I enjoyed her sense of humor. It astounded me how difficult it seemed to be for her to find a suitable date. If I’d had any desire to go out with anyone, Isla would be at the top of my list.
“What are you doing with these pictures anyway? Selling them to the New York Times?”
I laughed. “I don’t think the New York Times is coming to me for cartoon submissions.”
I left out the fact that there had been a time when they might have come to me for photographs I’d taken, but that was another life—one I wasn’t interested in bringing into my new one. But I couldn’t ignore that she’d opened a door, and I’d be dumb not to walk through it.
“Would that bother you, though?” I asked.
“What? Having my disastrous dating life ridiculed in a famous newspaper?” She was smiling, but her words made my chest ache a little anyway.
“You are definitely not the one who’s a disaster.”
She shrugged. “Eh, that’s debatable. Maybe I’m just less obvious about it than the guys I’ve been meeting.”
“Well, from my perspective, you’re not the one who deserves any ridicule. But I can’t deny that these would make for a pretty funny cartoon.”
Scrunching up her face, she looked across the table at my open book. “Maybe. Still. I’m fine with you drawing them because I get a kick out of them. But as far as other people seeing them—I think I’d prefer to keep my dignity intact.”
Well, there was that. I tried to find solace in the fact that she was okay with me still drawing her dates. Creating them took me back to how drawing used to be for me—before the need to prove myself. Before chasing success took over my every waking moment.
Hopefully I’d find inspiration soon. I needed to come up with something I could use on my paper’s social media accounts. Or maybe my creativity would shrivel up and die, my soul would become a deserted wasteland, and life would cease to be worth living. Either was equally plausible.
She heaved a deep sigh before standing up. “I’d better go. I have an early morning meeting tomorrow.”
I nodded. “I should probably head out soon too,” I said, though I made no move to do so.
Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she looked down at me. “See you next week?”
“Definitely. And I promise not to miss any piercings.”
She smiled. “You better not.”
I watched her go, wishing for the first time since my life imploded that I wasn’t better off alone.
Chapter Six
ISLA
I tried to appear engaged, but I was failing miserably. I stared absently at a painting surrounded by red velvet ropes, but other than the fact that it was in a museum, I would have no way of knowing the piece of art was anything special. I could’ve created it in kindergarten if I’d been a more creative child.
The small canvas was only about two feet square and was some sort of abstract work that consisted of three shades of blue. I glanced to my right at Olivia, who was jotting some notes down in a book.
“I have a question. How can you tell what’s a real work of art and what was done by a toddler?”
She stopped writing and raised an eyebrow at me. “Huh?”
I knew the comment made me sound judgmental and unappreciative of fine art, but it was purely asked out of ignorance.
“I mean…I get that these people are all famous, but if I saw this hanging on Kaitlynn’s fridge, I would’ve thought Gracie made it.”
Liv still seemed confused. “Well, yeah, she wouldn’t have hung a famous painting on her fridge, so I’d think her first grader did it too if I saw it there.”
“You know what I mean, don’t you?”
Liv stuck her notebook in her purse and put her pen in her ponytail before laughing.
“I totally do. Who am I kidding? This class ends in three weeks, and I have no idea what makes good art.”
“I didn’t even know you were interested in art,” I whispered as we walked around the corner.
She shrugged, and her wide-neck green shirt slid off one shoulder, revealing the top of the tattoo I tried to stop her from getting when she graduated high school—though I really had no idea why. It was a quote from a Shel Silverstein poem our mom used to read to us as a kid, so I knew she’d never regret it.
“I’m not interested in art,” she said. “But I can draw well enough, and I