What Happens In Vegas

Fifteen

F I F T E E N

EVANGELINE

It took me forever to go to sleep last night after playing my argument with Beckett over and over in my head. I did feel a bit guilty for slightly accusing him of getting me drunk to marry me because, let's be honest, he stands to gain nothing from marrying me especially nothing financially (not that he even needs it). If anything, everyone in his life is going to think I married him for his money. I brushed off my negative thoughts and pulled on a sweater over a pair of track shorts, exiting my safe haven. Everything was silent in Beckett's condo which slightly worried me; I thought he was going to be here...

I closed the door and saw a piece of paper stuck to the front of it; Beckett had written me a note, that's sweet. Ew, what? Since when did I talk like that?

Angel,

Unfortunately, the office has become a mad house in my long absence, so I had to go in early this morning, but I'll be back in time for lunch and we can eat whatever you like! To keep you occupied I thought you might like what I've set up for you in the living room; you said that you've been out of practice, so why not start again?  I hope you like it. 

Beckett

"Oh, God, what did you do, Beckett?" I gingerly crept to the living room, slightly frightened by what might be there, but I stopped dead in my tracks with the scene before my eyes. He did all this for me? Who is this guy?! A large tarp had been laid out with several blank canvases, an easel, a sketch book, and every color of paint under the sun with brushes too! He remembered that I painted. I covered my mouth with my hands, dropping the letter to the hardwood floor; I'd always wanted to have a space where I could paint like this. I approached the setup and ran my hands along the paints, smiling. Even after our fight he still did something he knew would bring me happiness; that says a lot about him. I turned my attention to one of the canvases in front that had a yellow sticky note on it, no doubt from Beckett again.