His chuckles settled. "Let me get this straight, Cora. First it's my manners, then my intelligence, and now you're flat-out accusing me of lying?" His laughs came back to life. "You are a wonderfully complicated creature, you know that?"
"I had a hunch." My laugh mingled with my sniffle. I brushed my hand over my nose, then caught the tear that had slipped before it fell over the apple of my cheek. "But… just tell me. One more time. Before I wake up from whatever dream this is."
His sigh was filled with nothing but glee. I knew him well enough now to know that. "Cora, the Nouvelle committee would like for you to have the scholarship."
My eyes squeezed shut, making room for the firework display lighting up in my head. The same show was making my heart beat like someone had sped it up, and before I fell to the floor, I slipped down the door, perching myself on the top step of our porch.
It had been three days since the gala. Three days since I last saw my father. And three days since I was rudely stolen away from the night I'd waited for ever since stepping foot in this city. In a strange twist of fate, the gala suffered a power outage ten minutes before they were supposed to announce the winners. Part of it felt planned, but I didn't really care. All it meant to me was that I didn't miss finding out whether what I'd dreamed about for months was finally mine.
"It's mine." I replied down the phone, turning it into something real.
"All yours, Cora." Patrick repeated, before clearing his throat. "Now we just wanted to make sure that your choice of city for the scholarship was still the same."
I nodded, like he could see me. "It is."
"Wonderful. We'll start with the accommodation arrangements." Something rustled down the line before Patrick's voice was clear again. "And, Cora, before I go, I just wanted to tell you that you really do deserve this."
That silenced me. "Thank you, Patrick."
"I just got the sense that somewhere along this next year you'll try and convince yourself otherwise, and when you do, think back to this for me, okay?"
I felt my dimples deepen and my smile ache, and as my head rested back against the door, my eyes traced the clouds. "I promise."
That conversation happened ten minutes ago, and I was still sitting outside, my back against the door, my head heavy and my face wet from the slow river of tears.
Happy tears had been a rare thing for me. You should have clocked that by now. So I wasn't in any kind of rush to wipe them away, even now, when it was barely 43 degrees. I half wanted them to freeze; they'd serve as a permanent reminder of what today meant.
The Nouvelle Muse scholarship was mine. My paintings were good enough. They held potential. And that was all I'd ever wanted them to show. That I was trying, and I wouldn't stop until I had a life for myself that I truly loved living in.
And I felt that life beginning right now.
"What the hell are you doing out here?"
Once upon a time I was so scared to open my windows. An open window let in the cold, and I was perfectly happy staying warm, and safe. But one day, I decided to open that window.
And the breeze was so gentle.
Marcus was the breeze I didn't know I needed.
My eyes glided down to find him. He was pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head, his white shirt,under his leather jacket, rising just above his ab line on his stomach as he did. His smile made his cheeks pop and his dimples deepen. And when he saw mine, his eyes did that thing that I missed the first couple of times. They widened a fraction. They did every time he was genuinely happy.
And when I caught it happening when he looked at me? I was a goner.
"I'm just appreciating this point of view." I looked around. "It's nice. I might sit out here more often."
He climbed up the steps, his head dropping, face scrunching as he let a laugh slip. Soon his eyes were back on me, right as he offered me a hand and pulled me up until I was standing under him.
"What are you really doing out here?"
I blinked up at him, completely awestruck. "It's mine."
His eyes bounced between mine, a hopeless smile curving."Yes."
"The scholarship."
Somebody pinch me.
"It's mine. I did it, and… it's all mine, Marcus."
