“Nope,” he grates out. “Just the two.”
“I didn’t complete law school,” I say. There. That sounds nicer than “dropped out.” “I chose to get my fine arts degree and pursue art curation. I work in a museum now.”
The man’s eyes light with interest, but Dad cuts him off.
“We would have preferred her finish your program, Stan, of course,” he says, “but this one has a mind of her own, apparently.”
Stan laughs, as if it’s a good natured joke.
Brandon steps beside me, muscles coiled like a panther on the hunt. I smooth my hand down his arm, but he doesn’t relax. Stan blinks up at him in surprise, as if now only noticing the hulking six-foot-four man.
“And what a mind it is.” Brandon’s voice drips with luxury, the sports car of tones. He graces them all with an amicable smile, though I notice the flash of anger deep in his eyes.
“This one is too humble,” Brandon continues, booping me on the nose. “She won’t tell you all about her incredible work at the museum, butIwill.” He chuckles, leaving my parents no choice but to laugh nervously beside Stan.
“She happens to be assisting another curator’s exhibition by photographing murals all over Chicago. The very exhibition, in fact, that Kate supplied the idea for in the first place. Such brilliance in her mere fingertips”—he dares to raise my hand and press a kiss to the pad of my index finger—“that I’m honored to witness it. So yes, Mr. Chen. What a mind of her own.”
Emotion burns behind my eyes, behind my sternum,everywhere.
This man is too good. Too loving. Too incredible to be real.
He’s my other half in every way. The laughter to my cynicism. The light to my darkness, even after struggling through so much on his own. I don’t want to go another day, another week, letting him bear his burdens alone. I want to kiss away the sorrows of the boy inside that feels like he’s not worthy of love. Not worthy enough for his dad to stay, or for his mother to remain sober.
I’m desperate to be the one who gets to convince him that he is enough.
And here, in the glow of his emerald gaze, I’m starting to believe that my brokenness could maybe be enough for him, too.
Heart pounding, I stare at him as the room melts away.
Decision rushes through my veins. Finality sings in my chest.
I’m never letting this man go ever again.
Liza coughs a sniff, hand pressed to her chest, stars in her eyes.
“What an interesting life you have made for yourself, young lady,” Stan says after a long moment. “I hope all goes well with your exhibition. I must make it a point to tell my aunt—she lives in Chicago, you see—to come experience it.”
We thank Stan, ignore my parents’ murderous stares, and excuse ourselves with a cheery goodbye before finally making our escape.
The warm night sky is slung low with heavy clouds, smothering any twinkle of stars. I can’t tell if the electrical charge in the air is radiating from my own epiphany or an impending lightning storm. Either way, Brandon’s hand wraps warmly around mine as he helps me behind him onto the rental motorcycle. He ducks beneath his helmet, and I tug on my own before curving my jackhammer of a heart against his back.
The salty air soon whips the ends of my hair behind us, and tiny flecks of rain dot my helmet visor. Droplets pepper my upper arms and chest, and I begin to shiver despite the warm rain.
I think I’m in love with this man.
Re-in love with this man?
Words don’t make any more sense in my head than my thoughts do.
I bite my lip. This wasn’t supposed to happen, but maybe now that it has, I’ll be forced to deal with it. Perhaps I’ll have to push through my fears, and instead of running from this terrifying,exhilaratingfeeling, I’ll have to rise to the occasion in my imperfectness.
If I want something I’ve never had, I’ve got to do something I’ve never done.
The tiny raindrops begin to band together into fat ones as we pull into the sheen-slicked driveway. Brandon kills the engine, and he stabilizes the bike while I hop off. I yank off my helmet and stand beside him. The first drips of rain meet my hairline, but I don’t care. My indigo silk dress is already slicked to my body, the ends of my hairsaturated, but I still don’t care. I’m bursting with all-consuming gratitude, and I can’t go another second without expressing it.
Brandon’s still perched atop the bike, pulling off his helmet to reveal his quizzical expression. Rain peppers his face.
“Kate, you don’t have to wait for me to get the bike in the garage. Save yourself and go get warm.”
