Page 23 of Will You (Not) Marry Me

And she couldn’t blame him either.

“I won’t make fun of you,” she said sincerely. He looked up at her then, blue eyes bright and clear. He was such an open, honest person that having him look so directly at her, right into her, made Eva feel like she was being turned inside out. That guilt twisted in her again, along with a spike of nerves from being looked at so intently.

“Won’t you?” asked Finn, a sarcastic lilt to his voice.

Eva grimaced a little. She had no reason to expect him to trust her, but it still stung a little.

“No,” she said firmly. “I won’t.”

Finn watched her for a few seconds longer, those eyes of his piercing her. Then he hesitated, more unsure than she had ever seen him, like a little kid working up the bravery to cross the road on his own for the first time. But eventually, Finn lifted up his arm and let her see what was in the notebook.

On one page was line after line of tiny, perfect cursive writing. That wasn’t what really caught her eye, though. On the other page was a sketch in black ink. In front of them on the table sat a stack of books and the fake flowers, and now on the page, there was a near-perfect drawing of them, shadows and all.

“Finn, that’s really, really good.”

His mouth just quirked a little, not really a smirk or a smile, just an embarrassed twitch. This was a side to him that Eva had never even suspected existed. No wonder he’d kept asking her about her art degree. He was so shy and sheepish about it as well. She’d only ever seen him exuding an annoying amount of confidence. He just shrugged again as if shrugging off her compliment, the tips of his ears still bright red.

“No, I’m serious,” she said. “I had to take some drawing classes as part of my degree, and my roommate back in New York, she’s a painter. I know how hard that is to do. And look at the vase…”

She couldn’t help herself, reaching a finger out to the page and letting it hover above the ink rendition of the crystal vase. He’d somehow managed, with just a pen, to capture all the tiny divots in the crystal to make it look reflective and bright on the page. It was a beautiful drawing, so realistic she felt like if she let her finger touch the page, she’d be able to feel every bump and crevice in the glass. He must have been out here for hours.

After a hesitant pause, Finn shifted the angle of the notebook so Eva could see better. Then he started flipping through the pages. There were paragraphs of his spidery text here and there, but almost every other available space was filled with drawings in pen. There was the exterior of his family’s palace from nearly every angle, landscapes dotted with trees and fence posts. Then there were pages filled with cityscapes as if he had drawn his view from a hotel window. There were drawings of birds, still lifes of candlesticks, and impossibly detailed sketches of chandeliers that somehow captured the effect of hundreds of tiny light bulbs.

“These are exceptional,” Eva said, eyes raking over every detail.

“Thank you,” said Finn. The words were polite and disbelieving.

“Finn, if you put a sketchbook like this in as part of an application, you’d get into any art school you wanted. Or you could draw something larger, you know, on proper paper or something and submit it to galleries. They’d eat this up.”

God, he really was talented. Abbie would cry if she saw this, at how effortless it seemed to be for him to draw.

Almost without her noticing, Eva shuffled closer to Finn, her arm brushing against the sleeve of his sweater. Now knowing they had art in common, it had kicked open a firmly shut door inside her and she wanted to ask him everything. Had he always drawn? Did he teach himself or did he have lessons at some point? Did he paint as well? What were his favorite artists? Would he still be happy to wander around a gallery with her for hours on end, like he’d offered, while she read every single information plaque next to every single painting? Wait…

The plan, Eva. This is the opposite of sticking to the plan.

Thinking up scenarios for days out together wasnotthe intended result. She was overtired, that was all. That’s why her mind was taking her to weird places.

“I never really consideredgalleries,” Finn said, back to fiddling with his pen. He was almost shy, like he didn’t quite know what to say without the structure of royal protocol guiding him.

“Why not?” asked Eva, unable to help herself, wanting to know more about this new side to Finn. He gave her a look as if the answer were obvious.

“Well, I already had a career planned out for me since before I was born, haven’t I?” he said, closing the notebook and tucking it away under folded arms. “Ruling a nation is a full-time job.Preparingto rule a nation is another full-time job. Taking this sort of thing seriously… well, it didn’t really factor into any plans.”

If he was aiming to sound nonchalant and dismissive, it was failing. He sounded sad. Regretful.

“You could do both?” Eva offered.

“So could you, you know,” he countered, holding her gaze. Challenging her.

Eva lifted her chin just a fraction, not rising to the bait. Finn grinned, knowing he’d caught her out, that he’d seen behind her mask, and now there was no getting him to un-see it.

“You could be a royal and everything that entails,” he said. “Andyou could be a photographer, travel the world. If that’s what you want.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not that easy, is it?” she said quietly, backpedaling as fast as she could.

She really should have just stayed in bed.

CHAPTER11

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