Page 84 of Play On

“Can the painting be fixed?”

I regroup. “Yes, it can. Now, my dad isn’t in the mood to approve this restoration right now, but I made sure Nicholas added it to the list of things that need to be done. With an oldestate like this, that list never ends. It’s never complete, and it grows every day. Like in this room alone, we have paintings that need to be restored, plaster that needs to be retouched, and there’s bound to be a leak in here soon. Leaks are the bane of our existence.”

Noah shakes his head. “I never thought about how much work goes into keeping these homes in good shape.”

“It’s a lot of work and a lot of money. That’s why tourism and events are so important. That’s how we keep the estate afloat.”

“I could see you as the art expert here one day,” Noah says, shifting his attention back to Lady Lily.

“This estate will be Nicholas’s to run. But I’d be happy to help him in any way that I could. Like if I could take paintings and textiles off his plate, that would be a huge help.”

“Textiles?” Noah asks, a cute crease appearing at the bridge of his nose.

I tap that crease with my fingertip. “Yes, textiles. But I’ll explain more on that later. I’m not finished talking about this painting yet.”

Noah’s eyes light up. “Oh sorry. Go on.”

“Do you see that book in the painting?” I ask, gesturing towards it. “That tan book?”

He nods. “Yes.”

“That’s not any book she’s holding, Noah. It’s the mythology book I told you about.”

His eyes immediately connect with mine.

“That’s the book. She’s holding a mythology book next to the Cupid fountain. In the same place where you and I talked about our mutual love of it.”

A silence falls between us as he digests that.

“Whoa,” he finally says.

“I know. It’s … kind of like a sign. Kind of like what you said about your dad.”

His hand reaches for mine, our fingers instinctively entwining together. “Maybe Lady Lily had something to do with it, too.”

“I like that idea.”

“I do, too.”

“Noah?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for forgiving me for being an idiot,” I say softly.

“Butterfly?”

Swoon. “Yes?”

“I don’t ever want to hear you call yourself an idiot ever again. Or a flake, or unreliable, or any of the other words you inflict upon yourself. You aren’t any of those things. Not to me.”

I stare up at him. Noah’s eyes are unrelenting upon mine, willing me to not only hear what he is saying, but take it to heart, too.

“Thank you,” I say quietly, “for helping me see myself in a different way.”

“I will always do that for you, Violet. Especially after the gift you gave me last night.”

A gift.

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