to take in as many of the exhibits as we can until dinner. However, there is a new one that I have a sneaking suspicion she’ll love.
Poppy is drawn to a photography gallery where I find a display on the Art of Advertisement depicting posters from the late 19thcentury. “These are fascinating,” I utter to no one in particular. Poppy is examining a colorful poster depicting the Morning Journal from 1895.
“They are,” an attractive woman to my left replies with a sultry grin.
“Do you happen to know where the Kintsugi exhibit is located? I’m excited to show my girlfriend.”
Girlfriend?
What the hell? Don’t get ahead of yourself, Broadie. In my haste to let this woman know I’m not available for small talk unless it’s with Poppy, I inadvertently put a label on us.
“No,” she says, her response flat.
I turn to see Poppy coming in my direction and smile widely at her. Taking her hand, we meander through the different sculptural exhibits before migrating to a large collection of paintings. Then, as I turn the corner, I see it. Poppy steps beside me, and she audibly gasps.
“Oh, Broadie. I can’t believe it. This is my favorite.” She covers her mouth with her hands, seeming to almost become emotional at the collection. “How did you know?”
“I can’t explain it, really. I saw a piece on the news about Kintsugi. They said it was coming here for a short time, and I immediately thought of you. It’s not what I think of when I picture pottery. In my head, I picture Demi Moore inGhost.” I chuckle. “But as I understand it, Kintsugi is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the fragmented pieces with gold or silver. To make the cracked portion part of the art, rather than hiding it.”
Poppy’s hand flies to her heart. “That’s it exactly. But what about it made you think about me?”
“When I was making small talk about your hobbies on the jet, trying to distract you from worrying about your mother’s condition, your spirits seemed to lift as you mentioned wanting to reignite your love of pottery. That it was therapeutic for you. Then, I saw the piece on the news. They highlighted an artist who was taking broken bowls that had been passed down through generations and mending them with beautiful gold lacquer. Incorporating the broken pieces into the art as a whole made it that much more beautiful. I have a feeling caring for your husband did that for you.”
Poppy comes closer, and I see tears in her eyes.Fuck, Broadie. Why’d you have to go and bring up her dead husband, you moron?But before I can apologize, she cups my face with her hands and kisses me. And this is no chaste kiss. My arms slide around her waist, and I take what she’s offering.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
We spend the rest of our time here in this one exhibit. I can see her cataloging her favorite pieces in her mind. I couldn’t have hoped for a better way to begin our date.
“These are so beautiful. I have so many ideas now.”
“Good.”
“You know, you could come with me.”
“To an art class? Pop, you know I love you, but there’s no way in hell I’d go to an art class. I’ve barely done anything in years but work. That would drive me insane.”
Poppy is staring at me with her mouth hanging open.
“What?”
“Did you just say I love you?”
Shit. It was a figure of speech.“Poppy, I—”
“Oh my god. You should see your face right now. I’m kidding.” She snorts.
“Well, keep laughing like that, princess, and I’m sure it’s just a matter of time before I’m madly in love.”
“Ha ha.”
“I almost didn’t hear your snort over my stomach growling. Are you ready for dinner?”
