Just like that, the shitty music was turned down, almost to nothing.
A soft and quiet murmur in the background.
Fiona looked at me again.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I let a moment or two get the best of me. You did nothing wrong, Fi. Ever.”
“Oh, I’ve done plenty wrong, Riff. But yesterday… I get it. It was unexpected for me too. I just took it differently than you did.”
“You know what happened that night,” I said.
Fiona swallowed hard.
“He had that painting from you,” I whispered. “All he wanted me to do was-”
“Riff, no,” she said. She shook her head. “There’s no need for that right now.”
“I’m just explaining what went through my head. How hard it hit me.”
“If this is a problem, then I can just figure something else out.”
There was my next opening to get out of this arrangement.
Not that I technically needed one.
Fiona started to stand but I wasn’t allowing it for a second.
My arms wrapped around her and I pulled her against me even more.
I basically took over the stool, which left her sitting on my lap.
Certain parts of our bodies lined up perfectly.
I felt her.
She sure as hell felt me.
“This can’t be a problem, Fi,” I said.
“Why not?”
I reached with my right hand and touched her chin.
I made her look at me.
“Because I like that you’re here,” I said. “Because painting always meant something to you. And I guess it’s kind of cool to see you laid back. And painting. Here. In my place. With me.”
“So you can complain about everything?”
“Yeah.”
I waited for Fiona to throw some more daggers at me.
Only she didn’t.
This odd moment fell between us.
