Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 116759 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116759 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
I think Lily just didn’t want to answer any leading questions about my presence.
Before heading to my studio, I bought us a coffee from the shop across the street from Lily’s flat, discussing the book I’d already read the first few chapters of. Lily grew more animated as she declared the next three books were even better than the first.
We made our way around the corner onto Glengyle Terrace across from the Meadows.
“It’s strange to think I’ve been coming to this studio for two years and never bumped into you. I’m a little annoyed about it, to be honest.” I grinned before sipping my coffee.
Lily chuckled, rubbing sleepily at her makeup-free eyes. “Fate wanted our meeting to be a wee bit more dramatic, it seems.”
I eyed her. “You’re sure you want to come help? You could go back to bed. You’ve had hardly any sleep.”
“I want to,” she insisted. “I’m curious.”
Nodding, I led her halfway down the terrace before stopping at one of the townhouses.
“This is it?” Lily asked incredulously.
I led her up the steps. “This is it.” I opened the main door and led her upward to the top floor of the building.
“The truth is an art studio is considered commercial, so it’s more expensive to rent. I found a light-filled one bedroom flat for cheaper instead.” Turning the key in the lock, I strode into the kitchen slash living space. The bedroom and bathroom were off the kitchen.
Lily stepped inside, eyes wide as she sipped her coffee.
The large living area had a ton of natural light not only from the large bay window but from the large window by the kitchen too. The only piece of furniture was a leather sofa, worn but comfortable, easels of varying sizes, and my ladder for the larger pieces. Pots of paint and my painting tools laid scattered by the work I was in the middle of.
Lily stepped toward the painting. It was in the early stages so you could only just start to see the image of the bridges at South Queensferry appearing through the paint. “I can’t wait to see it finished,” she said, admiring it quietly.
Her genuine appreciation for my work made me feel better than the one hundred positive comments I’d gotten on last week’s Reel.
“The packing room is this way.”
Lily followed me into the bedroom that didn’t have a bed but was filled with boxes of prints and packing material.
Pulling out my phone, I ran through the orders with her, picking out the prints we needed to pack. I had an address label maker set up in the corner that I could use through my phone. We got into a rhythm of packing, while my ego grew to unimaginable sizes at Lily’s oohing and aahing over different paintings I’d created.
“Oh.” She breathed as I handed her a print of my painting, The Vennel. It was an iconic spot in Edinburgh. Many a photograph had been taken of the castle from the top of the Vennel Steps because of the way the castle towered over the old buildings, the Victorian lamppost situated in just the right place.
Last winter, there was frost in the air and on the ground. You could see it sparkling on the lamppost glass. As the sun was setting, I’d started taking photographs at different angles. A couple, oblivious to me, passed. She had stopped at the top of the steps to take a photograph while he ventured down the first flight. He turned back to her and held out his hand to help her down the icy staircase. I’d taken the photograph of them and captured the adoration on his face when he looked at her.
Afterward, I’d returned to the studio and began work on a painting that attempted to catch the romance in one of Edinburgh’s most romantic spots. It was one of my bestsellers.
“How much?” Lily looked up at me.
“Twenty-five pounds.”
“Done.”
Realizing she wanted to buy it, I smiled so big, I probably looked insane. “You’re not buying a thing.” I pulled another copy from the stack and handed it to her. “It’s yours.”
“I have to pay for it.”
“Consider it a wage for helping me this morning.”
“Really?” Her hazel eyes were bright with joy.
Well, that could get addictive quickly, I thought with slight alarm. Because in that moment, making Lily happy felt like a bit of a kink.
Bloody hell.
I looked away. “Of course.”
“Thank you.” She wrapped an arm around me, giving me a squeeze.
Incapable of ignoring said gesture, I pulled her more tightly into my side and kissed the side of her head. “You’re welcome.”
A few seconds later, after she’d set aside the print like it was made of bone china, Lily opined, “I think you should seriously consider this as a career, Sebastian. I don’t know if you realize how talented you are. How you look at a canvas and imagine what you then bring to life by flicking and scraping paint around on it … it’s kind of genius.”