Page 21 of Partnering with the Artist

Whimsical.

Out of place in even this illustrious setting filled with elegance, grace, and beauty.

She puts the entire universe to shame, of that I am certain.

“Have you come here before?” she asks me.

I maintain my smile. “No.” I don’t go out much, if I can help it. It’s less exhausting to stay home where I’m allowed to pout whenever the urge consumes me. Which is often. “Crisis recommended it.”

“Crisis. That’s…Viktor’s fiancée, right?”

“That’s correct.” Ever since she and Viktor got engaged, she’s been around at awkward times, but given her unique gravity and Maelin’s tendency to go flying over her own feet, I’m grateful she’s not been entirely present this past week. One day, inevitably, they will collide.

I just hope they both survive the encounter.

“Right. Yes,” Maelin says. “You’ve mentioned her before. Sorry. It takes me a minute to remember names and people and how they fit together. Things I can’t see in front of me feel like shadows sometimes. Vague ideas. Distant memories that are more familiar sensations than actual recollections.” She wets her soft red lips, pulling the fuller bottom one between her teeth as she lets her gaze wander in the room. “Am I…talking too much? Harry used to say I never shut up. I’m recognizing that was a redflag now, but I do ramble when I’m nervous.”

Harry saidwhatto my goddess? Hm. I think I need a body bag for Harry. “Rambling is adorable and endearing. Anyone who would deter you from it is a fool. I like listening to your thoughts. I wish you’d talk more, then whenever you drift off into your head, I could follow you there into worlds unknown.”

Heat flares in her cheeks, drawing inspiration shades from her perfect, perfect apple-red mouth. Pale lashes fluttering like tiny white butterflies, she whispers, “You…are very good with words.”

“Yes, well.” I draw a finger around the base of my overturned cup. “It comes with the territory of being a writer, I suppose.”

“Do you like being a writer and making comics?”

“It’s a far better alternative than my parents’ initial plans for me. They wanted me presenting at galleries, doing shows, becoming a traditional master of thearts. Thankfully, with Viktor’s help, we were able to convince them that there was a higher demand and larger audience for graphic novels. I could be known in small, elite circles—which, given our social placement, I would already be known in—or I could expand my reach to the general public.” My eyes close, but I manage to keep all bite from my tone given the stray customers around. “My parents were very much obsessed with the idea of stardom. Elite members of society rarely worship and scream in the presence of their equals, but the peasants certainly take appropriately to their betters. And they enjoyed that.”

Maelin watches me, glass eyes indecipherable. At last, she asks, “Am…I a peasant?”

I turn my cup over. “Naturally. That’s why I keep calling youprincess.” Andangelandgoddess. What a silly angel, princess, goddess thing to say. How humble. How pure.

Her shining character precedes her continually.

Bless.

Our waitress reaches our table with a tea warmer and a lighter. “Your tea will be right out, Mr. Bachelor. Have you decided what you’d like to order for your meal?”

“My future sister says the grilled cheese is a special treat. I think I’ll have that on sunflower bread, with a side of mashed potatoes, gravy on the side. Oh. Hold the tomato. I can’t stand tomatoes. Or onions. I don’t know if there are onions, but if there are any onions in my meal, I will have to send it back.” I shift my attention to my companion. “Have you made your decision yet, baby?”

Maelin’s eyes widen on her menu, flick up to me, then back down. “U-um. Yes,” she squeaks. “I’ll have the same. But with a side of…” Her eyes work, dashing. “…soup? What’s the soup today?”

“Minestrone.”

Her sweet nose scrunches. She pours her attention back into the menu. “Um.”

She’ssocute. Her littleums have me metaphorically on my knees for her. Whoever heard of a goddess with poor public-speaking skills? Overturning expectations at every juncture. Relatable queen.

She fixes her perfect eyes on our waitress. “Is it possible to get a smaller portion of the vegetable quiche as a side?”

“Absolutely, miss. We’ll do anything for a special guest of Mr. Bachelor’s. Did you also not want the tomato on your sandwich?”

“Yes, that’s right. I also don’t like tomatoes. Thank you so much.”

I can’t stop warmth from overtaking my smile. “We’ll have the whole quiche. I don’t want you to split an order on my account. I’ll finish whatever she doesn’t want, assuming there aren’t any onions in it. I almost asked about it, so I’m a big fan of the excuse to try some, too.”

“Perfect. I don’t think there’s onions in the vegetarian quiche today, but I will make sure of that.” Our waitress beams. “I’ll get this put in and be right back with your tea.”

Once she’s left, Maelin frees a breath. “Sorry…”

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