“What the fuck?”
There used to be a brown, black, and white abstract artwork hanging on that wall.
My wife sashayed to my side, a serene look on her face. It reminded me of the morning after our wedding.
“Do you like it?”
“What happened to the painting on the wall?”
“That boring thing?” Lucy said, unimpressed.
“That boring thing,” I gritted, “was one of the last works of Katsumo Oda.”
“I don’t know him.” Worry etched her face, but my temper was getting the better of me. “Uh, is he famous?”
“Where is it?” I asked softly.
“I had Sato move it to the basement.”
“Lusenka,” I said in my most patient voice. “The basement doesn’t have the proper controlled environment for a two-million-dollar artwork.”
Her face paled, and I immediately regretted my harshness.
“It’s two million,” she whispered.
“When I bought it five years ago. I’m sure the price skyrocketed after his death.”
“I’ll have Sato put it back,” she said.
“Thank you.” But apparently, my wife wasn’t done.
I passed the living room, and it was like someone had vomited multicolored confetti all over it. She replaced the leather furniture with orange and yellow pieces and multicolored striped throw pillows.
“You don’t like it?” she asked from behind me. Her voice was small, and I wished I could conjure up the right emotion and not make her feel like she’d done wrong. I’d already been harsh with the yellow monstrosity in the foyer.
“I’m trying to decide,” I breathed. Fucking hell, my wife had great taste in clothes, but I should have listened when she said she wanted to leave the domestic side to Sorcha.
“You have all-leather furniture in the house. Everything is brown and sterile.”
“I like the minimalist and clean look.”
“It’s boring.”
“And that’s not hideous?” I pointed at the striped pillow.
“Well, at least it has a more pleasant personality than you!” she fired back and flounced off.
I breathed a heavy sigh and turned around.
Sorcha stood there, wringing her apron, with a pensive look on her face.
“What?”
“Miss Lucy, er, needs some guidance with home decorating.”
“I can see that.”
“Maybe gently suggest she hire an interior designer.”
