“I’ve lost interest in going to the museum. You’re welcome to still go.”
“Because I didn’t accept your apology?”
“Something changed, Ben. At first, I thought it was because I had to leave the way I did, but I said I was sorry. If that isn’t good enough, then there’s no point in our continuing this…this…whatever it was. Flirtation.”
I stepped around her and rested my hands on her shoulders. “I didn’t say I accepted your apology, because there was no reason for you to be sorry. Something came up. You had to leave. I understand. That’s it.”
“You’re acting different.”
“I’m not. I’d really like to go to the museum with you. Hell, I’d like to go anywhere with you. Can we please just do that?”
She stared into my eyes long enough that I expected her to turn me down. “Okay.” I wished her voice conveyed more enthusiasm, but at least she still wanted to go. I took her hand, and we walked the rest of the way to the farmhouse.
I loved the feel of her hand in mine. Honestly, I just loved the feel of her. The warmth that spread throughout my body was almost enough to make me forget what I’d seen last night. Almost.
16
Tara
There were many museums in Florence. So many, in fact, that visiting them became overwhelming and, to some, repetitious.
“God, Tara, not another one,” I remembered Penelope complaining when I dragged her, Ava, Aine, and Quinn to Museo Nazionale di San Marco. Once inside, though, her attitude had changed, mainly because this wasn’t as much a museum as a step back in time.
Rather than galleries, there were thirty small rooms, called cells, in the convent where Fra Angelico and his disciples had painted beautiful frescoes from the New Testament. My favorite was the Annunciation fresco on top of the staircase that led to the dormitories. Its intricacies took my breath away.
It depicted the archangel Gabriel visiting the Virgin Mary, but rather than indoors and with Mary enthroned like so many other Gothic paintings of the same theme, in this, they were outdoors.
I looked over at Ben, who instead of looking at the fresco, was studying me.
“Tell me why you love this so much.”
I felt my cheeks flush. “Are you bored?”
He cocked his head. “Not even a little.” He stepped behind me and put his hands on my shoulders. “I want to see it through your eyes. Tell me why you love it,” he repeated.
“Some say the Annunciation marked the transition from the Gothic period into the Renaissance. The spatial awareness Fra Angelico achieved is unlike any other iteration. Look at how ethereal they are. And Gabriel’s wings.” I sighed. “They are so magnificent. I wish I could paint like that.”
“Do you? Paint that is?”
I nodded. “You could call it that. I certainly don’t have a fraction of Fra Angelico’s talent. I dabble.”
“What do you like to paint?”
I stepped away from the fresco and walked in the direction of the libraries. “Right now I’m obsessed with painting Valentini. It seems everywhere I look, the view is more breathtaking than the last.” Oddly, this seemed to surprise Ben. “So far I’ve only done sketches.”
“I’d love to see them.”
“Why?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“They’re just sketches.”
“So, why not show them to me, then?”
I shook my head. “Too insecure, I suppose.”
“I’d bet you are far more talented than you give yourself credit for.”