Page 53 of Partnering with the Artist

I manage a deep breath. “I want a relationship built on trust and support. I don’t need flowery notions or feelings. Are you offering that?”

Something in him brightens, and he closes a foot of distance between us. “Yes. I am.”

“Just to make sure I’m following, you’re offering commitment, regardless of how you feel, with the understanding that exploring this might cause me to feel something you neverwill?”

“Essentially, yes. There are parts of your character that I value well enough to want to keep you in my life, so while others have allegedly fallen for me before, I bore no compulsion to hold onto them. I enjoy your creativity. I find you amusing. I like to paint you. You enhance my quality of life. I appreciate your existence, so I would like the opportunity to keep it near mine.”

I appreciate being appreciated. “So, if I agree, we won’t be fake dating anymore? We’d berealdating?”

“Were we ever really fake dating, or were we just getting to know each other with a loose intention to present ourselves as a couple in front of your ex in the hope he might throw a fit? As far as I can tell, we have been real spending time together in order to fake the appearance of a relationship with romantic entanglements come the Creator’s Ball. Real spending time together seems a whole lot like dating. For realsies.”

That…is true enough. I fiddle with the lace at my waistline. “There’s a good chance I don’t actually understand relationships as well as I probably should.”

“Excellent.” He warms, smile losing some hesitation. “Neither do I.”

A soft laugh escapes me. “So. We’re in a romantic relationship now?”

“If that’s all right with you.”

I nod. “It…is, yes. To what end, exactly?”

“Marriage, if you find me tolerable enough to pursue permanent relations after a time.”

That issodiplomatic.

It is not lost on me, though, that he’s offering the commitment I once begged for, upfront, without a fight.

I like this.

Quite a lot.

It feels so much safer than whatever I was doing before.

Breathing steadily easier, I say, “Okay. I’ll make a point of keeping that in mind going forward.”

Beaming now, Zakery reaches me and takes my hand in his. “Should I secure an engagement ring? Or is that much too hopeful?”

“You probably should at least wait until you can meet my parents and ask for my father’s blessing before you buy any rings.”

His smile dissipates. “Is that mandatory?”

“Um. Yes.”

He cusses, running his thumb over my knuckles. “And if they don’t like me?”

“Zakery.” I cup his cheek with my free hand. “Harry scammed them into liking him. You’ll be fine.”

“I’m less of a weasel, though,” he snips. “They’ll ask about my work, and I’ll admit to what I do. They’ll ask to see my latest piece, and since all my latest pieces are of you, I’ll be forced to show them an abomination. They’ll cast me into the streets for failing to capture your beauty.”

They’ll think it’s amazing and romantic.

Zakery sucks in a sharp breath. “My tattoos. They’ll hate my tattoos. They’ll think you’re with some thug.”

“My dad has a tattoo.”

“Parents…are allowed to have tattoos?”

“Um. Yes. Last I checked.”

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