Page 78 of That Fake Feeling

Holyshit, that tongue.Andall the things it could curl itself around.

Itake a slug of beer to try to chill the desire that’s been building within me all day.

“Anyway, yeah,”Isay as the cool liquid glides down my throat. “Ihadn’t thought about the mural tillIgot there and saw it was the music room that needed to be painted.Itseemed like a missed opportunity to do it all plain white.Thenthe idea suddenly came to me.”

“Haveyou always been able to draw and paint?”

“Yeah.Itwas always the one thingIcould do better than any of the brousins.Andthe only thingIever loved doing.”

“Well, if you’re naturally good at something, it feels good.Isee that in some of the kids.Sowhy didn’t you go into art?”

Isn’tit obvious?

“Thatwouldn’t have supported even just me, let alone my parents.Theywouldn’t have been proud of an art school bum of a son, would they?Anyway,Icommitted toMax’spact.”

Shefreezes with her mouth around a forkful of risotto.Hereyebrows shoot up as she holds up the forefinger of her non-fork-holding hand, indicating she has something important to say as soon as she’s finished chewing.

“Ican wait,”Itell her. “I’lleat too whileIanticipate your next wisdom pearl.”Ishovel some fusilli and tomato into my mouth.

Roseswallows her food. “Okay, okay.”Sheputs her fork down and grabs a napkin to wipe her fingers and shiny lips, like she means business. “You’vesaid the thing before about not liking running a big company, and feeling like you’re not cut out for it, and believing you’re a failure even though you have all this.”Shewaves her napkin at the roof terrace.

“Butlet me get this straight.”Shetakes a sip of beer before turning to face me, her hand falling on the seat cushion just inches from my thigh. “Areyou saying you only stick with the business because it’s what you think your family wants you to do?”

Ishrug. “Ofcourse.”

“Butthe only thing you’ve ever really wanted to do since you were a kid was to be an artist or work with art in some way?”

Iwash down the pasta with a glug of beer. “Yup.”

“Now, call me dumb”—she taps the side of her head—“but why would you not just do that now?Imean, it’s not like you haven’t made enough cash for several lifetimes.”

“I’malready the family fuckup.Walkingaway from a career just becauseIdon’t feel like doing it wouldn’t be a way to change that perception or make my parents proud, would it?”

“Okay.Bearwith me whileIthink aloud and put this all together.”Ican almost hear the cogs of her mind turning. “I’vestudied enough child psychology to know that when some kids are forced down a path that’s different from where their natural skills and heart lie, they tend to act out.”

Sheshifts her hand and rests it gently on my forearm.It’sa soft, delicate touch that’s somehow calming and reassuring while also being incredibly sensual all at the same time.

“Inthe classroom, that can mean them throwing stuff, having a tantrum, or being mean to other kids.So, my best guess would be that in an adult it might exhibit itself as, oh,Idon’t know, maybe hanging out in bars and clubs till closing time, picking up random women, turning up at work hungover and not giving a crap, and, you know, generally seeming to be a bit of a dick.”

Shelooks like she just cracked theRiddleof theSphinxand is worried by the answer.

“Didyou just psychoanalyze me,ProfessorBellamore?”

“No.I’mmaking an educated guess.Basedon a little bit of study and the fact that you give all the outward appearances of being an asshole without actually being one.”

“I’mflattered.Imean, what higher praise could a man ever hope for than ‘not an asshole’?”

Itmight even mean she likes me.

“Allthis time you’ve been acting out, haven’t you?”Sheremoves her hand from my arm and gives me a gentle prod in the shoulder. “Justlike a seven-year-old boy who’s a gifted dancer but is forced to play football.”

Rosecelebrates her diagnosis by twirling more fettucine around her fork.Shecloses her eyes with pleasure as she drops it into her mouth.

I’venever known what people mean when they sayItalianfood is sexy.ButIsure as hell do now.

She’snot the only one with a theory, though. “Youthink you have me all figured out, huh?Well, two can play at that game.”

Shescoops up more risotto and leans back, draping her arm along the rear of the sofa.