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“No, not at all. Not hardly ever,” he said. “And you? Way too much.”
“I’m too serious?” she asked, pressing her fingertips to her chest.
“Laugh more and you’ll live more,” he said, clasping his hands together before he did a two-step.
“Trust me, I laugh,” she said. “Just not with you.”
“Let’s change that,” he said, extending his hands once more.
Desdemona stared at him, ever aware of the way her heart pounded in surprise. With Loren Palmer, the monotony had been broken. “How are you able to be so happy all the time?” she asked.
“I am forever thankful for the lessons and the blessings,” he said with a carefree shrug. “The lessons are in the lows and the blessings in the highs. Both are necessary. Both serve a purpose.”
“Find the good in everything?” she asked.
He nodded.
“You’re young and idealistic,” she said.
“Good word usage,” Loren said.
Desdemona tilted her head to the side and eyed him. “Really?” she asked, unable to stop her chuckle.
“What?” he asked. “That’s my job.”
“I knew the word ‘idealistic’ before I met you,” she countered.
He bit his bottom lip, causing the soft flesh to dimple, as he looked away from her for a few moments and then returned his attention to her.
“Yes?” she asked.
“The person who talks to me and the person who struggles to grapple with reading and algebra are not the same,” Loren said. “I would never guess by looking at you and talking to you that . . .”
“That I’m ignorant?” she asked, her voice soft as she eyed him.
“No,” he asserted firmly. “You’re not ignorant. Just unschooled.”
Desdemona gave him a soft smile. “I am an observer. A mimic in a way. I have learned over the years to do and say the right things, but I’m tired of the façade. The pretense. I want to truly be everything I appear to be.”
Loren walked over to the board and reclaimed the marker before turning to look over at her, his eyes reflective. “So how do you feel?” he asked.
“Hopeful,” she said, feeling joy that spread a smile across her face and a warmth across her chest as she looked away from his approving eyes and down at her studies.
* * *
Desdemona covered her mouth with the back of her hand as she yawned while answering some sample social studies questions Loren had given her to complete.
“We need a change of view.”
She looked over to Loren standing before her windows with his hands in the pockets of his slim distressed jeans, which he wore with a vintage basketball jersey.
“People pay a high price for that view,” she said, reaching for her glass of wine to sip before setting it back on the coffee table.
“Does this place have a gym?” he asked, turning to face her.
“Yes.”
“I think ten minutes of cardio will shake things up.”
