Epilogue
Lily
Six months later, Javonte knocks on the studio door with food in one hand and flowers in the other.
I stare at him through the glass before I unlock it. “You have a key.”
“I know.”
“So why are you knocking?”
He lifts the bag. “Because I’m bringing dinner to a business owner at her place of work, and I’m classy.”
I open the door wider. “You also brought flowers.”
“That’s the romantic part.”
“They better not be from a grocery store.”
He steps inside and kisses my cheek. “They’re absolutely from a grocery store.”
I laugh and take them anyway.
The studio’s quiet tonight. No music, no women laughing over paint cups, no Zea walking around with a clipboard and her cell phone. Just me, a half-finished supply order on my laptop, a stack of clean aprons on the counter, and Javonte standing in the middle of the room.
I quit HR last week. I went from elite employee to unemployed by choice, which sounds terrifying until I remember unemployed doesn’t quite describe me. I work all the time now. The difference is that the work’s mine.
Lit with Lily has classes four nights a week, private events on weekends, and a teen workshop Zea takes entirely too much credit for creating. I still do pop-ups when they make sense, but the van’s no longer my whole business with wheels.
Actually, the van is the reason I finally stopped being stubborn.
It broke down halfway to a venue three months ago, with fifteen middle schoolers waiting on the other side of town and me sitting on the shoulder of the road, apologizing to parents while trying not to cry.
Javonte came to get me, and he didn’t say a single word about the studio.
That was smart of him.
By the time the tow truck came, I said it myself.
“I think I’m ready to use the space.”
He looked at me for a second, then nodded. No big smile. No, I told you so. No speech. He got me into his car, handed me the water bottle from his cup holder, and asked if I wanted to stop for food before we went home.
The next day, he gave me the keys.
After that, I made the place mine. The front wall is clay pink because I wanted it warm without making everything look like a baby shower.
The shelves are labeled because Zea and Edie ganged up on me.
The back patio has my paint water setup, which is ugly but functional.
There are student paintings on one wall, a calendar by the counter, and a sign near the door that says Lit with Lily: Paint. Sip. Create.
Javonte sets the food on the table closest to the window. “Did you eat lunch?”
“Yes.”
He looks at me.
“I had pretzels and coffee.”
“That’s not lunch.”
“It was during lunch hours.”
He shakes his head and starts taking containers out of the bag. “That’s not how food works.”
“It’s how entrepreneurship works.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
Javonte watches me set the flowers on the counter. “You like them?”
“They’re pretty.”
“They had some with glitter.”
“I’m proud of you for leaving those where they were.”
“I almost didn’t.”
He smiles and pulls out my chair. I give him a look, but I sit because my feet hurt, and I’m not turning down comfort just to prove a point to a man who already knows I can stand on my own.
He sits across from me and opens the container closest to my elbow. “Your favorite.”
I look down and smile. “You remembered.”
“I remember a lot.”
The way he says it makes my chest warm, but I pick up my fork instead of making a big deal of it.
For a while, we just eat. He tells me about practice and a rookie who talks too much for someone who doesn’t know where to stand on defense.
I tell him about a woman in today’s class who painted one flower, decided it was ugly, painted over the whole canvas, and somehow ended up with the best piece in the room.
“She said she wants to come back next week,” I say.
“That’s good.”
“It is. She looked proud of herself when she left.”
“You love when they’re proud.”
He leans back in his chair, watching me. “You look happy when you talk about it.”
“I am happy.”
The words come out easily. I am happy. Tired, busy, occasionally irritated by shipping costs and booking software, but happy.
“Do you miss HR?” he asks.
I point my fork at him. “Don’t ask ugly questions during a good meal.”
He laughs. “So no.”
“No.”
“Not even a little?”
“I miss company-paid insurance.”
“That’s real.”
“But not the job.” I shake my head.
He nods and keeps eating.
“I still get nervous,” I admit.
“About the business?”
I nod. “Classes are doing well, but that doesn’t mean they always will. Some months are going to be slower. Some ideas won’t work. I know that.”
“But you’ll figure it out..”
I look at him.
“You’ll work too much sometimes,” he says. “You’ll get annoyed when people try to help. You’ll forget lunch and act like coffee’s enough to sustain you. But you’ll catch it quicker now.”
“Because I’m so evolved?”
“Because you have people who will bother you about it.”
I smile.
“You’re not trying to prove the dream is yours by doing every hard part alone anymore.”
I look down at my food.
He reaches across the table and touches my hand. “I’m not saying it like a lecture.”
Our eyes meet. He smiles at me.
I turn my hand over so our fingers can link.
After we finish eating, he throws the containers away while I answer one last email. It’s from a woman asking if she can book a birthday party for her mother, who “cannot paint but loves wine and attention.”
I reply that she will fit right in.
Javonte comes up behind me and kisses me on my neck.
I send the email and close the laptop. “Done.”
“Done done?”
“Done enough.”
He holds out his hand. “Then come here.”
I stand and let him pull me into him. His arms settle around my waist, and mine go around his neck. We sway from side to side.
“You’re proud of me?” I ask.
He looks offended. “Lily.”
“I know. I just like hearing it.”
His face softens. “I’m proud of you.”
“For quitting?”
“For choosing yourself.”
My eyes tingle, but I keep it together because I have already cried in this studio twice this week.
“I’m proud of us too,” I say.
He smiles. “We did okay.”
“We did.”
His hand moves over my back. “You ready to go home?”
I look around the studio one more time. The tables need to be wiped down better. The brushes by the sink are probably not as clean as they should be. I have water to dump.
All of it can wait.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m ready.”
He grabs the trash while I get my bag. I turn off the lights, one switch at a time, until the room settles around us. At the front door, Javonte steps back and lets me lock up.
I turn the key, check the handle, and drop the keys into my purse.
When I look up, he’s watching me.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“That wasn’t a nothing face.”
“It was a 'you're doing good’ face.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling. “Come on before I make you clean something.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
We walk to the car together, his hand warm around mine.
Behind me, Lit with Lily is dark and locked up for the night. Ahead of me, Javonte opens the passenger door and waits, with that smile I know means my night is about to get even better.
I let him open it.
Then I get in, ready to go home.
The End