Had he overheard? And if so, how much? I cleared my throat. "So, you're done with the hinges, huh?"
He asked, "Is it true?"
I didn't know what to say. I stood, silently, as he strode forward and stopped within arm's reach. His gaze probed mine. "Is it?"
Stupidly, I said, "Is what true?"
"The art thing." His face was utterly unreadable. "You were just messing with Derek, right?"
This wasn't how I wanted to tell him. Stalling, I asked, "How'd you know I was talking to Derek?"
"Not hard to figure out." He studied my face. "Whatwasthat? A story to piss him off?"
I didn't know what to say. I hadn't been planning to tell Joel anything at all until the paperwork had been signed. But I didn't want to lie to him either.
Trying not to give too much away, I asked, "What if itwasn'ta story? How would you feel?"
He shrugged. "I wouldn’t care either way."
It was a lie.
I could see it in his eyes – a flicker of hope, along with a wariness that would've broken my heart if the news was bad.
But itwasn'tbad. It was good. Really good. And suddenly, I was determined to make him enjoy it, whether he wanted to or not.
I gave him a secret smile. "Oh well, if you don't care either way…" I turned, as if to go.
He snagged my hand and tugged me toward him. "You're messing with me."
Laughing, I fell against his chest. "Am I?"
I felt his arms close tight around me. When he spoke again, I heard the hint of a smile in his voice. "Right?"
I pulled back to gaze up at him. In mock confusion, I said, "Wait, I thought I was messing with Derek."
"Derek isn't here," he said. "I am."
Yes. He was. And I was so crazy about him that I couldn’t stop myself from smiling ear-to-ear when I finally announced, "You won!"
He shook his head. "No."
"Yes."
His mouth twitched at the corners. "You're shitting me."
I shook my head. "Nope."
"But how?" he asked.
"Oh come on," I said. "Do youreallythink I'd let just let it go?" Even now, I couldn’t stop smiling. "You're amazing. So I took the painting you gave me and showed it to Claude at our final meeting."
Joel gave a confused shake of his head. "Who's Claude?"
"You don't remember? He's the art critic who picks the candidates."
Joel's voice grew quiet. "But I didn't apply."
"You didn't have to," I explained. "Thanks to Derek's little prank, your name was already on the list. And, they'd already met you, so anyway…" I gave him a big, happy smile. "Congratulations!"
