Chapter 11“These are quite good.” Vanessa Corbyn, of Corbyn-Ross Gallery, flicked her eyes up to his and then back down to the pages of his portfolio.
“Thank you.” Wyatt fought the urge to look out the window and across the road to where Saal stood waiting for him on the other side of the street.
He’d woken up that morning with a wish firmly set in his mind, though at first he’d been unable to work up the courage to make it. Instead, Wyatt had dragged Saal to his favorite diner.
Dragged might have been too strong a word. Saal had loved the idea of having breakfast out, but when he’d seen the place he’d been less enthusiastic at the idea.
“It looks dirty.”
“It is dirty. But I swear, the food is great.”
Saal reluctantly followed Wyatt inside, slid into the worn-out booth, listened pati
