“She’s one of the most talented I’ve ever seen,” Antoine Pichot said as he joined Wes in the observation room. They were in the bottom basement of the Louvre, in a private viewing room that had a window with a one-way mirror. For the last week Wes had brought Callie here and let her spend half the morning learning a new medium or style, with a new artist every day. Then he’d take her out to see the city in the afternoon and then home to bed, which happened to be his favorite part of the day.
The routine had been pleasant and oddly fulfilling. He couldn’t imagine wanting anything more from his life in the past week than to be with Callie. While she took her lessons, he’d spent his time on commissions and at lunch he’d come to pick her up and take a few minutes to admire her work without he
