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She narrowed her eyes. “Is it appropriate to curse in a gallery?”
He laughed. “Fuck if I know.”
She shook her head. “Do you really think I could go to school?”
“Yeah, I do. And you know I could help you, right?”
“I know you could try,” she said playfully. “Whether or not it works is another matter.”
They went through the rest of the gallery, chatting casually and holding hands. Toward the end of their tour, Haven paused in front of a pencil drawing, a figure of a woman from the back with a vibrantly colored sphere hovering in the air beside her. Haven was transfixed by it, a smile gracing her lips as she reached out to trace the outline of the drawing. “I like this one. It reminds me of myself.”
“How so?”
“Well, the girl . . . she’s stuck in a life where everything’s bland and hopeless, but then this beautiful thing comes along and brings color into her world. Color she never expected to see.”
He stared at her, stunned, before turning back to the drawing. He had no idea how she had gotten something so deep from a pencil sketch. “You know, maybe we’ll see your work in a place like this someday.”
“You think I’m that good?”
“Of course I do.”
* * *
Carmine turned on a side road that weaved through the mountain, driving until the small cabin came into view. It was just one room, a bed and a fireplace, with a small bathroom built in. He parked the car in front as the sun peeked out from behind the clouds, casting light along the meadow surrounding it. Tucked in among the trees were some deer, and Carmine stared at them as one took a few steps in his direction, feeling like he’d been sucked into a Disney movie.
If one started talking, he was fucking running.
“What is this place?” Haven asked as they climbed out of the car.
He pulled the key from his pocket. “Home for the next twenty-four hours. I rented it.”
She eyed him skeptically. “No wonder you took me to a free gallery. This must’ve cost a fortune.”
He laughed as he grabbed a basket of food from the car and spread a blanket out on the grass. “Come on, let’s eat. I think I can still afford to feed you.”
Haven looked at it with surprise. “A picnic?”
She sat on the blanket, spreading her legs out in front of her. He sat beside her and pulled out the containers of food. Haven grabbed a grape from one and popped it into her mouth as he took the top off of the tall green bottle. Haven watched him warily as he poured the bubbly drink.
She took a glass carefully. “Is this alcohol?”
“I’m afraid not, tesoro. Sparkling grape juice. We’re going sober tonight.”
She looked surprised as she took a sip.
They munched on the food for a while, chatting and laughing. She kicked off her shoes as they talked about trivial things, like TV and weather, before delving into more serious topics. She told him stories from her fucked-up equivalent of a childhood, and in turn, he talked about his mom.
Carmine reached inside the basket and pulled out two Toblerone bars. “Dia said you’re supposed to give chocolate to your sweetheart on Valentine’s Day.”
Haven opened hers and pulled off a triangle. “I thought Saint Valentine’s Day was just a massacre.”
He choked. “How do you know about that?”
“Jeopardy!”
Saint Valentine’s Day massacre, when La Cosa Nostra in Chicago killed seven Irish associates. Carmine was curious if she realized the connection between his family and those things, but he thought better than to bring it up. The last thing he wanted was to have their night tainted by reminders of the world they’d have to go back to.
They watched the sunset quietly. It was one of the things he loved about her—she never felt like she had to fill the silence. He gazed at the sky when something wet splat on the center of his forehead. Closing his eyes instinctively, he reached up and prayed he hadn’t been shit on by a bird. He felt another drop after a second and groaned at the same time Haven laughed. “It’s raining.”
