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Date? The word caught Haven off guard. Nicholas looked just as surprised. “Date? With who?”
“With her boyfriend,” Dia said when Haven remained quiet. “You know—Carmine.”
Nicholas’s expression fell. “DeMarco?”
“What other Carmine is there?” Dia asked. “And don’t be so shocked. He’s not the same person you knew.”
“Carmine will never change.” Nicholas’s voice was scathing. “He might pull the wool over your eyes, but I’m not charmed by him like everyone else. Everyone in this ridiculous town still thinks the sun rises and sets on that guy, that he can do no wrong. It’s bizarre.” He paused, fiddling with his candy. “I have to go.”
Dia scooted out of the booth to let him pass. He put a piece of candy down on the table in front of Haven before stalking away, shoving the door open and leaving the diner without eating.
Haven glanced down at the orange candy heart in front of her, reading the words Talk 2 Me faintly written on it in pink.
* * *
Carmine paced the foyer again, dressed in a black suit and nervously twirling a red rose. Ever since he had told Dia about his plans, she had been calling it Operation Cinderella, although he thought it was more like Operation Please-Don’t-Fuck-This-One-Up. The closest he got to being Prince Charming was being a Principe della Mafia, but there was nothing remotely romantic about that.
His mind ran through all the potential catastrophes as he waited, already preparing for the worst. He might say something wrong and offend her. She might be disappointed or overwhelmed by it all. The picnic would be a disaster, with food poisoning or invading ants. If none of that happened, it would storm, even though the weatherman assured a clear night.
Earthquake. Tornado. Tsunami. Monsoon. Hurricane. Flood. Hail. Blizzard. He didn’t know if half were possible, but he imagined them all happening at once.
Eventually the clunky hunk of junk Dia called a car pulled up outside. His heart pounded hard. It was only Haven, he reminded himself. It was the girl who, somehow, saw him at his worst and still managed to love him.
The door opened and Haven stepped in. She fidgeted in a white dress, a tiny bit of makeup on her face, her wavy hair tamed and pulled back. “Buon San Valentino,” he said, holding out the flower. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
Smiling sheepishly, she took the flower from him.
* * *
Carmine turned off the highway when they made it to Black Mountain, driving straight to the art center on Cherry Street. The sign above the main entrance of the gray building announced what it was, but as Carmine helped Haven out of the car, all he saw in her expression was confusion.
“It’s a gallery,” he explained, not knowing if she’d understand.
“Like a museum?”
“Yes, like that.”
Excitement flared in her eyes, and he knew then he had made the right choice. He took her hand to lead her inside. The place was dim, only a subtle glow of light throughout the building, shining above the scattered exhibits. “Come on, tesoro.”
She didn’t move. “Don’t you have to pay?”
“No.” He hadn’t expected her to ask that. “You don’t have to pay to look at the art.”
He stood there, apprehensive about what she thought. Now he started to feel bad bringing her somewhere that didn’t cost him a dime.
“This place is really free?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He never thought about it before. “Educational reasons, I guess. Artists are kinda like musicians and work more for pleasure than money.”
He had no idea if he was right or not, but it sounded good.
They walked around, pausing every few feet to check out exhibits—carvings and pottery, sculptures and paintings, drawings and photography. It wasn’t the usual thing he would find interesting, but anything was enjoyable with Haven around. She glowed the entire time, and he just stood back, listening with amazement as she analyzed and dissected the art.
“You need to go to college,” he said. “You’re too damn smart not to.”
