Page 119 of Tears of Ink

Before I head back to the outhouse to bang my head against the wall for not checking to see if I myself was supposed to be making anything, let alone the students, I head to the ballroom.

This room is just beyond anything I could ever have imagined. With its arched white and gilt roof, to the double staircase which leads down with marble stairs from a long mezzanine gallery, to its black and white tiled marble floor, it oozes classical Renaissance splendour. The room is filled with spectacular pieces already. Truthfully, it’s like walking through the Victoria and Albert Museum. Pedestals dot along the tiled floors holding Renaissance busts and vases. They are going to have to be moved.

My plan is to have the canvases the kids are creating on easels, natural and relaxed dotted throughout the room, creating a fluid movement which will send people to where the orchestra will be positioned.

I grin as I slide my phone out and call Damien at Whitlocks. “Is it too early?”

There’s a chuckle from the other end. “Lucky for you we are unpacking a new shipment.”

“Should I be jealous?”

There’s a louder chuckle. “No, not when Frances hasn’t stopped talking about the Bowsley Ball and how Sky Arts are going to be there.”

I rub at my face. This is going to be awful. There will be a ballroom with no centrepiece.

“I was ringing for a favour actually.”

“For you, anything right now.”

“I need one of those elaborate gilt frames. You know the type, something monstrous and gaudy.”

“You do?”

“Uh, yes.”

“What’s it for?”

I chuckle. “You’ll see next week. Listen, can I text you the measurements? If I give you my number, will you send me yours quick?”

“Definitely.”

I reel off my number and then hang up, turning to find Eli standing behind me. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing.” I shrug.

His eyes gaze about the room and I turn to take in the sight with him. I want to move over and hold his hand.

I’ve never wanted to hold someone’s hand before. It’s a first in the life of Faith Hitchin.

I don’t. If we could get through these next few days without a trauma with his family, it would make the end of this… this… whatever this is, so much better.

My eyes greedily slide over him. I’ll be walking away in a few days. Summer over, four weeks of my life gone.

Four weeks in which I have changed. I’ve broken my rules, knowing that it was going to hurt. It’s the best thing I’ve ever done.

“Why are you grinning like a crazy person?” He steps closer and despite the fact his family are lurking, despite the fact someone under the roof is clearly snitching on us, he kisses me, right under the domed and gold ceiling.

I love you.

The words I’ve never spoken before dart into my head.

I don’t love him.

It’s just four weeks?

Just a fling.

But his hands cradle my face, his thumbs sweeping across my cheeks and my heart beats fast and erratic.