“But still,” Angus mused. “If you really love her, what does it even matter?”
Chapter 32
Quinn put what she believed to be the final touch to Maya’s portrait. She would miss looking at that face, but it was time to wrap things up. It was Wednesday and Quinn still hadn’t heard from Maya. Quinn had wanted to text her, call her, or even go to her apartment and force Maya to tell her to her face that it was all over. But she had some sense left. Pushing Maya was probably not the best idea right now. And the picture she’d made for Maya might say more than all the words Quinn had ready in her head.
Quinn had made two versions of Maya’s portrait. One for the hallways at Acton, the second as a personal gift. She’d finished the official one earlier that week. She was looking at the unofficial one now. At Maya’s outstretched arm. At her smooth leg protruding from the red dress she’d been wearing that day. In the picture, it was now the green of the dress Maya had worn last Saturday, when she’d shone on the dance floor, when she’d had all eyes on her, when she and Quinn had danced the night away in utter bliss.
Quinn peered at the picture, at the glossy patch of skin just above Maya’s left knee. Maybe this work wasn’t finished just yet. She took a deep breath and added one last element.
Quinn heard Griff rummage around in the kitchen and pondered asking for her opinion before sending both portraits to Maya—one for official approval, the other for very different reasons—but Quinn didn’t want to wait any longer. She downloaded the pictures to her phone and texted them to Maya. Then, all she could do was wait. Quinn did go into the kitchen because from the instant she’d pressed ‘Send’, time had slowed down and seconds had begun to feel like long minutes.
“You forgot,” Griff said when Quinn walked in.
“What?” The fact that she didn’t know what she might have forgotten proved Griff’s point.
“I’m interviewing you for the Greenpoint Calendar. For your upcoming show, remember? This thing at the Flashpoint gallery where a bunch of your pictures will be on display and local hipsters as well as art connoisseurs from all five boroughs will marvel at your brilliance.” Griff narrowed her eyes. “I believe even Brooke and Bill Hathaway will make an appearance. As well as all your exes, although let’s hope Morgan doesn’t hear about it.” She shrugged. “But with how she’s all over your Insta, I wouldn’t count on that. Unless she has decided to really move on after your most recent blow-out.”
“Good grief, Griff. What are you on?”
“A very potent cold brew from that new coffee shop across the street.” Griff sighed deeply. “The new barista is cute as fucking hell. Her name’s Roxanne.” She pulled the corners of her mouth all the way down.
“Oh, I see. This isn’t about me at all.”
“She had the audacity to flirt with me,” Griff said.
“You weren’t wearing your T-shirt?” As a joke, Quinn had given Griff a custom-made T-shirt that said ‘No flirting, please’ as a Christmas gift last year.
“I know. Silly me.”
“Are you feeling frisky?” Quinn couldn’t help but grin.
“Must have been all the noises I was subjected to over the weekend. My subconscious must have absorbed them and now, a few days later, I’m paying the price.”
“I’m sorry.” Quinn felt for her phone in the back pocket of her jeans. It hadn’t buzzed yet. “I can pretty much guarantee it won’t happen again.”
“Your guarantee means nothing to me right now.”
“You were bound to feel attracted to another human being at some point. Isn’t your reaction to that going to form part of the book’s premise?”
Griff nodded. “The worst part was that, according to my own rules, I wasn’t allowed to flirt back.”
“You could just tell her what you’re doing.”
Griff shook her head. “I think that would defeat the purpose.”
“Next time you want a fancy coffee, I’ll get it for you. Because that’s what friends do.”
“You’ve been glued to your computer,” Griff said. “I take it that means you haven’t heard from Maya.”
Quinn had a tendency to obsess about work when her love life, or whatever passed for it, wasn’t going how she wanted it to. It was one of the reasons she’d already selected all the photos for the exhibition, although, since about fifteen minutes ago, there was one she very much wanted to add. “Nope,” Quinn said on a dramatic sigh. “I just texted her my work though, so I’m hoping she’ll get in touch. She has to say something, doesn’t she?”
“She will. She just needs some time,” Griff said, as though she knew all about what Maya was thinking just because they’d had a brief night-time chat over the weekend.
“Let’s hope so.” Quinn finally sat. “Shall we do this in the living room, perhaps?” she asked, alluding to the interview.
“Why?” Griff said matter-of-factly. “It’s so cozy in our kitchen. Perfect for an intimate interview with Brooklyn’s up-and-coming.”
“I don’t see why you need to ask me any more questions.” Quinn leaned back in her chair. “You already know everything there is to know about me and my work.”
“It’s not because I volunteer my time for the Greenpoint Calendar that I don’t take the work seriously,” Griff said in a mock-serious tone. “Now, Quinn.” She pressed the record button on her phone. “I’ve had an exclusive preview of the pictures that will be on display. Can you explain why three quarters of the human subjects are women over the age of fifty?”
Chapter 33
After her last class of the day, Maya checked her phone. Two text messages from Quinn awaited her, each containing a picture and no words. At least, Maya thought, if she ever had the opportunity to introduce Quinn to Angus, they would have their flair for the dramatic in common.
She looked at
