“But—”
“I can’t,” she said again. “And I swear, it’s not you. I’ve been in love with you a long time. You asking me to move in with you feels like Santa Claus showed up and asked me if I wanted a new Lincoln Electric torch kit and two tons of scrap metal. Of course I want it. But I’m not sleeping with Santa Claus. I can’t take charity from the man I’m in love with. I love it when you play the boss when we’re in bed together, but when we’re not in bed, I need us to be equals. I can’t be in your debt.”
“I get that, I do,” he said. “When I was in my twenties, I lived in a whole series of shitty apartments because I wouldn’t take money from Dad, and I didn’t want to live at home. But you already told me you’re going to be making the same amount at Clover’s nursery as you were at Asher. Does that mean we’re never going to live together?”
She sighed and blew a cloud of smoke all the way up to the moon.
“How about this?” she said. “How about we wait until I sell a sculpture? I only have to sell one and I can afford to pay my fair share of this place for at least a year. Then I can move in and not feel like a gold digger.”
“I only make two-fifty a year. It’s more like a bronze digger.”
She laughed. “You know what I mean.”
“I know what you mean. Okay, it’s a deal. I don’t want to wait but I can. For you I can definitely wait.”
“The Morrison Gallery is doing a big show and a nightly gallery hop the week before and on Christmas. I might sell something. You never know.”
“And then you’ll move in with me?”
“And then I’ll move in with you.”
“You promise?”
“I swear.”
“And you said I can’t buy one of your sculptures?”
She shook her head. “No cheating.”
“Fine. No cheating.”
With her hand in his, he started to pull her back toward the path, back toward the house. He couldn’t wait to get her into bed again and make love to her until morning.
“Wait,” she said. “Look.”
She pointed at the sky and Ian followed her finger to where what appeared to be a small meteor was streaking through the cluster of stars and toward the horizon.
“Make a wish,” she said.
Ian made his wish.
“What did you wish for?” Flash asked.
“For you to sell a sculpture.”
She laughed softly. “You want me to move in that much?”
“I want you to be happy,” he said. “And I know that would make you happy.”
He looked at her and saw tears rimming the edges of her eyes. They glowed white in the moonlight.
“You’re trying to get me into bed, aren’t you?” she asked.
“Is it working?”
“It’s definitely...” Flash took a step back. Her eyes went wide. Too wide.
“What?”