Page 83 of The Cost of Love

“That’s odd, because this has been the realest thing I have ever been a part of.”

She giggles and covers her face before leaning up and kissing me on the cheek. “You know what I mean. I just never thought this would happen to me.” Her voice holds a wistfulness that is perfect for the fairytale feelings in this car.

It encircles us the whole way to her place, coating the evening in glitter. I imagine this as a painting and try to figure out how best to showcase the feelings of these last few months. All I know is it will have to be as bright and beautiful as she is under the glow of the streetlights outside her place. I capture it with a picture to use as inspiration later.

“I love you,” she says as if it’s always been the case.

“I love you, too.”

Just like every time I say it, she tears up a little before giving me her brightest smile. I’ll do anything to get that look from her.

Chapter 32

Alex

Ever since I met the kids officially, Chanice has been freer with her time. Inviting me to the movies with them, or to just see the Christmas lights and holiday market on Oxford Street, it’s clear that she is trying to include me in all of their lives. It’s only been a couple of weeks of me being a part of theirs, and it already feels like I was always meant to be here. Especially as we sit on the floor of my living room, eating Chinese food and playing board games. As I look at all of them, they look like what’s been missing from this place.

“I don’t think this game is fair,” Jamal says as he stares at the board.

So far, Gabby, in all her tiny glory, has secured two monopolies on the same side. So going down that street is like a death wish. She has already taken out Imani, and the only reason Chanice and I are still in the game is because we both have hotels on our properties. Honestly, Jamal is only staying in the game out of some crazy luck that has him skipping everything.

“What’s not fair about it?” Chanice asks.

“Well, she just smiled and acted like she didn’t understand the game, and you guys all traded with her, and now she is playing dirty.” He huffs and crosses his arms. Gabby cackles and rolls around, clapping her hands.

“That’s life, sir. Sometimes people outsmart you in business deals, and you have to try to find a way to stay afloat. She played the game the way it’s intended to be played. Now you know for next time,” I say.

His little brow furrows, and he finally picks up the dice and throws them. When he lands on her highest property, that is the end of him.

Like most kids, he doesn’t take losing well and pulls on his sister’s ponytail. That just causes her to laugh harder.

With him out of the game, it was only a matter of time until she took us out, too, so half an hour later, we’re packing it away. Gabby and Jamal are arguing as Chanice takes them to the kitchen to get ice cream, so it’s just Imani and me sitting against my couch, watching them.

“Your house is nice. Usually, posh people have boring houses, but yours has character.” She looks around, and her eyes land on a new sculpture I’ve added in the corner.

“Thanks. Growing up, the house I lived in was like that. All the artwork was stuff just to impress other people, and the furniture was monochrome and dull. I didn’t want that for my place.”

She crosses her legs, sitting forward. “When I finally get my own flat, some hole in the wall where I can damn near touch every side of it while standing in the middle, it’s going to scream my name when I walk in. I plan on wasting a lot of money on clothes and house stuff.”

I look at her outfit and see a style that is the type of look fashion houses will steal. Streetwear that they say the streets of London inspired, when really it was this teenaged girl on the tube. She is all flair and originality.

“Do you like art?” I ask her.

She looks around the room again. “Yeah.”

“Okay, follow me.”

Usually, I don’t like to show my work. It’s too personal and feels interwoven into my opinion of myself. But I want her to glimpse this side of me.

I open my workroom and flick on the lights. On the easel is the painting that I did of Chanice when she sat for me a few months ago. I turn it towards Imani so she can see it.

“Holy shit,” she says while walking closer. Her eyes roam up and down the canvas, taking in all the details.

The vibrant colors of Chanice in front of the black-and-white rendering I did of the couch, as she stares at me with a look of adoration. The details are etched and painted in a way that hopefully highlights all of her beauty. I hope she sees her sister the way I do in this image.

“You did this?” she asks.

I nod and step back, waiting.