He’s never been to my studio before; not many people have. The old storage warehouse was built in the late 1800s and was part of a manufacturing company’s property. After they went out of business, it sat empty until an investor swooped in and decided to refurbish it for residential use.

The unit I’m renting is one of the largest, at a little over two thousand square feet, and has an open floor plan that was advertised as a studio apartment with a bathroom and kitchen. Personally, I would not have rented it if I had planned on living here since there is no actual bedroom. The windows at the top of the tall ceilings that let in tons of glorious natural light during the day, unfortunately, let in the same amount of light at night from the streetlamps lining the block. But the location and lighting were perfect when I thought I would only be using the space for work. Then, a few months ago, I ended up moving in here, and getting a good night’s sleep since then has been a rarity. Nevertheless, I’m making the best of it for the time being.

“Have you been staying here?” he asks with his brows knitted tightly when he sees my bed, which is half-hidden behind the stack of moving boxes I haven’t bothered unpacking.

“I have been, yes, but once the condo sells or Matthew buys me out of my half of it, I’ll move.”

“We didn’t add that into the papers you had me draw up.”

“He and I have a verbal agreement.”

“Francisca—”

“It’s fine, Phillip,” I cut him off, and he gives me a disapproving look but doesn’t say more about it. Instead, he tucks his hands into the pockets of his slacks and wanders across the room toward the painting I just finished.

“Is this your current project?”

“I actually just finished that one right before you arrived.”

“It’s beautiful. You’re very talented.”

“Thank you,” I say quietly, as the compliment seems to wrap itself around my windpipe.

When I started painting, my parents and husband thought I was wasting my time. They were sure that no one would buy pretty floral paintings. Then I sold my first piece, and my second. Soon after that, I was getting offers for commissioned pieces that cost thousands of dollars and I was able to quit my job to start painting full time. Most days, I feel like I’m living a dream because I am. Painting is something I’ve always loved doing. I just had no idea I would be able to turn it into a lucrative business.

“What time is Matthew set to arrive?”