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“Of course.” Conway gave me a one-armed hug. “It’s nice to see that you’re doing better.”
“I am?” I asked in surprise.
“Definitely.” Sapphire hugged me next. “It’s the first time I’ve seen you smile in over two months.”
I smiled? “Yeah…I guess so.”
Conway kept his arm around Sapphire’s waist as he looked at me on the sidewalk. “I like Antonio.”
I didn’t narrow my eyes even though I wanted to. “Con, you hardly know him.”
“But I liked what I saw,” he said. “He included himself in our conversation instead of being intimidated. He connected with all of us. He made jokes, never took himself too seriously, and he was always himself. Plus, I can tell he’s hung up on you.”
I tried to stop the blush from entering my cheeks, but it was no use.
“So infatuated with you,” Sapphire said. “It’s obvious.”
They had no idea just how intimate Antonio and I had already been, that he was willing to wait until I was ready before something could finally happen between us. The second he set his sights on me, he’d made up his mind.
“Any man who can spend time with your family so casually is good enough,” Conway said. “Father looked into him and saw how successful this guy is. Now I’ve seen how down-to-earth he is. This guy has nothing to hide. He’s clean and kind. That’s all we want, someone who understands you and can make you happy.”
“As much as I appreciate that, you’re still jumping the gun,” I said. “I’m not dating Antonio. We’re just friends. I’m not ready to be in another relationship. I’m not even ready to go on a date.”
“That’s fine,” Conway said. “And it’s obvious this guy likes you enough to be patient with you. But whenever you are ready, he’s got the approval of the whole family, which is something you’ve always wanted in a partner. So…just keep that in mind.”
Twelve
Vanessa
Weeks passed, and during that time, I focused on my painting and running the gallery. Business picked up so much that I considered hiring someone to help me run the business. I would need someone to be there during business hours, to handle sales while I was painting or taking care of other things.
Antonio stopped by sometimes, bringing coffee or asking me to lunch. He never asked me to dinner, tried to come to my apartment, or invited me to his. He took things slow like I wanted, not even touching me.
Without the pressure of romance, it was easier for me to get to know him, to feel comfortable around him when we sat across from each other at lunch or coffee. He always stared at me with a possessive look, like he couldn’t wait until I was finally ready for something more.
He hadn’t tried to hold me again. Last time, it was so intimate and close that it was too much for both of us. It was too much for me because I wasn’t ready for someone new, and it was too much for him because he could hardly restrain himself and keep his promise.
When three months had come and gone, I felt better about the breakup with Bones. I still loved him, would never forget him, but now my chest didn’t hurt all the time. My dreams weren’t always about him. Throughout the day, he wasn’t the only thing on my mind.
It’d been a cruel three months, one of the most difficult periods in my life. I didn’t consider myself to be over him, not yet. But I was definitely better now than I was before. I wasn’t ready to be with Antonio romantically, but I’d started to let him into my heart.
I was about to close the gallery for the day when Antonio walked inside, a large bag gripped in his hand. “Hope you’re hungry. I brought dinner.”
“Ooh…I’m always hungry.” I’d just finished hanging up a new painting, so I wiped my hands on my jeans then turned to him. “What did you get?”
“I made salmon, rice, and broccoli.”
“You made it?” I asked in surprise. “You cook?”
He grinned. “Yep. And I’m pretty good at it.” He pulled out the plastic containers and set everything on the floor. The only surface I had was my desk with my computer, but I only had one chair. So eating in the center of the room was our only choice.
“Wow. I’m impressed.”
“I’m a man of many talents.” He pulled out a bottle of wine and poured two glasses, and he produced two plastic forks.
I sat across from him, the art lights still hitting the paintings. It was bright inside the room compared to the darkness outside. The sun had set, and the buildings blocked any extra light that could have hit the street.
I picked up my fork and dug in. “Wow…this is good.”
“Told ya.” He scooped the food into his mouth, his chiseled jaw working as he chewed. He washed it down with the white wine and then lifted his gaze to me. “I’m glad you like it.”
