Page 144 of Love Is an Art
And finally, there’s a picture of us at the wedding—first laughing, and then staring at each other, our hearts in our eyes. “Dylan sent these to me. I do think we’ll be next.”
She squeezes me tightly. “I love your PowerPoint. It’s much better than my brief.”
“You still have to share.”
She gets up and goes to the closet, where she pulls out a garbage bag. A canvas peeks out. She stands in front of me.
“Are you sure you’re okay after he grabbed you?” I ask. “My heart stopped when I saw that, and I was so far away.”
“I’m okay. More shocked. I’m not hurt.”
I pull her back into my lap. “You’re too far away. It’s good to have a warrior lawyer girlfriend. But I still want to see the brief. I made you business cards too.” I hand her the Tessa Jackowski, Private Investigator business cards. She clutches them to her chest.
She pulls a piece of paper out of the bag while hiding the canvas.
Argument #1: We’re good for each another and we can work, as evidenced by our working together onDalmatians Gone Wild, the Comidas en Canasta investigation, and the Howard investigation.
Argument #2: I LOVE YOU, with a picture of our text exchange with the drawings of a stick figure couple holding hands and a Dalmatian.
Argument #3: Also I LOVE YOU. Underneath it is the photograph of theLove is an artmural we saw in Mexico City of a gray-haired, stooped couple holding hands.
“But in the end, I can’t really make an argument about why we should be together,” she says. “It’s not about logic. It’s about emotion. You have to feel it.”
I kiss her. “I love you.”
“Maybe you should reserve judgment until after you see this.” She reveals the canvas.
Wow.
It is terrible.
Even worse than what she painted at the auction. There is a black blob, and then there are some red hearts and two stick figures holding hands, and another blob below that. Like a crawling snowman. And then lots of splatters of paint.
“I tried to paint another one to express how much I love you, but as you can see, I can’t create it alone. We’re better together.”
“Why is there a crawling snowman?” I ask.
“That’s Brit. And the splatters of paint representDalmatians Gone Wild.”
“Oh.”
“And the black represents my sadness apart.”
“I see.” I nod. “I love it.” I kiss her again. We fall back on the couch, her body underneath me.
“I love you,” I say.
“I love you,” she says.
I brush back a strand of hair from her forehead as she gazes up at me, love shining in her eyes. Her face is now so dear.
Tessa is the one for me. I’m looking forward to a lifetime of adventures with her, although maybe a few less encounters with shady men like Scammer Guy and Howard can be negotiated.
But if not, I’m willing to ask Iris for the name of that self-defense class so I can brush up on my jujitsu skills.
She pulls down my head for another kiss, and I cease thinking about anything else—except for Tessa and me together.
Epilogue - Tessa - Three Weeks Later
