“Great. Have you ever been to the Met?”
“No.” she shook her head as she turned sideways to look at him gripping the brush by the handle and began tearing through her hair. She noted the expression of horror on his face as she tore out chunks of her knots with the brush.
“What are you doing?”
“Brushing my hair. We made rat’s nests in the bed.”
“Give me that,” he took the brush from her and turned her around, smacking her nude backside with the back of the brush.
“Ow,” she rubbed her bottom.
“My mom’s hair is quite curly, almost wiry. She used to make me brush her hair when I was a boy. Hell, she still does on occasion. She’s spoiled. I know you’re supposed to start at the ends and work your way up, not rip it from your scalp.”
“Isaias,” she chuckled as he very gently worked through her knots. “My mother toughed up my scalp as a kid. She once threatened to shave my head bald because I was always a mess.”
“My sister has very short hair. I’m certain it’s short because my mother used to beat her with a brush for her tangles.”
“What is her name?”
“Enia” he said with a smile to his voice as he worked through her hair. “We are very close. We share a lot of secrets. I’ve already told her all about you. She’s currently in the UK deciding whether or not the man she is with is the one she wants to marry. She cannot decide if she loves him or if she’s simply feeling the pressure of the family to settle down.”
She had her head tilted backwards as he set the brush down and began massaging her head in soft sweeping motions. He had gotten her tangles out with relative ease.
“Is there such pressure to get married?”
“There is. Our family is very traditional. My grandparents have been together seventy years. We do a family reunion each year and the first question out of every auntie’s mouth is when you will be getting married and when can they expect a baby. It’s worse for Enia because she’s a woman but I will be forty by the next reunion. My sister is confident all eyes will be on me.”
She giggled at his words, “you should do something incredibly scandalous for your fortieth.”
He laughed, the sound echoing off the shower tiles as he wrapped his arms around her middle and hugged her tight. “I can never top Joaquim’s thirtieth when he brought two hookers with him. His mother was furious with him. There was more skin than clothing showing. My grandmother was terrified my grandfather would have a stroke.”
She laughed as he turned her in his embrace. “Isaias, I haven’t laughed as much as I have in the last week in years. Thank you.”
He grinned, “I aim to please.”
“I’m very glad you did not turn out to be a stuck-up asshole.”
“I am very glad you crashed my date.”
“Are we really going to go to the Met?”
“Yes. I will take you to the Met, we will go for a stroll around Central Park and then we’ll head home. We should be back by dinner time. First though, we need to have breakfast and get dressed.”
She blinked, “I don’t have clothes. I don’t want to go to the Met in the dress I wore to dinner and dancing last night.”
He laughed and hugged her, “did you not look in the bag?” He reached behind her and shut the water off and then motioned to the bags by the door of the bathroom. “I told you, everything you need is here. I had my PA call Janka to get your sizes. Everything you could possibly need is there.”
“You think of everything, don’t you.” She questioned quietly staring at him.
“I wanted our date to be special, but I also wanted it to be a surprise. If I’d asked you to pack an overnight bag, it might have spoiled the surprise.”
She cupped his cheek. “I like you very much, Isaias Machado.”
“Good.” He kissed her nose. “Now. Let’s go start our day.”
Liesl never felt more ready.
They toured around the Metropolitan Museum of Art and Liesl was breathless.
“You know someday your art could be here.”
“Oh gosh, no.” She stared at him incredulously. “These are the masters.” She stared at a Van Gogh. “His cypress paintings are divine.”
“You are very talented in your own right.”
“Not comparable to Van Gogh,” she giggled at his stern expression. “Isaias, my art may as well be stick-figures compared to this.”
“Not true. Your art speaks to people, Liesl. I heard the conversations you had at your show. People feel your art. They get lost in the emotions you convey. The painting I bought years ago, for example, brings me to a relaxing place. When I’ve had a day where everything has gone wrong, I can sit and stare at the painting and feel the calm surround me.”
“Really?” she eyed him curiously.
“Definitely. I’m not feeding you a line, Liesl. I already had you in my bed. I don’t need to feed you bullshit to get you back there. My cock already has you ready to jump back in.”
“Oh,” she slapped his arm as he chuckled naughtily.
“What is about the painting which makes you feel calm?”
“When I was a teenager, my parents and I went on our first family vacation. We had only been back with our parents about a year or so. I would have been twelve or almost thirteen. We went to this park to go camping. Sidenote,” he grinned at her, “my mother discovered during this week how much she loathes the outdoors and camping. She got eaten alive by mosquitos and a snake crawled into her sleeping bag while she was in it.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
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