Page 83 of If My Wishes Came True
It’s not like I’ve been having crazy hot sex with your niece’s former fiancé, or anything. And I’m definitely not madly in lovewith him, if that’s what you’re wondering.
Marie frowns. “Have you thought about whether you’d like to contribute one of your paintings to my friend’s art show? I need to give her an answer soon.”
I sigh. “I’m so sorry, Marie. I thought I had a piece picked out, but…now I’m not so sure.” I can’t possibly show Marie Charlie’s portrait, now. I’m sure she’ll recognize him.
“You need an unbiased eye,” she says. “Let me help you. What are you doing after class? I can come over.”
I nearly drop my paintbrush. “Oh! Um, you mean…today?”
She raises her eyebrow again and nods. I bet she thinks I’m hungover, or hopped up on caffeine, or both. I guess that’s better than her knowing the truth. The thing is, I’d love her opinion on the other pieces in my collection.
I guess I could tell her I need a minute to set up, then run into my studio and cover Charlie’s painting with a sheet—just like I did before he came over. He didn’t suspect a thing.
My heart stings thinking about him.
“Of course,” I finally say. “Thanks. I could use your help.”
“Very good,” Marie answers. Before she turns away, she places a tender hand on my shoulder, and it’s all I can do not to burst into tears.
I thought I was done bottling up my feelings like this. I guess all I can do right now is channel my emotions onto this canvas. We’re working on still lifes today, which is not ideal. But I have to say, by the end of class, the bowl of fruit I painted does look a little sad.
Tati Marie follows me back to my place in her car, and it isn’tuntil we’re in the elevator that it dawns on me there’s a chance we might run into Charlie.
My palms start sweating. How did I not think of this before? I should have sent a message to warn him. It’s too late now, because I’m not getting cell reception in the elevator. But even if Charlie’s standing there when the doors open, he’d have the wherewithal to pretend he doesn’t know me, right?
“Do you have fresh ginger?” Marie says as we’re approaching the twentieth floor.
Again, her words startle me, and I nearly jump out of my skin. “Um…ginger? I don’t think so. Why?”
Marie squints at me. “I think you’re coming down with something. I want to make you tea.”
The doors open, and my eyes go wide, fully prepared to see the man I love standing in front of me and Tati Marie.
But no one’s there.
I heave a sigh of relief and smile at my art teacher. “Oh, I’m fine, thank you. It’s just my period. I get mind-numbing cramps.”
She nods, seeming satisfied with my answer.
I lead her down the hallway, toward my apartment. But as I’m about to put the key in the lock, I hear a creak.
I know that creak.
It’s Charlie’s door.
I spin around. “Oh my god, Tati Marie!” I squeal, hoping I’m loud enough to keep Charlie from leaving his apartment.
Marie’s brow furrows, but she remains even-keeled. “What’s the matter, Jenna?”
Luckily, my boyfriend’s door stops mid-creak, then closesagain. He must have heard me—thank god.
“I’m so sorry, Marie. I just saw, um, a giant bee. But don’t worry, it’s gone now.” It’s a terrible lie, considering we’re in the windowless hallway of a concrete skyscraper. But improv isn’t my forte—I’m no Dex Oliver.
When we’re in my apartment, I pour her a glass of wine and invite her to sit at the kitchen island while I set up my collection. I debate taking Charlie’s painting out of my studio and hiding it in my bedroom, but my place is open concept, and I’m afraid Marie will ask me what I’m doing. Then I consider stuffing the portrait into the small closet in the corner of the room, but it’s already full of art supplies, and I’m afraid it’ll get ruined by a rogue can of paint thinner, or something. I’d be devastated.
So I move the painting away from the others and cover it with a sheet again. But when I walk out of the room to get Tati Marie, she’s busy at my kitchen counter—mixing a whiskey drink, judging by the bottle of Jim Beam I forgot all about—with freshly squeezed lime juice and honey.
“I’m sorry, Marie. I would have offered you whiskey if I remembered I had some.”
