Page 105 of Love Is an Art
Tessa would not cheat on someone.
Tessa would not play around with someone’s heart.
“That’s why this case is so important to you.” I sip my wine.
“Exactly.”
“Did your friend become a lawyer?”
“No. She became a doctor. Because maybe better medical care would have saved her dad.” She eats some more. “Do you like the curry leek meatballs?”
“They’re delicious.”
“Even though they look a strange green?”
“Healthy.”
She chuckles. “The fennel with radicchio is more bitter than I expected.”
“I thought it would have more of a licorice flavor. Maybe I messed it up.”
She takes another bite. “Hmm. It still tastes good.”
We finish dinner, and then I suggest we eat dessert after we walk Brit.
The minute “walk” leaves my mouth, Brit barks and spins around excitedly. She barks again, her front paws forward, her body down, as if to say hurry up.
Brit leads us down the stairs and out. The night air is warm and balmy as we amble along in comfortable silence with Brit on Central Park West. Brit sniffs all her favorite spots.I don’t want the day to end.
Tessa says, “I plan to eventually get a job working for FLAFL, once I pay off my law school loans. I think.”
“But you’re a really good corporate lawyer.”
“And I’ll be good at that too.” She leans in. “You have to promise not to mention that I’m considering quitting White & Gilman for FLAFL. That’s top secret. I don’t want that to get out and scuttle my chances of getting the extra bonus because they think I’m leaving.”
“My lips are sealed.” I turn around to return to my apartment. I almost reach for her hand but stop.
Tessa carries the rest of the dishes to my kitchen sink. I barely recognize my kitchen with all the pots and bowls we used to make dinner piled up—a sharp contrast to its usual pristine, unlived-in condition.
“I’ll do them,” I say. “Since you wanted to name our fake app No Dishwashing Required.”
“Good memory.” Tessa grins at me. “I’ll dry.”
We stand side by side, and I focus on cleaning the plates with the soapy dishcloth.
I’m done resisting.
I hand her the last dish. She dries it and places it back on the shelf. And then I wash my hands and flick her with soapy water.
“Hey.”
I take a step closer. “I want to give us another chance.”
She holds my gaze and steps closer to me. “Yes.”
I reach out and caress her neck, my thumb lightly outlining her chin, and then as I fan my hand through her hair, I lean in to kiss her. She meets me, her lips parted.
Chapter thirty-three
