Page 69 of This is a Kissing Book

He stares at me, speaking slowly. “Borrow. The. Painting.”

“Temporarily. Just long enough to examine it properly, maybe do some non-destructive analysis to see what’s underneath.”

“Jules, that’s not borrowing. That’s theft.”

The reality of being my father’s daughter rears its head, feeling like a tattoo that was an impulsive, ill-advised idea—at some point, someone will see it. “It’s research! I’ll return it as soon as I’m done.”

“How exactly do you propose we ‘borrow’ a painting from a secured gallery?”

“I have an idea. But considering your reaction, you may not like it.”

“Try me.”

I clear my throat. “I could … make a copy. Replace the original temporarily while I examine it so as not to arouse any suspicion. Then switch them back.”

He looks at me like I’ve suggested we steal the crown jewels. “You want to forge a painting?”

“Not forge. Copy. For research purposes.”

“That’s still forgery!”

“Only if we get caught.”

We stare at each other for a long moment, the weight of what I’m suggesting like a fuse burning between us.

I play my ace. “You said you wanted to find those letters.”

He closes his eyes briefly as if witnessing his internal battle. Finally, he sighs. “For the record, I don’t like this plan.”

“Is that a yes?”

“That’s a ‘I can’t believe I’m even considering this.’”

“I’ll take it.”

The dawning sky fills in the darkness with misty gray, pale purple, and powder blue as Chicago wakes up. I can’t shake the feeling that we’re part of a romantic sunrise painting.

But when I glance at Linc and see the determined set of his jaw, I realize maybe this is exactly what needed to happen to shake us out of our joint stupor of hatred.

He seems slightly upset, but instead of driving to my apartment, he parks outside a doughnut shop.

“What are we doing here?” I ask, imagining this is the first place he could think of to get coffee.

“It’s your birthday.”

I rub my eyes. “I haven’t pulled an all-nighter in—” I interrupt myself. “What?”

“It’s your birthday. I may have succeeded at finding a piano in the middle of the night, but I wasn’t sure where to find cake at this hour. If you think about it, a doughnut is like fried cake.”

I’m touched and my glowy Care Bear heart beams. The softness in his expression tells me he doesn’t want this night to end either.

26

LINC

Everyone is familiar with the saying, “It’s always darkest before dawn.” What they don’t mention is that it’s always coldest before dawn, too. Yes, even during the summer.

Jules rubs her bare arms as the warmth of the doughnut shop envelops us, along with the smell of freshly fried dough and coffee. We order an assortment of glazed, chocolate, and a “birthday cake doughnut” with colorful sprinkles that she insists I need to try, even though it’s her special day.