“We’ve been apart more than together,” I say carefully. “We’re both still learning how to love each other in the way we need. And yes, we’ve broken each other’s trust, more than once, but I believe we’ll get there. It’s just going to take time.”
Paolo watches me for a long time.
“So you’ve decided,” he says quietly. “To be with him?”
“I have.” I see the disappointment flash across his face. “I think it was always going to be him, Paolo.”
He nods, but the air shifts between us.
After a long pause, he asks, “Have you decided where you’re going for your exploration trip this weekend?”
Giovanna assigned everyone in the program the task to pick a destination in Italy to visit for artistic inspiration. Most of the places I could think of were ones I’d imagined seeing with Gabriel, but after spending three weeks thinking about nothing else except for him, I know I need to go somewhere where I can focus on myself instead.
“Pisa,” I say.
“For the whole weekend?” His brows lift. “Lea, Pisa is somewhere you only go for half a day.”
“Oh.” I did not know that.
Paolo sighs, sets down his pencil, and moves to sit on a stool in front of me. I drop my pose and straighten.
“What do you like to do?” he asks. “Back home?”
“Surfing,” I answer. Even if it felt more like a career than a hobby.
He snaps his fingers. “Then why not visit one of our surf towns?”
I blink. “Italy has surf towns?”
He rolls his eyes and pulls out his phone, typing away before he turns it toward me to show a beautiful sunny, sandy beach where surfers cut through the water.
“Where is this?”
“Varazze,” he replies. “It’s about three hours from here, but it’s the perfect weekend trip. Much better than Pisa.”
I grin, already reconsidering my train ticket.
“That’s actually a great idea. I’ll think about it.”
He nods then stands. “Want to see?”
“You finished?” I frown. “I didn’t even see you use paint.”
He chuckles and turns the easel toward me. “I used charcoal for this one.”
I’m usually drawn to colour, but I can’t deny that it’s stunning. It looks moody and alive. Paolo is incredibly talented.
“There’s something I wanted to ask you,” he says, carefully.
I raise a brow. “And that is?”
He walks to the far wall and flips around several canvases, eleven in total. All of me in different poses, different expressions, a mix of charcoal, and some with paint. My breath catches as I take them all in. Some of them look similar to the rough sketches I saw in his book weeks ago, and I wonder if he used those tocreate them while I was blowing off our sessions. Has he just been locked away in this studio working away?
“Wow,” I whisper, staring at all the different versions of me. “They’re beautiful.”
“Giovanna has asked me to submit pieces for her upcoming gallery,” he says. “These are the best work I've done in months, maybe years. I was hoping you’d be okay with me submitting them.”
I stare at him stunned. “You want your submissions to be of me?”
