Color Me Pretty: A Father's Best Friend Romance

“I do my best.”

Her phone chirped from somewher

e in the kitchen, causing her to look behind her. I frowned when she got up and dug through the purse that she’d draped on the island next to the empty fruit bowl. The sigh escaping her lips made my brows pinch. “Trouble?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Della.”

She walked back over, dropping into her chair with her phone still in hand. “My professor emailed me about an opportunity that she’d brought up months ago. The deadline is this weekend and she needs an answer.”

“What is the opportunity?”

“An art class.”

I waited for her to enlighten me.

She set her phone down. “It’s an art class I’ve been wanting to be part of since sophomore year when the school started offering it. It’s not a regular class, it’s more like an invite-only event that only happens every two years and lasts for a week. They select students based on submissions throughout the year and apparently mine was one of them.”

Pride swept through me. “That’s great, Della. Why do you seem upset by it if you’ve wanted to do it for two years?”

“I just…” She licked her lips, her eyes darting to the phone. “I haven’t been very inspired since Dad passed away. I’m afraid if I go that they’ll be disappointed with what I produce. They bring top artists to evaluate and offer guidance. It’d be embarrassing if they felt they wasted a spot on me.”

“What did I tell you about putting yourself down?”

“You don’t get it, Theo.”

I learned toward her, my food forgotten along with hers. “Then make me.”

She met my gaze. “It’s simple. I don’t feel as though I’m good enough. I mean, my art. I don’t think my art is good enough.”

But that wasn’t what she meant at all. “I know you better than that, Della. Don’t try to bullshit me again.”

She said nothing.

We returned to our food, clearing off our plates in silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but thick. I knew she wanted to say something but wouldn’t let herself.

“You going to tell me what’s on your mind? Can’t say I like seeing the way your brows pinch. The crease is back.” The crease was a tell that something bothered her.

“You don’t want to hear it, Theo.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, eyeing her in disbelief. “Try me.”

“I was thinking that you’re a good man, and that I’m glad you’re in my life.” Her delivery was soft as she looked up at me, her lips neutral as we locked eyes. “I owe you a lot for what you’ve done for me all these years.”

This time, it was me who remained silent.

“That’s all,” she whispered.

Chapter Five

Della

As soon as the door opened from the crowded hallway to the side stairwell, I inhaled a breath of fresh air that wasn’t littered with Chanel perfume, marijuana, or some other odor. Rounding the corner that lead to the first floor of the Freidman Art Center, I stopped in my tracks when three familiar faces appeared directly in my path and blocking me from passing.

“Adele,” Lauren Atwell greeted with the usual tight smile she’d give competition. I used to think it was genuine, but I’d learned better over the years from dancing alongside her.

Jamie Miller and Ophelia Wright were directly beside her, both looking less intimating and more welcoming than their pack leader. I gave them both small smiles, but only Jamie returned it. “Hey, Della.”