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Approaching the class from behind, I clap my hands together once to get their attention. “How’s everyone doing on their paintings?”
“My rose looks like a turtle, Charlie.” Julian is nine and bright as can be, but painting may not be his forte.
I stand behind him, analyzing the lines and overall picture. “I like the detailing, but it might look like a turtle because of the colors you chose. Close your eyes and imagine your rose in red or orange or yellow instead of green and brown. Doesn’t look like a turtle in those colors.”
“So color matters? Yeah, okay. Maybe I’ll add some red.” He gives me a high-five and a smile. I start to move to the next student, but he stops me. “Charlie?”
“Yes?” I ask, squatting down next to him.
“I’m not really into this painting stuff, but I liked that writing class we did last month.”
“Then you should take the next level. You have a way with words. I think you’re a talented writer.”
“My mom doesn’t have much money—”
“Don’t worry about that. Like the other courses, we’ll cover all of the expenses for you. You just need to promise me that you’ll work hard and show up on time.”
“Deal,” he says. His smile is huge and contagious.
I still can’t believe this is real. Grace would be so proud. Mrs. Lackey would be proud of her matchmaking skills, too. Little did she know that her funeral would make the woman of my dreams a reality.
A little over one year ago, I was worried that Charlie sensed a setup. Not to discount my romantic ways, but a picnic in the middle of the workday felt like a setup even to me. The calm of today makes me laugh, remembering that special afternoon.
I secretly arranged for her to have the rest of the afternoon off from work. How would I know that her department would receive the consignment from a private collector in Maine today?
So Charlie is anxious and a little hesitant to take me up on my lunch offer when I call her that morning. Luckily, I can be persuasive.
I show up a few minutes early and wait downstairs for her.
“Hey, handsome.”
“Hey, pretty girl.” I kiss her, having wanted to do that all morning.
“We’re having a picnic?” She eyes the bag in my hands.
“Yep, seems like a very couple-y thing to do.”
“It’s March and kind of chilly outside for a picnic, don’t you think?”
I take her hand in mine. “We have each other to keep us warm.”
“Aw, I love your sappy side, Charlie,” she says, poking me in the ribs. “But you’re right. We do have each other.” As she leans her head on my shoulder, I wrap my arm around her back, and we start walking west.
“Central Park?”
“No, the library.”
I can see the excitement in her eyes, and she smiles, pleased with this idea.
Two quick subway stops later and we’re there. As we climb the library steps, I move closer to her, just wanting to be near her. My heart beats faster with every step we take, and it’s not from the climb.
“I want to eat over here.” I lead her to the left of the front doors, past Patience the lion to the Beauty fountain.
She stands there looking a little confused, so I start talking. “I need to tell you something, Charlie, and thought this place was right for us.”
“We’re not here for lunch?”
“We are. We’re here for lunch. Are you hungry?” She’s hungry. Of course she is. Maybe I should sort the food out first. No, I can’t. I need to do this, and then we can eat.
“Yes. It is lunchtime.” I know she can tell something’s off with me because she’s wary. I can hear it in her tone.
I kiss her cheek. “I’ll try not to drag this out then.” Dropping the bag to the ground, I climb up on the lowest ledge below the fountain. “I wanted to bring you here because this,” I say, signaling behind me to the lavishly carved marble statue, “is considered the epitome of beauty. But she pales in comparison to you. That first day, that first contact we made on the train, changed me forever. The girl of my dreams ran right into me, and I mistakenly let her go.” I sit down, and she moves closer.
“What are you doing, Charlie?” she asks. Her eyes are equally concerned and thrilled.
I take a deep breath, wanting this to be right, wanting this to be perfect, but I’m not perfect, so I stumble through my unrehearsed speech the best I can. “I made my second huge mistake that night when I let you walk out of that club. I felt the spark with you, the one that people brag about—a pull, an attraction. I knew you were the one, and I let you walk away from me again.” I slip off the ledge and take her hands in mine. “I’m sorry I relied on fate instead of destiny back then.”
