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“I’m listening and interpreting. I’m fairly certain you’re more upset with the interpretation than the listening.” She pauses to pull wet strands of her hair back from her face. “I’m assuming what just happened means we are now being friendly, yes?”
I open my mouth to answer and quickly close it. I can scarcely understand the current conversation, let alone try to interpret what I felt when I kissed her. My silence is answer enough.
“Perfect. Glad we have an understanding.” Lifting onto her toes, she plants a light kiss along my jaw. “Good night, Ethan.”
My chest constricts. Every time she’s said my name, it carried a cool bite to it. Now, it rolls off with a smooth warmth. She starts to walk away, but I can’t resist wanting to hear my voice from her lips one more time.
“Wait. Say that again.”
She stops to look over her shoulder at me.
“What? I said we have an un—”
“No, not that. The last thing.”
“Good night…Ethan.”
I don’t hide the wide grin that spreads across my face. She shakes her head and turns to walk away. I remain rooted to the spot, wearing a silent, idiotic smile. She glances over her shoulder and lets out the most adorable snort.
“If you stand outside my house with a boom box, I swear to all that is holy, I will shoot you.”
As she saunters up the trail, I realize I’ll never be able to truly let her go again.
The rest of my creation takes form through visions of Patience. Standing back to look at my marionette, a sense of rightness takes root in my chest.
For so long, I sought perfection. Perhaps my mantra is more than words.
Perfection can be found in imperfection. I just needed someone to guide me.
21
My legs shiver as I wait outside the auction house for Lennox. My mint green jumpsuit is the perfect picture of professional elegance, but too thin to protect me from the elements. When Lennox’s car pulls up, it’s a welcome sight. As he steps out of the car in his white suit, my lips tug up into a smile.
“Hello, my dear!” He leans in and kisses my cheek. Then takes my arm in his as we proceed up the steps to the auction house.
“Good morning! So, what do you have your eyes on today? The office didn’t send me a program.”
His mustache wiggles as he fumbles through his pockets.
“Here, this is what I want.” He hands me a crumpled piece of paper with the photo of a vase circled in red ink multiple times.
“Are you sure you want this vase?”
It’s completely different from anything in his current collection.
“Of course. What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing! It’s just that this is a Barbotine vase; it’s not going to complete the collection you currently have.”
He snatches the paper and pockets it.
“I know that.” He reaches for the door and looks over his shoulder at me, his eyes only visible over the cut of his glasses. “I’m starting a new collection. And apparently, according to you, the current vases in my collection are worthless clay and paint.” He steps aside and holds the door open for me to enter.
Stepping inside, I turn to wait for him.
“I didn’t say it like that. Stop putting words in my mouth, old man.”
A smirk crosses his face. Few people in the world appreciate my rude humor.
