Second Chance for Romance полностью

“Holy shit! I can’t believe I didn’t tell you either. Yeah! The gallery owner picked five of my pieces. She actually sold three of them, and I have a commission to shoot a magazine spread next week. It’s a dark sort of Christmas art series.”

“That’s awesome! Congratulations.”

“Yeah, thanks. I can’t believe I didn’t tell you.”

“You had other things on your mind,” I said.

“No fucking kidding.”

We talked about the show for a few minutes, until I couldn’t contain a yawn.

“It’s late there,” she said. “I should probably let you go.”

“Sorry. I really enjoy talking to you, but… I still have a couple of hours’

work to do.”

“I understand.”

“Matter of fact,” I said, “I’ll probably be busy through the weekend too.”

“Yeah, and I have my shoot on Monday.”

“And then there’s Thanksgiving. Oh my God! I can’t believe I didn’t tell you…”

“What?”

“My parents are going to Hawaii, and you won’t believe what happened.”

I told her about Christy’s invitation.

“Holy shit. For real? She invited you to meet her family? That’s serious.”

“No kidding.”

“Are you nervous?”

“Me? No. Seriously?”

She laughed. “You’re always so goddamn confident. And I have to admit,

you’re charming as hell, too. I’d’ve killed you if you weren’t.”

“See? If I can win you over, her family will be a piece of cake.”

We laughed and talked some more and agreed to catch up after Thanksgiving.

“It was great hearing from you, Sara,” I said at last.

“You too. You’re one of the few bright spots in my life at the moment.”

“Same here. I hope you know that.”

“I do,” she said quietly. Then she sniff-laughed. “Asshole.”

“Made you cry, didn’t I?”

“Yes. Fuck you very much.”

“I love you too.”

“You know, I actually believe it when you say that.”

“You should,” I said. “It isn’t romantic love, but still…”

“Thanks. That really means a lot.”

I waited for a moment but then continued before the silence grew awkward. “Okay, now that we have that out of the way. I really need to hang up. I’m gonna fall asleep if I don’t get up and move around. And I still have a ton of stuff to do.”

“Yeah, I know. Good luck with Christy and the sculpture. And I hope you figure out how to let Gina down easy.”

“Thanks. Good luck with your magazine spread and everything. Are you doing anything for Thanksgiving?”

“The gallery owner invited me to spend it with her and a few friends. I thought it was a friendly invite at first, but she called to remind me, so now I’m not so sure.”

“Oh? Romantic possibility?”

“Not sure. She’s twenty years older, so… I dunno. I hate to sound mercenary, but she’d be good for my career.” Her pause was as good as a shrug. “Sometimes you do what it takes.”

“I guess you do,” I said at last. “Have a good Thanksgiving. I’ll call afterward, and you can tell me about your new gallery owner girlfriend.”

“Yeah. And good luck with Christy’s family. Hope you charm ’em like you did me.”

“Just without the shouting and threats of violence.”

“Exactly!”

“Take care, Sara. Talk to you soon.”

“You too, Paul. And… um…”

“Yeah?”

“What you said earlier…?” She paused for a long moment. “Me too.”

“I know,” I said quietly. “But I’m glad you said it.”

“Well, don’t expect me to say it again.”

“I won’t.”

“So, yeah… I guess that’s goodnight.”

“Yep. G’night. Talk to you soon.”

The line clicked.

I set the receiver on its cradle and rolled upright. Then I looked at my bedside clock and groaned. It was after midnight.

“Screw it.” I began unbuttoning my shirt. Everything could wait till morning.

Christy recruited a couple of art major friends to help with the next stage of her project. We transferred the heavy clay sculpture to a rolling table and wheeled it down to one of the molding and casting studios.

We needed to build a box for the mold first. And even though Christy and her friends knew what to do, none of them had much experience doing it. I watched with amusement as they struggled with basic tools like a hammer and saw. At first I was a bit annoyed that Siobhan had simply cast Christy adrift without any guidance, but then I realized why I was there.

I had to hand it to the older woman—she knew what she was doing. She gave her students guidance instead of doing the work for them. She taught them the skills, gave them the tools, and let them learn for themselves. And in this case, I was part of the lesson.

I hopped off the cart where I’d been watching. “Here,” I said. “Lemme help.”

“Oh my gosh, thank you,” Christy said.

“Why didn’t you just ask me in the first place? You know I can do this.”

“I didn’t want to impose. I mean, after all you’ve done…”

“What? You think I have a limited amount of friendship?” I chuckled and took the saw from her before she hurt herself.

“Have you ever made a mold?” one of the friends asked. She was a big-boned girl with a punk haircut.

“No, but I’ve framed houses. Same principle. So, you draw what you want, and I’ll make it happen.”

Christy, the punk girl, and her other friend (a tall, thin guy with bad acne)