“There are a couple of other artists who want to buy the gallery,” Ethan said.
“Oh no. Not Misty or the Gearheads!” Zoe couldn’t say their names and keep a straight face.
“Maybe I could work with Misty, but if the Gear-heads took it over, I couldn’t leave my work in there.”
“They wouldn’t want you to.”
“You’re probably right.”
He twisted so he faced her. “What do you think I should do?”
“Sell the work you’re collecting in your studio online.”
“Well, that was a fast decision,” he said, sounding unhappy.
“Maybe it was a fast decision, but it’s something I’ve been thinking about for a long time,” Zoe admitted.
Ethan pushed his fingers through his hair. “I just can’t...”
She elbowed him. “Stop being such a snob.”
“I’m not a snob. I’m a—”
“Perfectionist,” she finished his sentence for him. “You’re unwilling to share your work unless it’s met your stamp of approval.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“It’s sort of selfish.” She paused. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
He hitched an eyebrow.
She took a deep breath, wondering how this conversation would go. “Mrs. Lickel, your mysterious landlord?”
He waited.
“She’s my grandmother.”
He stared at her blankly and dropped her hand.
Zoe waved around the room. “This is my family home.”
He blinked and climbed off the sofa. “And yet you let me pay for the basement renovations?”
She leaned away from him. “It was your idea.”
He stalked to the window, turned his back to her, and gazed out at the night sky. “I gave up the chance of the gallery so you could have another apartment?”
Zoe drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. “I didn’t ask you to renovate the basement.”
Turning, he studied her with dark, unreadable eyes.
“I better go,” he said after a long moment. “It’s been a crazy day, and we’re both tired.” But he didn’t go.
“Ethan...” she began.
“I thought we had something,” he said.
She took note of the past tense article and tried to correct it. “I think so, too.”
