When he was touched, he had this warm look in his eyes. He was so talented but so humble at the same time. He seemed to care about the success of his artwork, not of himself personally. He was deeply artistic, poetic, and sensitive. Well-spoken and well-read, he was a special kind of man. I’d never met anyone like him before. “May I ask why you liked mine?”
His expression became focused once more. “Yes. I was hoping you would. I loved all the details in it, from the scrapes against the limestone wall, to the flower boxes full of geraniums, to the old, beat-up blue bicycle parked in the alleyway, to the slightly slanted window that we’re sitting in front of now. It was a better image than any camera could capture. The vibrant red color of the flowers in contrast to the ancient brown stone. It illustrated a small moment in Florence, a moment I’d experienced so many times. Unlike a photograph, it was so much more evocative…so much more emotional. When you’re painting something, you’re capturing a feeling, an emotion, and you did a beautiful job of accomplishing that.”
Hearing such heartfelt praise over something I cared so much about meant the world to me. When Bones loved my artwork, it pulled at my heartstrings. It made me fall for him, because even though he knew nothing about art, he felt something. Now I was listening to a professional praise my work, and his words weren’t empty because he’d bought my painting before he even knew anything about me. Everything he said was sincere. “Thank you…that means a lot coming from you.”
“Why?” He cocked his head slightly to the side.
“Because you’re an amazing artist.”
He chuckled quietly. “As flattered as I am, I have to correct you. I think your talent far exceeds mine. The only difference between us is I’ve been in the game much longer. When I buy artwork, I’m very picky. There’s only so much wall space, and you have to choose carefully. I never want to throw a painting away. I have collections ranging from Monet to Picasso. When I saw yours, I didn’t think twice about it. I knew I had to have it. So before you assume I’m the better artist, just keep that in mind.”
Getting coffee with Antonio was much better than I expected. The conversation unfolded naturally, and by the end, it seemed like I was getting coffee with an old friend. He was interesting, polite, and easy on the eyes. He never made it seem like a date. When we’d first walked into the coffee shop, he didn’t even try to pay for my drink.
It was nice.
I enjoyed his company because we had so much in common, and it was nice to talk to someone who had no tie to my past. With Antonio, I didn’t have to see him pity me like the rest of my family did. It felt like a fresh start, turning over a new leaf. He was the first friend I’d made in Florence, and I hoped he would stay my friend.
We left the coffee shop and walked back to my apartment, his arm almost touching my shoulder on the sidewalk. The streetlamps were on, and there were very few people passing through town. I was only a few blocks away, and even though I told him I could make it back on my own, he insisted on escorting me.
“Thanks for having coffee with me,” he said. “I enjoyed getting to know you better, Vanessa.”
I loved it when he said my name. He had such a sexy voice, and he made the single word sound so deep. “Yeah…I did too.”
He stopped in front of my gallery, next to the stairs that led to the second story where my apartment was located. He didn’t try to walk me right to the door, which was a relief. We stood on the sidewalk, in the glow of the light from the streetlamp. There weren’t any pedestrians near us, so it seemed like we were completely alone.
I faced him, purposely keeping several feet between us. “Well…goodnight.”
He kept his hands in his pockets. “Goodnight.” He stayed rooted to the spot, looking at me with chocolate-colored eyes.
I’d already said goodnight, but I was still standing there.
He smiled slightly.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he said, still wearing that charming grin. “I knew we would have a good time if you just gave me a chance.”
“Well, it’s nice to make a new friend.” I purposely dropped that word in there, rejecting him subtly. I didn’t mean to offend him, but I didn’t want him to think anything had changed between us. I enjoyed his company and he enjoyed mine, and if this had been a real date, I’d be inviting him to my apartment right now. But my heart was still in the same place as it was before…in the palm of a different man.