“It’s a good idea if it weren’t you doing it,” I teased.
She gave me a playful smack on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go.” She took my arm in hers, leading us into the building. Reaching the elevator, my pocket vibrated again. I pulled my phone out. Bee let go of me, moving to the button panel.
Sybil:Vanilla latte.
I smiled again.
“Oh gawd,Boy,” Bee scoffed.
I glanced up, seeing she’d caught me grinning again. I didn’t reward her with a reaction.
“You are so far gone,” she added.
I tapped out a quick reply.
Me:Solid choice. ??
CHAPTER 13
Sybil
That afternoon, I sat in the library with Dr. Cat. She had her therapist hat on today.
I’d made her a cup of green tea, and she was trying to get comfortable in one of my two round oversized reading chairs but was failing famously. The chair almost swallowed her, designed so someone could fall into a story and stay there—not designed for someone trying to be elegant and sip tea.
Both chairs sat diagonally facing each other and the floor-to-ceiling shelves beyond, with the windows behind us. My studio on the other side of the room was still a mess despite my efforts to clean it. There were rags and paper towels thrown about. I’d slid the doors closed to avoid her assessing gaze.
She’d settled in with a sigh of success. “Well. I’m happy and proud that you messaged him back, Sybil.”
I’d dutifully filled her in on Bill’s new best friend, and thefact I reciprocated. I was eager to hear her praise of the matter. As expected, Cat was pleased.
She went on, “I think starting a text chat with him is the right approach. It’s the perfect transition into whatever comes next. I always enjoyed penning letters; writing allowed me to say and accomplish so much. This is a great opportunity for you to do the same and open up a little—get comfortable with him.”
I nodded. “And when he wants to hang out?”
She shrugged. “We’ll get there when we get there. I think for now, talking over text is enough. We can explore further when we meet next Friday and plan your next step.”
I liked that. It felt like a challenge I could handle.
Cat set her cup down, reaching for a book on my coffee table that I’d left open. She assessed the cover, which included a very handsome Montana cowboy and an exquisite, scantily dressed, buxom brunette leaning over him on a bar sipping bourbon. He was looking at her ample cleavage with a hungry gaze.
Cat’s brows rose, but she didn’t comment on the cover. “Separately, I think it’s important to maintain your identity with PERL. I wouldn’t share that with him at any point short of a marriage proposal. We should keep that a secret for the sake of the brand, so to speak.”
I choked on my tea at the word ‘marriage’.
Cat turned the book over to the page I was on, reading for a moment as her brows arched impossibly high. Fanning herself, she set the book back down, taking up her tea again.
She took a moment to gather herself and recover. Knowingthe scene she’d walked into—since I’d read and reread it myself last night—I could guess what she saw was pretty intense, especially for her.
She cleared her throat. “I realize that keeping a secret seems counterintuitive in our journey to get you out in the world, but in this case, I believe it’s become an important part of the PERL identity. The reclusive unknown artist aspect of your art is alluring.”
I was nodding. “I agree. So, how do I keep Nash from noticing I’m colorblind? It’s easy to mess that up; he will eventually find out.”
She tilted her head from side to side. “You’re a smart girl, Sybbie. I’m confident in your ability to find smart ways to hide it. I don’t stumble upon colorblind people every day, despite its commonality. However—”
“He was at my show, and seems to know PERL,” I filled in helpfully. “It wouldn’t take a genius to put my involvement in PERL together with my colorblindness and come up with an answer.”
She nodded. “Yes, quite right. So just tell him your friend made you go, like it wasn’t your idea and you don’t enjoy it. That fits considering you never look like you’re enjoying yourself.”
