Chapter 40

Sunday, at lunchtime, Louis and I went out on a date. He took me to an art museum owned by a friend of his.

"Rafi," Louis called a man in his late forties with a beard, dressed in a white suit. He seems nice, though elegantly friendly, with how he poises himself.

"Ah! Thanks for coming, love." Rafi gleefully hugs Louis. "What do you think about the works?"

"It's all a masterpiece, as expected."

"Ugh, well, I want it to be unexpectedly fabulous next time." He waved his hands around.

"By the way, this is Jillian. My girlfriend. Jillian, this is Raphael Twain, Rafi for short."

Raphael looked at me from head to toe, and I suddenly felt self-conscious, but he opened his arms wide open, and I leaned forward, and we both hugged. "Fabulous! You finally got yourself someone. I told you it wouldn't be hard."

"What makes you think it was easy?"

"Oh, rig