Mysti May says a few words to Percy that I can’t make out from where I’m standing.

I can assume from Percy’s reaction that it’s something in my favor.

Percy herself may want to run from this—even going as far as jumping from my fucking car—but her girls want to see her stand her ground.

They may be her friends—her sisters even—but it’s my side that they’re on in this whole situation. They know that I make Percy happy and that I love her immensely.

It helps that Mysti May herself is a real stickler for happy endings.

Maybe I’ll set her up with one of my friends as a thank you. I have plenty of wealthy friends and colleagues that would be right up Mysti’s alley.

I just need to settle this situation with Percy and myself first.

Mysti is practically pulling Percy up to me.

“Alright, Anton. She’s all yours,” Mysti says, a bit flustered.

Percy can put up quite the fight when she wants to.

“Thank you, Mysti. Say hi to everyone for me,” I reply gratefully.

“You, work this shit out. Pronto,” Mysti orders, points her finger at Percy.

Percy narrows her eyes at her friend in annoyance. Straightening herself up, Mysti leaves Percy and me to some privacy.

“So, what do you want now?” Percy asks.

“I wanted to take you someplace special so that we could talk.”

“So where’s the car?”

“Oh, no, I’m not falling for that again. Last time we were in a car, you jumped out. This time we walk.”

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice? Well, there’s never a second time with me.

I learn rather quickly from my mistakes.

“Alright then, lead the way.”

It’s quiet between us at first. Percy’s doing her best to act tough and stand her ground.

It’s rather adorable really. A bit pre-teenish but adorable all the same.

Her resolve fails after a couple of blocks.

Slowly, she begins to drift closer to me as we stroll through the beautiful city until—finally—her hand finds mine. Our fingers intertwine.

It lasts for only a minute however.

Once Percy realizes what she’s done, she immediately takes her hand back, staring angrily at the appendage like it’s to blame.

I stifle my laughter, allowing a fairly uncomfortable silence to settle around us.

Shortly thereafter, we arrive at our intended destination.

“The Van Gogh Museum? Really?” Percy looks at me with a confused look that matches her tone.

“Yes, the Van Gogh Museum.”

“And why here?”

“You’ll see. Come on.”

I try to grab her hand, but her sneer stops me in my tracks. Instead, I gesture towards the door, allowing her to take the lead.

The lobby of the museum is large and spacious. The oversized windows allow for the sun to flood the area with light and warmth.

The sound of her heels against the floor echoes through the entryway and crushes the lingering silence.

“Where the fuck is everyone?”

She looks at me perplexed.

My lips turn upward into a smirk.

“I’ve arranged for us to have some alone time,” I reveal. “I had the director close the doors to the public today.”

“How the fuck did you manage that?”

“I’m rich, and I’m royalty. I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

It also helps when the director of the museum owes me a dozen favors, too. If it hadn’t been for my assistance, the museum would be missing several valuable pieces from their collection.

Indiana Jones has nothing on me.

“So what’s the point of bringing me here anyway?”

“You’ll see, Percy,” I respond with a wink.

With a nod of my head, I motion for her to follow me.

There’s something eerie—yet enchanting—at having the museum to ourselves. All the wide, open space that is meant to hold hundreds of people stands hauntingly empty, save for the two of us.

It’s like we’re two travelers traversing the vast ocean with no other ships in sight.

“Does any of this feel familiar to you?” I inquire as we pass from painting to painting.

“I don’t know. Should it?” She looks over at me with a curious glance.

“Yes, it should.”

“Okay. Care to enlighten me?”

“Well, this is where it all began the first time and the last time.”

The look in her eyes shifts from curiosity to annoyance.

“Can’t you just give me a straight fucking answer, Anton? No more of these little fucking clues or hints. No more games. Just tell me why the fuck you brought me here.”

I can understand her exasperation. Fuck, if I was in her Louboutins, I’d demand straight answers myself.

“This is where we first met, Percy.”

“No, it isn’t. We met in New Orleans during Mardi Gras.”

“No, that was our third meeting.” I laugh softly with a shake of my head. “We met here first. You were here with Mysti and Becky. It was a day trip from when you were staying in Paris. You approached me and asked what I thought was my favorite painting of Van Gogh’s. I said it was Garden With Courting Couples.”

“I did?” She raises an eyebrow in disbelief.

“Yes, and when you asked me why I said that, it was because I always like to imagine that the couples in the paintings had a secret fetish for fucking outdoors and that Van Gogh happened to catch them after a particularly dirty romp. You laughed at my answer and asked if I like it outdoors.”

“Yeah, that sounds like me,” Percy says with a small laugh of her own.

“That’s when you took me to one of the bathrooms and you sucked my cock for the first time.”

“Yeah, that sounds like me, too.”

She turns away from me to look at the aforementioned painting before us. Percy’s eyes look over the masterpiece as if seeing a former lover whose return is unexpected but welcome.

“Bet you don’t know my favorite painting of his,” she taunts.

“I bet you that I do,” I counter with a grin.

I take Percy by the hand and lead her deeper into the museum.

I see the wheels start to turn bit by bit in her mind. It’s as if she is slowly remembering events of our past like the sun rising over the crest of the horizon.

All I have to do is wait for the dawn.

I lead Percy to Starry, Starry Night.

Normally the piece is housed in New York’s Museum of Modern Art—and has been a permanent fixture of their collection since 1941—but it has been loaned to the Van Gogh museum for a summer exhibition. Again, all courtesy of yours truly.

“This is your favorite. Has been since you were a little girl. You told me your parents took you the museum in New York one summer and you fell in love with it right away. That Starry, Starry Night is responsible for your love of post-impressionism art.”

“I’ve never told anyone that,” she says with surprise.

“Nobody except me. Though, admittedly, you only told me this last night when we were here.”

“Wait, we were here last night?”

“Yes, we were. I knew you were a fan of Van Gogh so I had us here after hours so you could see the painting. That’s when you told me that story about your parents. It’s also when you kissed me and told me that you loved me.”

Percy’s lips part in surprise and uncertainty. Her eyes turn away from me to Van Gogh’s famous painting.

I can almost see the light bulb in her brain turn on.

She remembers now. She remember us here last night and everything that had followed after.

Finally, dawn has come.