Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 96512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“Yeah, painting is quite solitary, but then again, it’s really not. At least it never feels lonely. Quite the opposite, actually. I can lose myself in my studio because I’m so completely in the work, if that makes sense?” She talks passionately, and she comes to life when she’s describing the process.
“Yeah, it makes complete sense,” I say.
“Do you wish it could be full-time?” Byron asks. “I remember you at school, and art seemed to be who you were.”
Juniper takes a big breath. “Honestly, I’m not sure. I’m not a kid anymore. Life can’t be one thing. And I might fall out of love with it if I had to make a living from painting. Would I feel pressure to create, you know? Maybe if I were some trust-fund kid who didn’t have to worry about the water bill, it would be different.”
“I get that,” I say. “I love parts of my industry. The creativity. The passion. The life that it creates in people. It’s the show-business side that I hate. The pretense. The image. The packaging. Sometimes, it takes the shine off of things.”
Juniper laughs, and I can’t help but smile. “You’re a music industry executive. Surely, the image and the packaging are what sells records. Isn’t that what you’re trying to do?”
“I’d probably be more financially successful if that’s what I loved. It’s not about the money for me. Not anymore.”
Juniper doesn’t say anything. She just nods.
“Maybe that’s why music works for you, Fisher, and why art works for you, Juniper,” Byron says. “Money isn’t the primary consideration for either of you.”
Is it me, or is Byron trying to matchmake now by pointing out things we have in common?
“Still going to introduce you to some people if I can,” I say.
Juniper smiles awkwardly, like she doesn’t want to expect anything of me. She’s so humble. I’m used to seeing the humble act. The public likes nothing more than a successful, super talented artist to act like they’re working a day job at Duane Reade. Often, it’s the ones who come across as humble on the chat-show circuit who are the biggest monsters.
But with Juniper, there’s nothing fake about her modesty. None of it is for show. Maybe it’s because she’s never made it big. It makes me want to know more. I want to know everything about her.
The four of us fall into easy conversation. I’m used to the dynamic when it’s Byron, Rosey, and me, but with Juniper, it doesn’t feel off-balance. It’s the opposite. Somehow, she fits in like it’s always been the four of us. She teases Byron, just like any of us would. She laughs at Rosey’s take on the world. There’s no pretense. No guards up.
And when I have her attention, everything falls away, and it’s like nothing else matters.
SEVEN
Juniper
I’m pretty sure tonight will go down as one of my favorite evenings of my life that doesn’t involve my daughter. Great food, great wine, and some of the very best company. And I’m getting a ride home after I snagged a ride on the employee bus on the way up here.
“I had a really good time tonight,” Fisher says from where he’s sitting next to me in the driver’s seat.
I can’t remember the last time a man drove me home after a… not that we’ve been on a date.
“I was just thinking the exact same thing. And thank you for bringing me home. You really didn’t have to. It’s just on the left, in the gap between the trees.”
He clicks on the turn signal of Byron’s truck, which he’s borrowing, although there’s no one else on this road, and then he turns into my driveway.
“It’s my pleasure. And anyway, Rosey would have never forgiven me if I hadn’t.”
I laugh. “Yeah, I think tonight was a setup. I didn’t know you were going to be at dinner.”
He chuckles and glances at me, a crackle of electricity sparking between us. “Me neither. But I’m really pleased you were.”
His expression makes me think that he’s been waiting his entire life to spend an evening in my company. There’s something intoxicating about being with a person so interested in me. I can’t remember any of the guys I’ve dated—not even Riley’s dad—being so focused on me.
“Me too.”
“It’s good to hear the stories of Byron when he was younger. It’s strange to think of him growing up here, in Star Falls. He’s so rooted in New York for me. I guess because that’s the only place I’ve ever known him.”
“How did you two meet?” I ask.
“We met over a decade ago at business school. There were six of us who were tight. We’re still tight.”
“Like a pack of business school grads.”
He laughs. “Kinda.”
“Well, now you know your friend a little better. You know the Star Falls part of him.”