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Carlisle frowned at the message, his hand still resting on the door handle. He tried calling again, but it went straight to voicemail. Wondering if something had happened, he hesitated for a moment before deciding to head back to the lobby and grab some coffee while he waited.
As he walked through the quiet, dimly lit hotel hallway, his thoughts turned to Wanda. The way she had acted last night—her subtle admission, her gestures—it all felt different, like something was changing between them.
Just as he reached the lobby, he heard a familiar voice calling out to him.
“Carlisle! Wait up!” Wanda appeared at the top of the stairs, her hair messy from sleep, but her face was a picture of determination. She was wearing a loose sweater and leggings, looking a little disoriented but still very much herself.
Carlisle smiled as she approached, his heart warming at the sight of her. “I was getting worried. You didn’t answer your phone.”
“I must’ve turned it off by accident.” Wanda gave him an apologetic smile, then glanced down at her phone. “Sorry about that.”
“No worries,” Carlisle replied, his eyes twinkling. “You seemed pretty comfortable with me last night.”
Wanda blushed, her cheeks turning a soft pink. “I—well, yeah. I guess I did. But I wasn’t thinking too much about it, you know? I was just tired.”
Carlisle chuckled, his amusement obvious. “I’m sure you were. I didn’t mind, though. It was nice.”
Wanda looked at him nervously, unsure of where this conversation was headed. “So, what’s the plan for today? Are we going to look at that painting?”
Carlisle nodded. “Exactly. But before that, let’s grab some breakfast. You must be starving after that long ride.”
They made their way to a nearby café, and Carlisle couldn’t help but notice how comfortable they were together. The teasing from the night before seemed to have melted away, replaced by something quieter, more subtle, yet still electric.
As they sat down with their coffee and pastries, Carlisle brought up the topic of the painting again. “I’ve got a lead on that Galloping Horses painting. The owner of the shop is very private, but I think I can convince him to sell it. What do you think?”
Wanda stirred her coffee, deep in thought. “It’s a risky move, but if you think it’ll work, I trust you. But just… be careful. You don’t want to bite off more than you can chew.”
Carlisle smiled at her concern. “I will. But I need this to work, Wanda. Not just for the studio, but for everything I’m trying to build.”
She looked at him for a moment, her eyes soft and thoughtful. “I know. I believe in you, Carlisle. Just don’t let the pressure get to you.”
“Thank you,” he said quietly, his gaze locking with hers. “That means more than you know.”
They spent the next hour discussing the details, with Carlisle explaining his plans for the future. There was still so much work to be done, but with Wanda’s help, it felt like anything was possible.
Finally, after breakfast, they made their way to the antique shop in Rainville. The tension in the air was palpable as they entered the shop, with the smell of aged wood and dust filling the space. Carlisle’s eyes scanned the shelves, searching for the prized painting.
Wanda stood beside him, a curious look on her face. “Do you think he’ll sell it?”
“I’m not sure,” Carlisle said, his voice low. “But I’m going to try.”
The shop owner, a tall, elderly man with a stern expression, eyed them suspiciously as they approached. “Can I help you?”
Carlisle smiled confidently. “I’m interested in the Galloping Horses painting. I’ve heard you have it for sale.”
The man’s expression hardened slightly. “It’s not for sale.”
Carlisle didn’t flinch. “I’m willing to offer a very fair price. Name your number, and we can discuss it.”
Wanda, standing quietly beside him, felt a rush of excitement. She had no idea how he did it, but she could see that Carlisle was already making progress. It was like he could read the man’s thoughts before he even spoke.
The shopkeeper hesitated for a long moment, then finally spoke, “I’ll consider your offer. Come back in an hour.”
Carlisle nodded and led Wanda out of the shop. “I think we’ve got a shot. But we’ll see what he says.”
As they walked down the street, Wanda turned to Carlisle, a thoughtful expression on her face. “You really believe in this, don’t you?”
Carlisle looked at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of determination and something softer, something more personal. “I have to. And I want you to believe in it too. I want you to believe in me.”
Wanda’s heart skipped a beat. This wasn’t just about business anymore. It was about something deeper, something she hadn’t fully understood until now.
“I do,” she whispered, almost as if to herself. “I believe in you, Carlisle.”
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