Page 20 of The Heart of a Painter (As I Am 1)

He might’ve even been the friend Ineeded.

“I’mgoing to sum it up, even though you probably get it by now.” He placed the mug down, his eyes moving between mine. “Idon’tpity you, Erin.”

Igot it, but Iliked hearing it nonetheless. “Thank you for saying that and for trusting me with your story.”

“I’mthe one who should be thanking you. You’re much braver than Ithought.”

“And you’re not the asshole Ithought you were.”

We both smiled, the ghosts that were our lives floating in the air in the small café, heavy and light and mystical. The urge to run as far as Icould from this man dwindled, feeling safe in his presence instead.

Thomas’sdeep tone broke through the silence eventually. “You’re not so bad yourself. When you’re not trying to destroy my lectures.”

My eyebrows jumped up, curiosity taking over me. “Did they love it?”

He shook his finger at me. “They did. And after having an evening to dwell on it, Ididn’thate it either.”

“Oh my gosh! You didn’t?” Iyelled, unable to contain my excitement.

“Ididn’t. Just, please, not again. Not asurprise presentation, anyway.”

“Yes, boss.” Istood up and stretched my limbs, deciding to end this night with asmile, for the both of us. “Is there achance you’re headed in the direction of my neighborhood? There are some seriously creepy guys hanging around there and Idon’twant to walk by myself.”

He looked up at me, the smile never leaving his face. “As luck would have it, that’swhere Ilive.”