All too soon, Mila’s hands come up to cup mine, and she pulls back. “Well done, Casanova.” She smiles. “Let’s finish our tour.” She turns to walk ahead ofme, and I admire her form.
Following her, because that’s what I do, I tap my hand on the heart carved into the limestone with the initials, HL+JW.
I hope you’re ready to grant my wish, Henry, because there is no other option for me. Mila is my Josephine and I won’t live my life without her as mine.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Mila
“You’re joking?” I look at the building in front of me. It looks more like an abandoned warehouse, but Kash assures me that we won’t get murdered.
“Nope.” He smiles. “Don’t move.”
Climbing out of the vehicle, Kash comes around to my side, opening the door. “Let’s go, Sunshine. We still have one more stop.”
Walking side by side, I follow Kash into the large building and am surprised to find colorful artwork hanging all over. Some of the canvases are covered in neon paint, speckled haphazardly, while others are a little bit neater with neutral colors.
“I didn’t know places like this exist,” I tell him honestly. It’s not like I get out a whole lot, but it was only a half hour drive toSplatter & Shatter.
There are lockers lining one wall, and a small arcade area playing pop music. Following Kash, I can’t help but wonder what we’re doing here. I’m not much of an artist, so I’m worried I won’t be good at whatever this is.
“Hey, man,” a clerk covered in tattoos greets Kash. He looks like one of the guys you’d probably find at their shop. His dark hair is tucked under a backwards ballcap, and a ring pokes out from his lower lip.
“Hey, Miles. How’s it going? How’s the missus?” They do some sort of bro handshake, and Kash puts his arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer toward him. “This is my Mila.”
“Nice to meet you, Mila.” He nods in greeting. “I’ve got your ponchos and gear here as requested. You can store your stuff over in the lockers.” He gestures with his head before handing Kash a key. “Don’t break anything. You don’t have one ofthoserooms.”
Laughing, Kash grabs the key and items from him, then pulls me behind him. “No promises,” he calls out over his shoulder.
I follow Kash, handing him my bag when he opens the locker. “Don't worry. It’ll all be safe here. Miles runs a clean place. Doesn’t put up with bullshit.”
“Um, what kind of place is this?” I still don’t know what he signed us up for.
“I’ll show you.” He tugs my hand, leading me down a hall until he finds the door he’s looking for. Swinging it open, I see the room is empty except for two large canvases on the wall, along with some paints on a tray.
“Splash & Splatteris Miles’ brainchild,” he explains, pulling a poncho out of fresh packaging. “Part of the rooms are set up for destruction, and the other part are set up for creation.”
“I’m still confused.”
“You’ve never heard of a rage room?”
“Of course I have, but I didn’t think they were actually a thing around here.”
“You’d be surprised. It’s fun. We should do it next time.”
“You’ve done one?” I look at him in shock. I’ve seen Kash angry a couple of times, but not angry enough to destroy something.
“Sure have. The guys and I have gone a few times. It’s nice to get some frustration out every once in a while. Life can be really shitty sometimes, you know? It may seem crazy, but swinging a bat into an old TV, or a shelf of vases, and watching them shatter is some kind of cheap therapy I’m thankful exists. Plus”— he flashes me a cheeky smile— “I don’t have to clean the mess up.”
Mulling over his words, I can see the appeal. Sometimes lifecanbe shitty, and the idea of breaking a bunch of stuff in a controlled environment seems like a good time.
“But we’re not breaking anything?” I clarify.
“Correct. We’re creating today instead.” He tugs a plastic poncho down over my head. “Don’t want to get our clothes messy. There aregoggles too, just to be on the safe side.” He pulls them over my head, sliding them into place.
I probably look stupid, but I’m willing to try this. Kash has put a lot of thought into our day together. “What if I’m not good at art? That’s kind of your thing.”
“Art doesn’t belong to just one person, Mila. It belongs to everyone. Everyone can create.” His brown eyes bore into mine. “You create things for people to enjoy too; it’s just in a different way.”
