Read Between The Lines: Business of Love 6

by Parker, Ali

  Where I could meet a husband.

  My mother and father spent the rest of the time in line talking to me about how important their work was and referred to studies about the increasing wages of dentists and projections of future increases. I smiled and nodded along to every word until we were through the doors and in the convention surrounded by booths with people passing out samples and offering smiles as white and rehearsed as my parents’.

  The distraction of the convention spared me from being bombarded by my folks.

  For a while, I was thankful for the pushy salespeople and reps trying to stop me at every booth I passed. Someone handed me a white bag which was literally snatched out of my hands and filled with swag by nearly every booth.

  After the first hour, I had a collection of waxes to press onto braces and protect the inside of the mouth from cuts from the wires and brackets, baking-soda-infused toothpastes, charcoal toothpastes, whitening strips, mouthwash, floss, toothbrushes, chewable dental gummies, and many more items. My parents were thrilled by the stash we’d all acquired when we happened upon the lunch area.

  The selection wasn’t very diverse. We could choose a salad, burritos, or soup and sandwiches. I opted for a bowl of soup and made my first mistake of the day by ordering tomato. When I sat down with my parents at our table, my mother peered over my shoulder into the bowl.

  “You should try to avoid acidic foods, Nora,” she said, clicking her tongue. “With all your travel, I’m sure you weren’t able to practice your normal dental care. You should be making up for lost time.”

  I filled my spoon with acidic soup and crammed it in my mouth.

  My mother sighed and set to work on her salad.

  My father looked back and forth between me and my mother. Of the two of them, he was more reserved. He kept his opinions to himself for the most part unless my mother called on him to speak. He and I hadn’t spoken for a while after I dropped out of dental school and up and left the country. He’d been insulted and, according to my mother, said it was like a slap in the face that I’d take advantage of them like that.

  Now I didn’t know how to talk to him.

  So, I ate my soup and thought about how they would feel about Walker if they were to meet him. I knew they wouldn’t like that he was an artist—at least they wouldn’t until they found out how much money he made. And I thought that was shitty but not surprising. They measured success through finances and life milestones like marriage, buying a house, and having children.

  They weren’t bad people. I knew that. They just wanted me to be more like them, and I wasn’t, and there was nothing I could do about that unless I wanted to lead an inauthentic life and pretend to be someone I wasn’t.

  That was something I wasn’t willing to do. Not anymore.

  My father cleared his throat. “How have you been spending your time since you got home, Nora?”

  I sipped my water. “Catching up with friends and job hunting mostly.”

  “Job hunting?” my mother asked with a quirked eyebrow. “What kind of work?”

  “Nothing related to teeth,” I said.

  My mother looked down at her salad.

  “What then?” my father asked.

  I sat up a little straighter. “Travel writing.”

  My mother looked up at my father. She blinked, turned to me, opened her mouth to speak, and promptly closed it again. She skewered lettuce, cucumber, and feta cheese on her fork and stuck it in her mouth.

  “I don’t know what I want to do yet and I’m not going to make any hasty decisions. But I wrote an article for a website that is going to be published, and I’m excited about it.”

  “Does it pay well?” my father asked.

  “We haven’t had a chance to discuss pay structure,” I said, wishing that wasn’t the first question he asked. “We have a follow-up discussion coming up this week.”

  “You should have a bottom line in mind of what you’ll accept money-wise,” my mother said before dabbing at her lips with her napkin. “It never hurts to go in as prepared as possible. And it’s important to know your worth. You won’t want to shoot too high, of course, since you don’t have much experience, but—”

  “Mom,” I said firmly, “I don’t need to be coached.”

  “Of course not,” my mother said. “We just want to make sure you’re successful in whatever it is you end up doing. Even if it’s not dentistry.”

  “Which it won’t be,” I said.

  “Never say never,” my mother said cheerfully.

  Nothing had changed. Things felt exactly as they had when I was sixteen years old sitting at the dining-room table for dinner with my folks. They’d talk to me about school, about my grades, about exams, studying strategies, my schedule for the weeks ahead. It was never-ending helicopter parenting.

  “Mom, I don’t want to—”

  I was cut off when my father abruptly stood up, held his hand over his head, and waved at someone. I twisted in my seat to see a young Asian man walking toward our table. He waved in return and smiled broadly. Like everyone at this convention, he had blinding white teeth and a perfect smile. He had dimples, too, and a strong jawline. He was quite handsome.

  My mother spotted him, fluffed her short blonde curls, and nudged my foot under the table with hers. This was code in my house growing up to be on my best behavior.

  The young man arrived at our table and shook my father’s hand. “It’s good to see you, Martin. I’m glad you made it out for the convention.”

  My father released his hand, clapped his shoulder, and gestured at the open seat across from me. “Care to join us?”

  The young man unbuttoned his suit jacket. “Don’t mind if I do. I’ve been stuck at my booth all afternoon. My feet could use a rest.” He settled into his chair and smiled across the table at me. “You must be Nora.”

  Oh God.

  He held out a hand. I shook it. His grip was firm and warm.

  My father nodded approvingly. “Nora, this is Spencer Kim. Your mother and I went to dental school with his parents and he’s just opened his own practice.”

  The son they never had, I thought bitterly before slapping a fake smile on my face. “Nice to meet you, Spencer.”

  My mother put her hand on my knee. “Spencer works in the city, Nora. He’s quite close to where you live actually. You should see if you could get on his patient list and go in for a cleaning sometime.”

  I groaned internally.

  “No pressure.” Spencer chuckled. “But I’d be happy to have you come in. You have beautiful teeth.”

  I hate dentists. “Thank you,” I said thinly.

  My father put a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “Spencer just bought his own house this year.”

  I frowned. Was I supposed to care about any of this? I didn’t know the dude. Sure, he was handsome, bright eyed, and friendly enough, but none of those things mattered to me in the slightest, and neither did his ascension to home ownership.

  “Congratulations?” I said, hoping that was what my father wanted me to say.

  My dad nodded approvingly.

  Spencer seemed a tad uncomfortable with all the praise. If I’d stayed in dental school and pursued a career I hated, I knew my parents would treat me the same way. The way my dad burst with pride over someone else’s son made me feel like shit.

  He’d never gushed over me like that.

  Nobody spoke for a minute and it grew uncomfortable until Spencer broke the silence.

  “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Nora. Your father has been talking about you nonstop for weeks, anticipating your return from your world travels. How was it? What country was your favorite?”

  His questions were genuine but I couldn’t get past the first part of what he said. He’d been looking forward to meeting me? My father had been talking to him about me for weeks?

  It hit me like a punch in the gut that this was all a setup. The convention was a coverup. The real goal my parents had in bringing me
here was introducing me to the handsome, successful, young dentist with the hope that he and I would hit it off and I’d what, go on a date with him?

  My tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth.

  My mother nudged me in the ribs with her elbow. “Spencer asked you a question, Nora.”

  I gave my head a shake. “I’m sorry. I think… I think…”

  Spencer watched me innocently, his lips turned down in a slight frown as he realized I had no idea he was there to meet me.

  “Nora,” my father said.

  The words exploded out of me. “I’m dating someone!”

  My parents stared at me with wide eyes.

  I grimaced and looked at Spencer. “I’m sorry, Spencer. You seem like a really nice person but I didn’t realize what this was. I need to make it clear that I’m not available.”

  Spencer leaned back in his chair and smiled. “I understand, Nora. I had no expectations.”

  Sure you didn’t.

  I pushed up from my chair. “I think I’m going to leave now.” With that, I turned on my heel and marched away from the roped-off lunch section. I brushed strangers’ shoulders as I wove through the booths intent on escaping.

  My mother caught my arm and pulled me to a stop when I was within twenty feet of the exit.

  “Nora,” she said sharply, her voice full of disapproval. “That was incredibly rude. Why didn’t you tell us you were seeing someone? We could have avoided putting Spencer in this position.”

  I pulled my arm free. “By we, I really hope you mean you and Dad, because I didn’t put Spencer in any position. I didn’t know he was coming today. I didn’t know this whole thing was a sneaky little ploy to introduce me to a guy because God forbid I’m happy on my own.”

  My father caught up with us. “Nora, what was that all about?”

  “I’m leaving.” I turned and walked out the exit doors.

  My parents followed into the cold afternoon.

  “Nora,” my mother called after me. “Who is this man you’re seeing? What does he do?”

  “Why is that the first thing you want to know?” I asked, spinning to face them. “Why does his job matter so much?”

  “We want to make sure he can take care of you,” my father said.

  “I can take care of me. I don’t need a man. I don’t need anyone. I’m—”

  “But you’re with someone now?” my mother asked.

  I raked my fingers through my hair. I didn’t want to explain this to them. I shouldn’t have to.

  “Why didn’t you tell us about him?” My mother looked at my father and back at me.

  “Because,” I said desperately, aching for them to understand me for once. “You might scare him off. And I really, really like him. The last thing I want is for him to decide I’m not worth it because I have parents who act like my managers and might make him feel like he’s not enough for me when in reality he’s more than I ever dreamed I could have.” I’d said too much already. My parents shared a look I’d never seen before, and something inside me shriveled into a frightened little knot. “It’s still really new and I want to go at my own pace, okay?”

  Chapter 28

  Walker

  I missed Nora.

  We’d been apart for a grand total of five hours but it felt like a lifetime.

  After spending an hour or so with Wes and Briar, I’d gotten back in my SUV and headed for my studio to put the finishing touches on the painting of Aayla, which was going to be picked up this week by my tweed-jacket customer. Now at two in the afternoon, all that was missing was my signature on the bottom right corner beneath the puddle of gold at Aayla’s fingertips.

  I left my signature on the canvas and leaned back in my chair to soak in the sight of the final product.

  It had taken a long time to get to this stage of the game. Just weeks ago, it had been one of my favorite pieces I’d ever done. That had changed after my date with Aayla where I learned more about her. Now I couldn’t help but see vanity in the reflection of her eyes on the canvas and insecurity in the curve of her hip.

  She was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever laid eyes on, but what had that cost her?

  I was glad the painting would be moving along to a new home soon. I didn’t want it in the gallery and was ready to move on to new, brighter things.

  Like Nora.

  Everything circled back to her. Over and over, I found my thoughts tracing back to Nora. To the tranquility of her eyes, the curl of her lips, the swell of her breasts, ass, hips—all of it. I had her body committed to memory, and as I stepped back from the portrait of Aayla, I had half a mind to start working on the rough outline I had going of Nora.

  I obliged the urge.

  An hour passed as I sat working on her canvas. Now that I knew her more intimately, I was able to fix the parts of her silhouette that weren’t quite right. I didn’t have the dimensions of her shoulders or hips right. I chased away shadows, lightened high points like her forehead, nose, and chest, and began darkening the background before committing to one of the details I usually started with that opened up the rest of the process—the eyes.

  I captured the brilliance of her stare the way I saw it when I closed my eyes. A galaxy dazzled in her irises, held by the whites of her eyes. From there, long lashes cast shadows onto high cheekbones speckled with freckles that started to look like shimmering stars the more I progressed with the painting.

  I’d never painted a woman without her sitting right in front of me before. I pushed my own limits and kept going even though I was beginning to question if the choices I was making were the right ones. What started as a realist painting soon morphed into something fantastical. Something magical.

  Nora came to life on the canvas the way I saw her. Her aura was bright and colorful against a stormy backdrop of heavy gray clouds bursting with fragmented bursts of lightning. The lightning started out white but soon turned silver, and as I brightened it up, it appeared to glow behind her as the clouds darkened and became one with Nora’s wild mane of dark hair.

  It was quickly becoming the best piece I’d ever done.

  More brush strokes put extra curls in her hair. I darkened and thickened her eyebrows. I made her cupid’s bow and upper lip more dramatic until her lips looked as real as the ones I’d kissed when I dropped her off today. Some shadow and highlighting there made them look dewy and wet beneath blushing cheeks dotted in white-star freckles.

  I moved down to work on her torso. The painting ended right below her navel, which I’d committed to memory and captured perfectly on the canvas. Her breasts held my attention for some time. I wanted to get the curves right. Her nipples. The swells. The space between them where I’d run a finger down last night to a place that didn’t exist in the painting.

  I nearly leapt out of my skin and messed up the painting when my phone rang.

  I set my brush down and went to my phone where I’d left it on one of the studio tables. I picked it up and saw Nora’s name across the screen.

  “Couldn’t stop thinking about me, could you?” I asked.

  Nora’s soft laughter filled the line. “I regret calling already.”

  “Do you?”

  “No.”

  I grinned. “How’s it going so far? Tell me you haven’t locked yourself up in a bathroom or something to get away from your folks.”

  “Not a bathroom,” she said. “My bedroom.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “Oh, you have no idea,” she said. I could hear frustration in her voice. What could have possibly happened in the four or five hours we’d spent apart?

  “Tell me.”

  She sighed heavily before launching into her story. “Well, they dragged me to the dentist convention, which was an absolute snooze-fest until, much to my horror, my dad invites this friendly, handsome guy named Spencer to sit and have lunch with us.”

  “Who’s Spencer?”

  “Nobody. He’s literally nobody. Wait until I get to the end
.”

  “Okay,” I grumbled.

  “Turns out, Spencer is also a dentist. By default, this means he’s a catch in my parents’ books and they thought they’d do me a favor by introducing us in the hopes he and I hit it off and went out on a date. Or ten.”

  “The audacity.”

  “Tell me about it! Before I knew it, I was storming out of there and they were demanding to know what the hell was wrong with me so I… well, I told them I was seeing someone.”

  “Seeing someone?” I asked, grinning like a fool. “There you go again, saying we’re together. Maybe we should just save ourselves both some time and make it official.”

  Nora hesitated but only for a second. “Are you asking me to go out over the phone?”

  “Is that not good enough for you?”

  “No, it’s not. I require it in person.”

  “That could be arranged.”

  “Maybe you should write it down for future reference.”

  “Do you think I would forget?” I asked.

  “I just want to be sure.”

  “You’re really desperate for me to ask you out, aren’t you?”

  Nora laughed. It was such a glorious sound. “I don’t know if I’d go so far as to say desperate, but when you do ask, I know what my answer will be.”

  “You do? You’re absolutely certain?”

  “Positive.”

  “And it has to be in person?” I asked.

  “Absolutely. There is no room for compromise.”

  “All right,” I said. “Consider it done. Buckle up, Nora.”

  “Buckle up?”

  “I have to go.”

  “Where?”

  “Mind your own business,” I said.

  Nora laughed again, and I hung up before the sound could keep me on the line any longer. I grabbed my keys, dropped my phone in my pocket, and shrugged into my jacket before locking up the studio and hurrying to my SUV parked in the back lot.

  I drove a little faster than necessary. Several people on the road shot me dirty looks or, in one instance, the middle finger. I was in too good of a mood to let any sour New Yorker spoil my day. I had somewhere to be.