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“I’m going to use these in a sculpture. The base will be clay, and I’m going to wrap it with different types of yarn and string. I’ll add these along with some other sewing tools and clips of quotes from magazine articles about how we stitch together different parts of ourselves to create a whole.”

I could feel the passion he put into his pieces as he spoke. He seemed to vibrate with energy.

“That sounds amazing. I hope I can see it when you’re finished.”

“I’d love you to come to my next showing. Hopefully Alan will be behind bars by then, but…”

“I’d like that too.” X wouldn’t, but I’d worry about that when the time came.

“What about these? I pointed to a pile of tiny animal figures.”

“Those are for an abstract meadow piece. I’ll paint them in shades of green and attach them to the green canvas I brought. I had some other objects for it, but these are way better. Once they are attached, I’ll paint some flowers and dragonflies and butterflies to finish it.”

I wondered what his pieces sold for because I needed one. “How do you come up with your ideas?”

He smiled. “I find inspiration everywhere. Songs, things I see when I take walks, things friends say, articles I read.”

“I’m really impressed. I know I said that before, but hearing you talk about your art makes it even better.”

“I…” He looked unsure of himself. Did he have that much trouble taking a compliment from me?

“What is it?”

“I didn’t think you’d be so interested.”

“Well, I am. I… I’d like to know more about you.” And wasn’t that a fucking revelation? When had I ever been with a man and thought that?

Lane smiled. “I’d like to know more about you too, but somehow I doubt you’re going to share.”

“I’ll tell you what I can.” I might not want to, but I would. “But first, you have to tell me about what you’re going to do with these.” I pointed to the third pile of objects.

“I don’t know. When I saw them, I knew they’d be right for something, so they’ll go into my collection. I’ll use them eventually.”

“How big is your collection?”

“This box”—he tapped on a box that was intended for storing files—“is full of objects, and I have five more of these in my apartment, plus larger objects I might use in sculptures stored on shelves in the studio’s closet.”

I imagined him going to stores all over the city, looking for things that spoke to him. I wanted to go with him on those trips and watch as inspiration lit him up. “That’s impressive.”

“I like knowing I have a lot of things to look through if I get an idea while I’m in the studio.”

“I can see that.”

He grinned. “It’s my turn to ask questions now.”

It was only fair, but while I’d enjoyed listening to him explain his artistic process, I never liked talking about myself.

“What are you reading?”

At least that was an easy question. “It’s the second book in a series called The Wentworth Saga. It’s set between the world wars, and it’s about a large, wealthy family in England, their servants, and all the crazy things that happen to them.”

“So a bit like Downton Abbey, just a later timeframe?”

“Yes. Very much like that.”

He tilted his head and studied me for a moment. “Did you watch Downton Abbey?”

“I did.” I hoped my answer didn’t sound as defensive as I thought it did.

“Hmm, that’s unexpected. I would’ve guessed you read mostly nonfiction and liked to watch shows with a lot more action.”

“I have plenty of action in my regular life, so that’s not what I go for when I read or watch TV.”

“I’m trying to imagine you curled up under a knitted blanket with a cup of tea, watching Downton. What other shows do you like?”

I scowled at him. “I’ll only tell if you promise not to mock me.”

He rolled his eyes. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“Lane.”

“Fine. No mocking.”

“Schitt’s Creek.”

“Oh yes! I love David and Patrick so much.”

I could just imagine him cheering for them and talking to the characters as if they could hear him.

“What else?”

Did I dare say the next one? “Jane the Virgin.”

“No way.”

“No mocking. You promised.”

“We are totally watching it together tonight.”

I was already enjoying being with him way too much. “I thought you had work to do.”

“I do, but this opportunity is way too good to pass up.”

I rose from the floor, intending to go back to my book. “You can work for a while now, and we’ll see about watching something later.”

He grabbed my hand and pulled me back down. “I’m not done asking questions yet. We’re supposed to be getting to know each other.”

“I’m not sure what—”

“Have you ever had a serious relationship?”

“I…” I nearly lied and said no, but I hated lying to Lane, so ultimately, I told the truth. “Only one, and he… died.”

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