The Proverbial Mr. Universe (26 page)

“She knows I’m wildly attracted to her … at least, I hope.”

“Okay, so there is chemistry between you two?” Amanda inched closer to the edge of her seat and laced her fingers together, as if she was the love guru and the session was about to begin.

“I like to think so …”

“Has she shown you that she’s attracted to you, or said anything to confirm it?”

Nick winced.

“Does she flirt with you?”

“Well, what do you mean by flirting?”

“Have you guys kissed?”

“Well … no.”

“Seriously?”

“Why are you so surprised? I’m not going to be a jerk about this … I mean, I really like her and I don’t want to mess things up. I know she’s been through something and if she needs time to figure things out, then I’m going to have to respect that.”

“God, I’m marrying the wrong brother.”

Dan rolled his eyes. “Oh, stop being such a wimp. Do you want a relationship with this girl or do you want to play Patty Cake?”

Amanda placed her hand in front of Dan’s mouth, letting out a long breath. “How are you two even related?”

“You shouldn’t hold back because it’s safe and you don’t want to ruin what you already have with her.” Her eyes softened. “I get it, but your feelings matter too, Nick. You have to let your actions show your confidence. Be yourself. Show her that you’re serious about this. She’ll see what a genuinely stand-up guy, which I already know you are.”

“Have you told her about …?”

“My issues … no. I’m trying to figure out where I stand in all this before I jump that hurdle.”

“Just be clear with her. If you like her, don’t hide your intentions. Girls sense when a guy is not straight with them, and that’s what usually scares them off.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“I know I am.”

Dan stifled a laugh just as Nick looks down at his watch. “I better go before I’m late for my date. Thanks for breakfast, Mandy.” Nick leaned in to plant a kiss on the top of her head.

“Have a good time on your date … Have fun braiding hair or building sand castles … or whatever girls do with their besties.”

“You’re such an ass.”

“I love you too, brother. Just remember one thing: stop fucking playing Patty Cake.”

“H
ey, Montgomery.”

Finally.

Nick turned to see her behind him, walking down the stairs, heading straight for him.

The light came up from behind her, making the vision of her so angelic. The air lightly lifted her silky hair across her face, and he resisted the urge to push it away. She pulled a strand of hair away from her face, revealing her beautiful elephantine eyes. It seemed could never get enough of that sight. His gaze might have made her uncomfortable because she was the first to break away from his intense stare and hid her blushing cheeks from him.

He was so afraid to utter the words describing how he felt about her. All this time they spent together, he had been plotting, scheming, and contemplating, only to find himself sitting just outside her door. Nick wondered if he would ever manage to turn the doorknob.

“You’re late.” He teasingly looked up from his black, leather-strap watch.

“Technically, I’m not.” She pulled two tickets out of her back pocket with enthusiasm and waved them in the air, smiling brightly like she had beat him at his own game.

“I’ve been in line for the past twenty minutes,” she said with a big smile. “What’s the matter? You thought I stood you up?” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“No, not necessarily.” He paused. “Okay, maybe a little.”

“Come on, Montgomery. Let’s go see what’s so special about this place.”

A particular conversation he had few weeks ago with Olivia brought Nick downtown. Olivia declared that Montreal had nothing to offer, that she lived in this city not by choice. He decided he was going to prove her wrong and show her a city that had so much to offer, so he thought the museum was another good place to show her otherwise.

The Montreal Museum of Fine Arts spanned four buildings and was linked to underground galleries. Each building housed different art. The first pavilion housed world cultures, the second decorative arts and designs, and the last two buildings housed international, Quebec, and Canadian art. He was dumbfounded when she told him that she’d never been to the museum.

“How was that even possible? Where have you been?”

“Okay, funny man, you have to agree with me. It could never compare to any museum in Europe.”

Well, she was right there.

I
nside, Olivia handed him his ticket.

“But I invited you out?”

“It’s okay to let a girl pay from time to time … Don’t worry I won’t think less of you.”

“Alright, Monti, but I got lunch, okay?” He took one ticket out of her hand. “By the way … thank you.”

“You’re welcome. So where do we start?” Olivia held out the museum map.

“We won’t need that. I know my way around like the back of my hand.”

They walked through one room that led to another, like it was some maze. A crowd was taking pictures with their phones and their murmured sounds seemed to be background noise. Then again, Olivia had always made him feel like there was never anyone else in existence. They walked in a room with sculpture scattered all around the large room. Some were displayed in glass cases, but there was one familiar statue at the center of the room.

“I wonder what he’s thinking.” Nick smiled at Olivia.

Olivia frowned. “Whatever it is, he doesn’t seem too happy about it.”

The bronze cast of Rodin’s
The Thinker
sat upon a large, lacquered, black box. It was much smaller in person than in the photographs Nick used to look when he was a kid, before he even aspired to become an artist.

“He’s probably thinking: Rough night. What the heck did I do last night, and where are my clothes?”

Nick smiled. “Rodin originally created the statue to represent Dante, the author of the Divine Comedy, but it came to represent the creative mind at work. This is how I start my brainstorm.”

Olivia smiles back. “Naked and constipated?”

He laughed.

“D
o you recognize her?” He stepped aside for her to get a better view. It was less crowded where they stood. Only a handful of art students were in the corner, scribbling away in their notebooks.

“Is that what I think it is? Tissot?”

He silently fixed his eyes on her, taking in the large rectangle canvas of a woman, wearing a black feathered hat and crinoline dress, nestled inside the bottom branch of a tree whose autumn leaves were just about to fall off.

“Yes, ma’am. James Jacque Joseph Tissot, titled
October 1877
.” He stuck his hands further in his denim pockets.

“I didn’t know this was here.” Her face glowed more beautifully then he ever anticipated.

When she first mentioned to him that Tissot was one of her favorite painters, he was surprised that she’d never been to the Montreal Museum des Beaux Art because if she had, she would certainly be aware that the artist had a permanent residence there.

“She’s so beautiful.”

“Yes, she is.” His eyes remained on Olivia, but she wasn’t aware he was watching her. “With art, I believe anything created with profound heart is captured compulsively beautifully.”

She tilted her head. “So are you going to tell me more?”

“What makes you think I know more?”

She smiled like she knew better. “You’re the connoisseur. I’m only the spectator.”

He nodded toward the painting. “The woman in the painting was Tissot’s mistress and muse. She was known to him as mavourneen, an Irish term meaning my love, my darling.”

She glanced back at the one-hundred-and-thirty-eight-year-old canvas. “What happened to them?”

“Their story had a sad ending. Kathleen, Tissot’s mistress, overdosed on laudanum, saving her lover from the pain of watching her slowly die of tuberculosis. After her death, Tissot was broken-hearted and started a whole separate career as a religious painter.”

“How depressing.” Olivia looked back at the painting. “Who can imagine something so breathtaking can have such sad history tied to it.” She glanced at him.

“I never heard anything so romantic.”

“W
hat surprises me about you is you seem to have this optimism. How’s that possible after everything that’s happened to you?” Olivia said to Nick after he confided in her about the last relationship he had.

In reality Olivia didn’t know half of it. He had to leave out the essential reason why Chloe left. Not that it was right in keeping it from her, the only thing that prevented him to fully reveal himself was good old fashion fear … He’d lost so much already. He had to be certain that he could trust her because the moment she knew the truth, there was a possibility that she’d walk away … because they always do. The only difference this time was he wasn’t sure if he could survive it.

He’d be completely honest with her … someday … just not today.

“Life goes on.” He shrugged. “Hate can leave a long, nasty stain on your heart if you let it. You need to let go of the venom if you want to forget someone.” He glanced back at Olivia. Her eyes were distant. Maybe she was even thinking about her own situation.

“You make it sound so easy.”

“No, it’s never easy, but there’s a short supply on infinities in life. You need to ask yourself how you want to live them out. It pretty much sucks if you’re going to wallow in self-pity … and for what? For a person who pretty much doesn’t give a damn about you to begin with?

“Have you ever seen her again?”

“Yeah, we cross paths now and then.”

She must have seen something in his eyes, because she asked, “Do you ever wish that you could rewind your life, go back to that moment where you’re about to make the biggest mistake of your life. I know I do.”

He sighed. “No, I wouldn’t change a thing. My time with Chloe was not something I regret. I’m wiser now to know I should never go back to the one who broke me. Sure, I only had myself to blame, call it poor judgment or rushing into it too quickly, but I came to realize that even though it was a lousy relationship, something good came out of it. It shaped me into who I am today. It put me on this path … and here I am with you.” He smiled.