favor.”
He stopped walking and pulled me back to him. “She is NOT doing this as a favor. Catherine could care less about me. In truth, we barely know each other. When I brought you here, I took a big risk, not knowing what she would say about your work. But I was right. She loved them. And that’s because your paintings are beautiful.”
He touched my face, something I realized he did often, mostly because I could never look at him when my vulnerability bled through. I felt too self-conscious. But Paul didn’t let me hide or shy away. He treated me with care, knowing just how to prove his devotion. Small touches. Genuine smiles. His eyes were honest, unable to lie to me. Their intense green bore into mine.
Faith. Paul Macione had faith in me.
“ They’re perfect,” he said. “She’s being honest with you.”
Still unsure, but trying to be positive, I nodded.
After we left, Paul took me to the New Orleans Museum of Art. When we walked through the doors, he fell behind letting me lead. Everything was quiet and it was easy to lose myself in this place. My mind shut down and I took in the lighting, the placements, the attention to detail. Someone loved this museum greatly. I could do this, I thought. How much fulfillment would I have from running my own museum? But it was a big dream. Becoming the director of an Art Museum was no small feat.
Paul followed me from room to room, but let me have my space. I’d find him reading a pamphlet or trying to analyze a sculpture. He looked sexy studying the bronze statues—the way his jaw set and his eyes narrowed. I walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around his middle. My forehead landed on his back. “Thank you,” I whispered.
“ You’re welcome,” he said, turning and giving me his bashful smile. “Is this something you’d like to do? Work in a museum?”
“ Absolutely,” I said as we walked towards the exit. “That would be a dream. When I first chose this major, I’d looked all over the country, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Montana, anywhere, trying to find as many museums as I could. Hoping that when the time came one of them would be hiring.”
“ Which was your favorite?”
I shrugged. “One in Washington and another in Oregon. They aren’t hiring though. I already checked.”
“ You’ll still get to live that dream.”
“ How do you know?”
“ I see it in your eyes. You aren’t going to settle. And I won’t let you.”
Paul saw me. He actually saw me. Never before had I felt so validated. I threaded my arm through his and relished the kiss he gave the top of my head.
After we left the museum we drove around in his car. The music was low, not interrupting our conversations. He told me about his job, what he loved about it, what he hated. He talked to me about his goals and what he hoped for the future. He told me all about his family. He only had one brother, but his extended family was large. Aunts, Uncles, cousins. They were many. His grandparents had immigrated from Italy, bringing most of their family with them. He spoke of them with pride, chuckling as he described their loud voices and over the top mannerisms. It was obvious they were close. Loving. I wondered if I’d ever get to meet them.
I told him about my graduation plans. It was only a few weeks away, and now that it was here, I didn’t know what to do with my degree. My parents weren’t much help. Every time I mentioned it to them it was always, “Well, why didn’t you get a business degree like Lucas? Look at him. See how successful he is?” My brother wasn’t that successful. Happy and content, yes, but he wasn’t a high paid CEO.
Paul understood my doubt, but assured me that following my heart was better than following the money. He’d gone where he could make money, and more often than not was stressed from the demands of his job.
I took this as an opportunity to mention Florida again. He hadn’t brought it up, but I knew he’d at least been thinking about
He stopped walking and pulled me back to him. “She is NOT doing this as a favor. Catherine could care less about me. In truth, we barely know each other. When I brought you here, I took a big risk, not knowing what she would say about your work. But I was right. She loved them. And that’s because your paintings are beautiful.”
He touched my face, something I realized he did often, mostly because I could never look at him when my vulnerability bled through. I felt too self-conscious. But Paul didn’t let me hide or shy away. He treated me with care, knowing just how to prove his devotion. Small touches. Genuine smiles. His eyes were honest, unable to lie to me. Their intense green bore into mine.
Faith. Paul Macione had faith in me.
“ They’re perfect,” he said. “She’s being honest with you.”
Still unsure, but trying to be positive, I nodded.
After we left, Paul took me to the New Orleans Museum of Art. When we walked through the doors, he fell behind letting me lead. Everything was quiet and it was easy to lose myself in this place. My mind shut down and I took in the lighting, the placements, the attention to detail. Someone loved this museum greatly. I could do this, I thought. How much fulfillment would I have from running my own museum? But it was a big dream. Becoming the director of an Art Museum was no small feat.
Paul followed me from room to room, but let me have my space. I’d find him reading a pamphlet or trying to analyze a sculpture. He looked sexy studying the bronze statues—the way his jaw set and his eyes narrowed. I walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around his middle. My forehead landed on his back. “Thank you,” I whispered.
“ You’re welcome,” he said, turning and giving me his bashful smile. “Is this something you’d like to do? Work in a museum?”
“ Absolutely,” I said as we walked towards the exit. “That would be a dream. When I first chose this major, I’d looked all over the country, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Montana, anywhere, trying to find as many museums as I could. Hoping that when the time came one of them would be hiring.”
“ Which was your favorite?”
I shrugged. “One in Washington and another in Oregon. They aren’t hiring though. I already checked.”
“ You’ll still get to live that dream.”
“ How do you know?”
“ I see it in your eyes. You aren’t going to settle. And I won’t let you.”
Paul saw me. He actually saw me. Never before had I felt so validated. I threaded my arm through his and relished the kiss he gave the top of my head.
After we left the museum we drove around in his car. The music was low, not interrupting our conversations. He told me about his job, what he loved about it, what he hated. He talked to me about his goals and what he hoped for the future. He told me all about his family. He only had one brother, but his extended family was large. Aunts, Uncles, cousins. They were many. His grandparents had immigrated from Italy, bringing most of their family with them. He spoke of them with pride, chuckling as he described their loud voices and over the top mannerisms. It was obvious they were close. Loving. I wondered if I’d ever get to meet them.
I told him about my graduation plans. It was only a few weeks away, and now that it was here, I didn’t know what to do with my degree. My parents weren’t much help. Every time I mentioned it to them it was always, “Well, why didn’t you get a business degree like Lucas? Look at him. See how successful he is?” My brother wasn’t that successful. Happy and content, yes, but he wasn’t a high paid CEO.
Paul understood my doubt, but assured me that following my heart was better than following the money. He’d gone where he could make money, and more often than not was stressed from the demands of his job.
I took this as an opportunity to mention Florida again. He hadn’t brought it up, but I knew he’d at least been thinking about
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