𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑⁰¹ʰᵉᵐᵐⁱⁿᵍˢ✓

²⁶kang

clementine

"Here, take my number and email, contact me if there's any problem," I hand a small, white business card to a Nick Richmar, a man around his forties donning a greyish suit and greying hair, becoming sparse from the top.

He huffs, aggressively taking the card and shutting the backseat car door. He doesn't say anything else, only carrying a hot expression of furrowed brows and pouted lips as he makes his way to the driver's side and gets in.

Quickly, he revs the engine up and drives away.

As I watch, I still can't believe him. I scoff, never having met anybody with such a childlike temper.

He had such an arrogant persona, I couldn't believe he's Mrs Richmars son. She's the most elegant person I know. She wears lavish suits, pearl necklaces, and a soft smile always on her pruny face.

She always spoke lightly, as if her voice was a feather, and she so delicately touched things like they could break under any harder pressure. She always gave a kiss on Helene's cheek before she bid her goodbye and was known to gift her friends paintings from Ackerman's Arts as she was a regular.

She's highly known amongst the studio and we knew she had two sons, though we'd never met them. Now that I have met the elder, it's taken me completely by surprise.

When he called and said he was a minute away, he sounded like a child amidst a tantrum. And when he pulled up in front of the studio, he almost bumped his car with the one parked in front.

His heavy footsteps were the ones to tell me he had arrived and I quickly put my call with my dad on hold.

He wanted to go straight to taking the painting and driving off, not really interested in what I had to say on how he should handle the painting. As a result, he took the painting on one hand, opened the backseat, and shoved the painting inside, letting it awkwardly sit on the car floor.

I cringed at the way he held the painting, hoping it hadn't damaged the painting in any way. Though, that would be his loss since he'd have to pay if it did get damaged.

I made my way back inside the studio and fetched my belongings before heading back out and locking the doors, bringing my attention back to my call with my dad.

I clicked resume on my call and raised my phone to my ear, hearing my dad's familiar voice on the other end. "Darling, be careful of where you're sewing. Don't prick yourself," He tells someone with a gentle voice.

"Hey dad," I say. "Who are you talking to?"

"That was your sister, I'm teaching her how to embroider," He replies. "It's her friend's birthday next week and apparently she's obsessed with embroidered anything. Maddie says she just wants to give her something nice, but to me, I'd say she likes her,"

I raise my brows, though not surprised. Madeline was never boy crazy and even before, she'd already implied she'd much rather have a wife. So at this point, everyone just knows.

"But that's not what we're meant to talk about," Dad says, a playful tone on her. "So this Luke is in a band, you like him, and then?"

I bite my lip as I walk down the street, feet moving aimlessly. I don't want to share everything with him, some things just feel as though they're meant to stay between Luke and I. "He's really nice, dad, you'd like him. It's just that..." I took in a breath, not knowing what he'd have to say for it. "I don't want to be unprofessional, because he's also my client,"

I press my lips into a line, hearing him pause for a moment and sigh. "How long has he been your client?"

I shrug. "Since last month,"