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“Exactly!” she pointed at me. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. Step aside, Mr. Blackwood.” She raised her arm and pushed me out of the way. “I’ll only be a few minutes, and then we can go.”
She finished packing and labeling the box, and we took it with us in the sedan.
“Louis, can you stop at the post office first? I have to drop this box off.”
“Of course.” He smiled.
ChapterSixteen
Damien
Our footsteps echoed against the marble floor as we moved from one exhibit to the next. The Metropolitan Museum of Art bustled with the usual Saturday afternoon crowd. Still, I barely noticed the other people around as I followed Willa through the Greek and Roman sculpture gallery, figures frozen in poses of power. I walked over to a weathered bronze statue and studied it.
“Interesting choice, Willa said, standing beside me. “Most people gravitate toward Aphrodite over there.”
“I prefer the imperfect ones,” I said, gazing at the centuries-old statue. They feel more—honest.”
“Is that how you feel about people?” she asked, glancing at me.
My eyes caught hers, and the corners of my mouth lifted. “I don’t think anyone in this world is perfect. Perfect is an illusion, a façade people try to be but can’t achieve such an unattainable thing.”
After leaving the museum, we went to Central Park. Climbing out of the sedan, I extended my hand to help her out of the car, but I didn’t let go of it this time. I’d contemplated holding her hand in the museum, but didn’t know why I didn’t.
The air was warm, flowers were in bloom, and the smell of hot dogs filtered through the air as we approached the vendor’s cart and stood in line.
“What can I get you two?” the vendor asked.
“Two with everything,” I said, pulling out my wallet.
“Except no onions on mine,” Willa said.
“I’ve seen you eat onions.” I smirked.
“I just don’t like them on a hot dog.”
We found a bench overlooking the pond, where families gathered with their remote-control boats, gliding across the water’s surface. A couple was walking by, arguing, and stopped in front of us.
“Just tell me the fucking truth for once in your life, Dean. Did you sleep with her?”
“Keep your damn voice down, Maggie. Yes, I did. There.” He held out his arms. “Are you happy now?”
“How could you do this to me? To us?”
“We’re going in different directions, Maggie, and you know it.” He pointed at her and then walked away. She chased after him.
I glanced at Willa. “Well, that was awkward.”
“Why do guys always say that?”
“Say what?” I asked.
“We’re going in different directions. That’s what my ex said to me. It’s just an excuse to avoid telling the other person the real truth.”
“I don’t know. I think people’s lives go in different directions at some point.”
“I agree. But as a couple, you should talk about it and figure it out instead of just running away. Do you tell women that?” Her brow arched.
I stared into her eyes, which demanded to know the truth.