Paolo Nutini—Last Request
Ed Sheeran—Perfect
I hum a soft tune to “Baby F” who is lying on my chest, smiling like an idiot.
“Last night must’ve been some night,” Mom states.
A grin creeps up my lips. “Mmhmm.”
Her answering smile has me blushing. “It’s good to see you happy again. If he makes you happy, then you have my blessing.” She pauses, a tight smile on her face. “But… like I said last night, be careful, sweetheart.”
I nod in acknowledgement, closing my eyes and remembering the look on Tristan’s face before he stormed toward me with purpose and pushed his lips against mine. People always talk about fireworks going off, but this was that tenfold. It was like an atomic bomb exploded and my whole body melted as our bodies collided again after all of these years. Everything that had happened in the past was forgotten about and all that mattered was the two of us in that moment.
My fingers brush my lips, adamant that I can still feel his lips against mine and his slight stubble grazing my chin. A shiver rolls through me at his words on the way home.
“This is it for us, Harm. It was always meant to be us.”
It’s hard not to think about the way that he left me and all the harsh words he said, but we were so young, not thinking of the consequences. It was so long ago now that I’m starting to wonder if it even matters anymore, but I know deep down that it does. I’ll have to bring it up at some point and I think he knows that, but not right now, not when we’ve only just found each other again.
“Can I steal him from you? It’s time for his checks.” I open my eyes to a kind, smiling nurse.
“Of course,” I reply, giving one last squeeze and a gentle kiss to “Baby F’s” forehead before handing him back.
It still stings handing him back; he’s been the only baby I’ve cuddled since I started here, and he’s coming on amazingly. They’ve said he needs a few more weeks of monitoring but then… I don’t even want to think about him going into the system, it breaks my heart. I was told on day one to not let myself get attached, but how could I not?
Mom hands her baby off to a waiting nurse and stands, saying her goodbyes to the nurses we’ve started to build a relationship with before turning toward me. “Are you ready to go?”
I take one last look at the cooing baby in the incubator beside me and smile. “Yeah, I’m ready. Let’s go and grab some lunch.”
We change out of the scrubs we’re wearing and toss them into a laundry basket as we walk out of the door.
My cellphone rings and I stare down at the unknown number on the screen, pressing answer. “Hello?”
“Hi, is that Harmony? Harmony Jameson?”
I don’t recognize the man’s voice on the other end of the line so I’m cautious. “It is.”
“Oh, great. I’m standing outside of your studio right now, but there doesn’t seem to be anyone here.”
“Oh, we’re not open on Sundays, but we’ll be open at nine tomorrow morning. Is there anything I can help you with?”
“Yes, actually there is. I have a delivery for you of somewhat importance.”
On a Sunday? “O—okay. I can make it there in fifteen minutes if you can wait?”
“Sure.”
I breath out a sigh of relief and say goodbye before hanging up.
“Who was that?” Mom asks.
“A guy saying he has an important delivery for me. We’ll swing by the studio quickly and then go to that café around the block if you want?” We climb in the car and she nods before we make our way toward my studio.
I park outside and tell my mom to wait in the car, but obviously she never listens and steps out with me. I see the man leaning up against the wall outside of the studio, playing on his cellphone and I freeze. What the—
He looks up as we approach and smiles. “Harmony. Thanks for coming right away.”
My mouth forms an O but no words come out as I stare in shock.
Mom nudges me from behind. “Harmony, you’re being rude.”
“I, erm…” I clear my throat and stick out my hand, ready to greet him properly. “Mr. Hunt, what a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
He pockets his cellphone and shakes my hand. “Please, call me Oliver; Mr. Hunt’s my dad.” Then he gestures to a van with two men sitting inside for them to come out. “Pleasure’s all mine, I assure you.”
The men climb out and open the back of the van, carrying what looks like a projector and electrical equipment.
“Where do you want it?” one of them asks with a grunt as he nears us.
“I… I’m sorry, this must be some sort of mistake. I didn’t… I haven’t…”
Oliver looks at my mom who shrugs, making him chuckle. “Ah, this makes more sense now. If we can let the gentlemen inside, then I can explain properly? I don’t mean to rush you but I have inspiration swirling around my head and I need to get back to my studio.”
I start walking toward the door, pulling out my keys. “Yes, of course. Come in.”
We all step inside, the men putting down the equipment and going back out for more.
“I’m guessing your… friend didn’t tell you about this.” He walks over to the two men who are carrying a large rectangular object wrapped in cloth. He motions for them to rest it up against the wall and then pulls out a pen knife, flipping it open and cutting the string holding it all together.
The material unravels and I gasp when I see what it is. “That’s…”
“Yours now.” He grins. “I’m here to help set it up, but it’s all yours.”
I can’t formulate words as my mom sidles up beside me and gazes over it. “Tristan bought you a painting?”
“Apparently so.” I look up at Oliver. “I’m sorry, did you say you were here to set it up?”
He nods as he types something into his cellphone. “Yup, he paid for the whole package.” He pockets his cellphone and claps his hands. “So, where do you want it?”
I look around the room, but there’s no way I’m hanging an Oliver Hunt original in reach of the kids. “Upstairs, that’s my personal studio.” He nods and motions for the men to take everything upstairs, following closely behind them. “Oliver, I’m a little speechless. Are you sure Tris—Mr. Carter wants this here?”
He reaches the top of the stairs and whistles, spinning around. “This is a quality space you have here. Wow.”
I smile at his compliment. “Thank you, I’m pretty lucky to have found it.”
He nods. “And yes, Mr. Carter specified it be brought and set up here.” He points to the only blank wall to the right of the studio. “Over here would work.”
“I think… Yes, you’re right, it would look perfect there.”
He instructs the men on what to do and gives me a rundown on the lighting and software. “But Mr. Carter can tell you more about the software and help if something happens.”
He has a knowing look on his face as he says, “Mr. Carter,” and I blush, looking over at Mom who hasn’t stopped smirking since we first arrived.
“I really need to get going, but if you need anything else then call. I’m always available for important clients,” he says and holds out his hand toward me.
I shake it, smiling wide. “Thank you, this… It’s an honor to have one of your pieces.”
He chuckles. “I’ll never get used to people thinking that I’m something special.” He turns toward my mom and shakes her hand too. “Have a great day, ladies, I’ll see myself out.”
He waves before walking down the stairs and I watch out the window as he pulls out his cellphone and taps on it while walking toward his car.
“I’m guessing this is a big deal?” Mom finally says.
I blow out a breath while looking at the painting, feeling the emotion from the first time I saw it flowing through me. I’m in awe. “Huge.” I hold my cellphone in the air. “Do you mind if—”
“Call him,” she interrupts. “We can do lunch another time.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I hand her the car keys. “Take the car, I’ll take a cab.”
She smirks and takes them from me, waving goodbye as she walks down the stairs.
I look down at my cellphone, pressing call on Tristan’s number.
It rings out so I hang up and type out a message to him.
Harmony: We need to talk. I’m at my studio if you can come.
I giggle at the sentiment behind the message, the words “we need to talk” are hardly ever a good thing. In this case they are, but he doesn’t know that. He deserves the anxiety for spending so much money on me.
I’ve never cared about money; how little or how much I had has never mattered. Of course I need it to run my studio, so it matters that I have enough for that, but other than that, it’s insignificant to me. I’ve never been materialistic.
I tear my gaze away from the painting I can’t stop staring at for two minutes while I open the balcony doors to let in the light, summer breeze, and turn on the radio, relishing in the notes of the calming music as they wash over me. I turn back toward the painting and wonder what Oliver was thinking when he created it. Is there a muse behind it?
I sigh, smiling as the lights change and the woman depicted smiles back at me.
I feel him before I see him, my skin prickling with goose bumps and a shiver rolling through me as he wraps his arms around my waist from behind before kissing the sensitive skin beneath my ear.
I turn around in his arms, seeing his eyes fixated on the painting before he murmurs, “Worth every single dollar.”
“You shouldn’t have spent so much money on me.”
“It wasn’t for you. It was for me.” I raise a brow in question and he leans in close to my mouth and whispers, “Seeing your reaction and watching you try to figure out the reasoning behind the painting is priceless. I’d pay a large amount of money any day to see the look on your face right now; over and over again.”
She stares at me in shock at the words I’ve said, and all I can do is smirk at her.
She’s not the kind of person who easily accepts gifts—she never has been—but this is different because I saw the way that she was staring at this painting the other night. The way I feel is: if I can’t use my money to buy things like this for her, then I don’t know what I can spend my money on. It’s not as if it was a hardship, and I’ll do anything to bring that smile to her face and the look in her honey eyes.
I press my lips against hers in a gentle kiss before I pull back, lifting up the bottle of red wine that I brought with me.
From the first moment I pulled up to her studio and I saw that balcony, I always imagined drinking a glass of red wine on it as I watched the sun set. I never in my wildest dreams thought I’d be doing it with Harmony by my side.
“I brought this,” I tell her as I grab the two plastic glasses that I found in the picnic set that sits unused in my house. They may not be the wine glasses that I imagined when I first saw the balcony, but they’ll do the job.
“So, you were thinking you could sweet talk me into having a drink with you?” She raises a brow at me playfully as she tilts her head to the side.
“Maybe.” I smirk and grab the bottle opener. “How many times have you looked at that balcony and imagined drinking a glass of wine while you watched the sun set?” I ask, knowing that she’s got to have at least thought about it once.
“How do you know that I haven’t spent every night on it with a glass of wine in my hand already?”
She purses her lips as she tries to stifle a giggle, laughter shining in her eyes.
I shake my head as I pull the cork out of the bottle. “Because I know you,” I say, pouring the wine into the two glasses and handing her one as I step forward. “You don’t like to drink alone.”
She smirks but doesn’t comment before looking down at the glass. “Weren’t you brought up around fine wine? Surely you know red wine needs to breathe for at least half an hour before you can drink it.”
I raise a brow, bringing the glass to my lips and letting the dense liquid swirl around my mouth, tasting black cherry and spice with a hint of vanilla. “You don’t need to let mature wine breathe,” I say with a wink. “That’s one of the reasons it’s priced so highly.”
She rolls her eyes before walking out onto the balcony and I follow her. “You’re right,” she comments, her eyes settling on the setting sun. “It’s breathtaking out here right now.”
Leaning my arms on the railing, I lift my head and watch the setting sun; the pink and orange hues extending as far as the eye can see. “It is,” I marvel, thinking that that’s not the only thing that is breathtaking out here—she is too. So beautiful that I almost find it hard to catch my breath as I stare at her, watching her hair trail along her shoulders as the wind flows through it.
The song playing on the radio changes and “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran plays through the speakers. His soulful voice wraps around us like the vines that wrap around the balcony, his words hitting me in the chest and making me swallow to keep my emotions under control.
I never thought that we’d be back here, not after all of the history between us.
I place my drink down on the white metal table before grazing my fingers down her arm and to her hand, gripping it gently and pulling her toward me slowly.
She startles at first, having been entranced by the sunset, but a smile slowly creeps up her face and her eyes twinkle. “What are you doing, Mr. Carter?”
“I’m trying to dance with you, Miss Jameson.” I pull her even closer as the piano and string instruments play through the speakers, intertwining with his voice.
She places her glass on the table before hooking her hands around my neck and I snake my arms around her waist, bringing her closer to me so that our chests are touching. I can feel her fast heartbeat thumping against me as it matches the rhythm of mine.
I gently sway us side to side, my eyes not leaving hers as each word he sings resonates within me.
The smile doesn’t leave her face and I start to hum the tune, making her giggle. Her carefree aura has a grin lifting my lips and I step back, still holding her against me as I walk us off the balcony and into her private studio.
I let her go, keeping my hand connected to hers as I twirl her around. She lets her head fall back, laughing out loud as I start to sing the words and bring her back between my arms—right where she belongs.
“I see you still haven’t taken those singing lessons that we talked about,” she laughs out.
I wink, singing louder and moving us to the beat of the music. It’s all fun and laughs until the grin drops from my face and I stare into her eyes, portraying how much I mean the lyrics that I’m singing to her.
Before seeing Oliver’s art show, I never thought that we’d be here, together. I know there are still things I need to admit to her, to tell her why I did what I did all of those years ago, but all I want to do right now is bask in the glow that we’re emitting and stay inside this bubble.
Her eyes search mine as I continue to sing, pulling her closer, my lips a hairsbreadth from hers as I whisper the words over her lips.
“I’ve missed this,” I say, watching her carefully as the last notes of the song play.
The radio starts playing a faster song and she pulls back, her eyes flashing with something that she immediately shuts down before she clears her throat, walking back out onto the balcony.
I stand still in the middle of her private studio, watching her back as she picks her wine up off the table and stares out into the darkening sky.
I shouldn’t have said that.
Shaking my head, I try to paste a smile on my face as I walk back toward her, wrapping my arms around her from behind and placing my chin on her shoulder.
“Have I told you today that you’re beautiful?” I whisper in her ear, trying to cut through the atmosphere that has wrapped its way around us from my comment about missing her.
She’s quiet for a beat and I watch as a blush creeps up her cheeks. “I… Thank you.” She turns in my arms and stares into my eyes. “You’re not so bad yourself, I suppose.”
“No suppose about it.” I smirk, pushing her back a step so that her back hits the railing. My gaze flicks down from hers to her lips as she traces her tongue over them.
My hand lifts of its own accord, my thumb trailing over her bottom lip as I lean forward, capturing her soft lips with mine, and showing her how I really feel.
I may not be able to say it with my words right now, but actions speak louder. I put all of my feelings into the kiss, trying my hardest to show her what she means to me.
Her hands move into my hair as mine settle on her hips, my tongue tracing the seam of her lips as I ask for entrance. She opens up for me and I swipe my tongue against hers, relishing in the small moan that escapes her throat at the sensation.
I pull away slowly, letting my lips savor every second that they touch hers as she opens her eyes.
“This balcony sure is something,” I comment, a cheeky grin lifting my lips.
“You can say that again,” she mumbles before her lips are on mine again.