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Stuffed full of the life she’d lived, there wasn’t an inch of it that wasn’t interesting, and quite a few of those inches were taken up by her own art.
She was talented, had a point of view she’d never been hesitant in sharing, and even after sustaining a tragic loss when Cadence’s dad, the drummer of the alt-rock band The Pissed-off Hippies, Rollo Merriman, died, she hadn’t let life pass her by.
Hale had always felt captivated and impressed by how interesting she was, as was her life, as depicted by her space.
But this time, entering that living room, he felt a strange pang.
Like something was missing.
Elsa decorated like that, although considering she was twenty years Mika’s junior, her space wasn’t as full nor as big.
But she’d told him last night about how she found her art. Where she’d scored the vintage Fitz and Floyd pinstriped plates and the mismatched wineglasses she had. How her throw pillows were made custom by a neighbor who came into her pad and decided what she needed, then handpicked the antique silk scarves she made them from. Even Elsa’s sofa came from her dad’s best friend’s den, a man she called “Uncle Adam,” and she’d always loved it. So when that room was repurposed, he’d given it to her.
Everything she owned had a story.
Everything had meaning.
Hale had never been a “things” kind of guy.
But he was realizing now he’d also never really had a home.
He owned his dad’s properties, and there were many. He used them often, particularly the house in LA and the apartment in New York. He’d asked Brandi to hire interior designers to redo the penthouse so it was more Hale, more comfortable, warmer, more inviting, not his dad, where the space had been crisp and modern and designed to impress.
He hadn’t touched the house in LA.
He’d approved of their design schemes for the penthouse, but that was all he’d put in it.
He was thirty years old, had buckets of money, but he hadn’t bought that first painting that was something he saw that moved him, so he had to own it.
Chloe, as she would, kicked it off.
“You’ve got some ’splaining to do, big brother.”
Mika temporarily saved him by getting up and giving him a hug before she asked, “Beer?”
“That’d be great,” he answered.
“I’ll get it,” Cadence said, and ran to the hallway to go up the stairs to their kitchen.
Tom came in for a hug and a hearty slap on the back next.
This went all around, and he was settled into an armchair with the beer Cadence brought him, everyone else settled around him, when Chloe prompted, “Well?”
“I’m dating Elsa Cohen.”
“I would hope so,mon frère, considering Sash and I caught you with your hand in her pants. The question is,why?” Chloe demanded.
Everyone was watching him with differing expressions of expectancy, meaning they all wanted an explanation.
And considering their various levels of fame, and that Elsa had reported openly and copiously about all of them, they deserved it.
“Obviously, I like her, and equally obviously, I’m attracted to her.”
“She’s a parasite,” Chloe declared.
Hale’s back got up.
“Honey,” Tom warned.
