Dazzling by Elizabeth Hayley

Author:Elizabeth Hayley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little, Brown and Company
Published: 2016-11-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Siobhan put her spoon down to rest on the small dessert in front of her. “The rest is yours,” she said, pointing at the chocolate soufflé they’d been sharing.

“Really? You don’t want anymore?” Derick asked. But he didn’t wait for Siobhan to respond before finishing off the last few bites.

When the waiter returned to clear their plates, he said something to Derick in French, a language Siobhan had no idea Derick knew before tonight.

“What did he say?” Siobhan asked after the waiter had left.

“He said you’re beautiful.”

Siobhan looked at him in disbelief. “Seriously? He said that?”

Derick laughed and reached across the table to take Siobhan’s hand. “No. He asked if he should bring the check. Guys don’t tell other guys how hot their girlfriends are.”

“Oh, right.” Siobhan laughed softly.

“It’s true though, you know. You are beautiful.” Derick’s eyes warmed in the dim light of the elegant French restaurant, and Siobhan felt herself get lost in them.

“So,” Derick said, “there’s something I’ve been wondering, but I’m not sure how you’ll feel about it.”

“What?”

“I want to see your art.” Derick looked eager, but she could hear the hesitation in his voice.

Siobhan was quiet at first. Her art was so personal to her. Sharing it with people always made her self-conscious. But there was a part of her that was excited to share her work with Derick. And the intimacy of it caused her to agree.

On the ride back to her apartment, Siobhan was a bundle of nerves. Not only would Derick be in the small space she called home, but he’d also see her paintings. It felt like a double whammy of judgment was waiting for her, and anxiety filled her.

They made their way into her apartment, and Siobhan turned on a few lights she had scattered around. Everything was visible from where Derick stood just inside the doorway. Her tiny galley kitchen, her bed, rickety table, overflowing closet that the faded pink dressing screen only partially obscured from view—it was all there like a beacon of economic hardship.

The only redeeming quality of the space—with its plastered ceiling and crumbling brick walls—was the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the bustling metropolis outside. To most it would just be a drafty window, but to a painter it was a dream—a frame that harnessed art that was in constant motion.

In an attempt to distract Derick from looking around her home, she walked to where she’d installed shelves on the far wall. “I put them here so the sun doesn’t hit them.”

Derick followed her over and spent a few minutes looking at the paintings. “It was smart to put them on shelves.”

“Well, I don’t have a ton of space, and I don’t want them lying around where they could get messed up. You’ve seen how clumsy I am.” Despite attempting to joke, her voice sounded small and unsure. She cleared her throat in the hopes of swallowing the feeling of inadequacy that swamped her.

“They’re gorgeous.”

His compliment warmed her slightly—made her shoulders relax. “Thanks.”

“I wish I knew more about art.

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