Page 60 of Broken Pieces
My body feels super sore too, but I refuse to make this day shorter. I want to spend the most humanly possible time with her before we go back to our normal professional relationship.
Yeah, like you can ever go back to that.
“Well, too bad. You promised The Met. I haven’t been in years.” When I was able to afford any sort of traveling, this was the first place I came to. My first stop was The Metropolitan Museum, where such fine art asAutumn Rhythmby Jackson Pollock andSelf Portrait With Straw Hatby Vincent van Gogh reside. It had been my dream since I was a little kid to go, but my father was struggling as it is with his gallery, so we couldn’t afford it.
“Which painting are you most excitedto see?” I ask.
“Mmm,” she ponders. “ProbablyBridge Over A Pond Of Water LiliesbyClaude Monet. I love his work. It’s so… peaceful. I could stare at it for hours if they let me.”
We arrive at the museum and since it’s a Saturday, it’s definitely busier than normal, but we enter quickly and go to our favorite spots. We see the different collections from Asian to Egyptian art, and much more. We decide to leave the European paintings for last since that’s mostly what we came for.
As we’re roaming the European Paintings section, I’m barely paying attention to my surroundings. I’m mostly looking at Aria, because even though there is nothing but rich history in this place, all I can focus on isher. The way her eyes beam with excitement when she sees one of her favorite collections, to the way she scrunches her eyebrows as she studies a new painting, trying to discover the secret and history behind it. She likes to come up with her own theories and damn this girl is good, proving once more why she’s one of the top curators in the industry.
“Okay, this one,” she points as she reads the title, “Cypress in Moonlight.”
I nod, trying to regain my focus on the painting instead of the beautiful woman standing next to me.
“I can tell you off the bat, the style, in particular, is very similar to Vincent van Gogh with the way the cypress and both potted plants are dominating this scene, even thoughthere’s so much going on in the background, your eyes just go directly to that cypress.”
I nod in understanding, taking in the painting, trying my best to focus on the background, but my eyes keep moving to the cypress automatically.
“I bet you didn’t even notice the two shadows in the back,” she points out.
I gaze over the painting, trying my best to ignore the cypress and potted plants, noticing a shallow street next to the buildings, where there are indeed two shadows walking. “Such attention to detail,” I say in awe.
“Indeed,” she whispers.
We look at a few more statement pieces before we realize it’s already closing time. Being surrounded by art is a quick way to lose track of time, getting so involved in the rich history and the story each piece tells. It’s truly amazing.
My safe space.
As we exit the museum, we’re hit with the cold wind of the night. It's a little past nine in the evening, and the city is bustling with activity as always.
“Are you hungry?” I ask.
“I’m starving, but I’m so tired. I say we order takeout.”
“As long as it’s not dumplings, I don’t think I can eat those for a while.” I shudder with a grimace. Those dumplings were delicious, but I had too many at once.
She rubs her hands together, seeking some warmth as a laugh escapes her lips. “Ha. Liar. You know you loved them.”
“True,” I confess.
My driver arrives and I open the door for Aria. Thankfully, she’s so exhausted she doesn’t protest, which I appreciate because my body is so sore from ice skating, and I don’t think I can walk anymore. The drive is short, and we go back to the condo as we go over the eating options, deciding to go simple and order some pizza.
Nodding toward her room as I pick up the takeout pamphlet, I say, “I’ll make the order, you can go take a shower.”
“Oh, thank you. Because I’m so cold, I can’t wait to feel some hot water against my skin,” she says through a giggle, walking to her room and shutting the door.
I bite my lip trying to contain back a groan, because now I have an image in my head of Aria’s soft skin with droplets of water glistening all over.
And I’m officially losing my mind again. Get it fucking together.
Shaking my head and trying my best to get that image out of my head, I opt to call the restaurant instead. I have no idea what type of toppings she likes, so I order a few different combinations.
As I wait for the food to arrive, I sit down and open my laptop to take a quick look at my emails, trying to get aheadfor the upcoming week and putting out any fires that need my attention. I’ve been so distracted with Aria that I’ve barely paid attention to my phone, much less my email. I have hundreds of unread emails—not surprising— with random requests and meeting reminders. As I glance at them, I notice an encrypted email that just came in.
From: Unknown
