Page 41 of Love Is an Art

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“Two years.”

“That’s … a long time. Much longer than I’ve ever dated anyone. It must have been serious.”

I shrug and look away.Yes.I don’t want to talk about my ex.

“What’s a priority for you in a relationship?” she asks.

“Loyalty,” I say without hesitating. “I need to know someone has my back and I can trust them.”

Her eyes widen.

“What about you?” I ask.

She purses her lips as she takes her time considering my question. “Loyalty, of course, but also understanding. Someone who understands me and supports me.”

I nod.

We both dig into our dishes, and there’s a comfortable silence as we savor our dinner.

“Yummy,” she says.

“So have you been painting for long?”

“I started painting in kindergarten.”

“As one does,” I say.

She smiles at me.

The air is balmy, and everyone sitting around appears to be enjoying the night out, excited for summer weather to begin.

“Do you usually date artists?” I ask.

“No,” she says. “I’m not hung up on occupation. Why? Do you only date artists?”

“No.”

“I would think people in finance would tend to date other people in finance … or maybe lawyers,” she says.

“I dated a lawyer once.” I frown.

“And never again?”

“Something like that.”

“But it’s not like all lawyers are the same.”

“Are you trying to persuade me to date a lawyer?” I ask, my eyebrow raised. “Is that in your interest?”

“I have a lot of lawyer friends,” she says weakly.

I slurp the last of my ramen. “What made you want to be an artist?”

“It wasn’t so much a want, as a calling. But I have a long way to go. I look at this as a marathon.”

“I hope you’re not going to give up.”

“Because my painting was so terrible?” she asks.

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