He listened with interest as she talked about “cutting away what didn’t belong” and “revealing the essence” and “allowing what it wanted to become to guide the way.”
“I’m glad it’s coming along well. I think you’re a brilliant artist,” he said honestly. “Since you won’t let me buy the Emiline piece, please let me buy the goblet.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“It will go to the person who’s destined to have it.”
“Whatever the destined person is paying, I’ll pay twice that.”
“No!”
“Fine. Triple, then.”
She laughed. “No. I need a certain amount of money to support myself, but I’m not driven to amass more than that.”
“Are you driven by sentiment? The cosmic goblet is the piece you’ve been working on since I met you, so it’s our piece. I’m the person who’s destined to have it.”
“Jeremiah.” She paused her eating. “You are not getting your way in this. In fact, if you could accept that you aren’t going to get your way in general—in so many areas—you’d be much less of a handful.”
“I’m sure that’s true.”
Daintily, she set aside her fork and dabbed her lips with her napkin. She rested against her chair’s back and considered him.
“What?” he asked.
“I'm wondering if having you for a neighbor is going to derail me.”
“Please explain.”
“I came home because I wanted to return to work. But Ialsocame home to put distance between us. Your arrival removes that distance.”
The statement sliced him like a small, sharp blade. “Why do you want to put distance between us?”
“So many reasons.”
“List them all and I’ll try to keep track.”
“You are too . . . much for me. I thrive on simplicity and privacy. But there’s none of that to be had in your orbit.”
Before her rape, she’d lived in a big city, had a life filled with relationships and people. But after one of those people betrayed her and the courts yanked away her hope for justice, she’d fled here. If he had to guess, he’d say her art, plus the simplicity and privacy of her life, were crutches. They didn’t actually bring her security any more than did the fame and success and money crutches he’d clearly pursued in the past.
“Also,” she said, “and this is embarrassing . . . I’m becoming very, um,drawnto you physically. At this point, it’s hard to be in the same room with you.”
“I feel the same.”
“But physical attraction is a minefield for me. You’re setting off mines left and right. Every day since our kiss, I’ve had to face one awful memory of Gavin or another. I realize that’s in part because I probably pushed those memories down. Facing them will likely prove healthy in the long run. Even so, you . . .” She sighed, looking conflicted. “You make me want more kisses and my judgment's telling me that might be safe but I'm afraid it's not. Because there’s no way this thing between us will lead to a happy ending—”
“Try me and see.”
“—So then I doubt my judgment.”
It was hard for him to contain the protectiveness and tenderness he felt toward her. “If your judgment’s telling you it would be safe to kiss me, your judgment’s right.”
“My judgment told me it was safe to kiss Gavin.”
“It wasn’t your judgment that failed you that night, Remy. It was him. Only him. If I’d been dating a woman, invited her into my home, and kissed her, it would not be my judgment’s fault if she then physically attacked me. She'd be at fault. That’s it.”
