Chapter 14
At Julia’s question, Maya did two instinctual things at once. She looked around the room frantically to be sure no one had overheard, and she feigned ignorance. “What? Why would you say that?”
Julia put her hand on Maya’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I know.”
Maya tried to keep any expression off her face. This secret was not something she was ready to reveal. “Know what?”
“You and Everett. I don’t know what’s up. But something’s up. The way you two float around each other. You seem to disappear from the office at the same time. The other night I tried to call you and it went to voicemail and I tried to call him a couple minutes later and it went to voicemail.”
Maya shrugged casually. “This is your evidence that something’s going on?”
“So far, yeah. Everett won’t tell me anything. So I’m asking you now.”
Lying sucked. But Maya was having irrational doubts about letting everyone in on her relationship. For some reason, she felt so much more secure in her cozy little world, just her and Everett. “Julia, you’re letting your imagination get the better of you.”
Julia pressed her lips together. “Don’t play games, Maya. You are both too fragile for that.”
Maya looked around the room, purposely avoiding her friend’s gaze. “Tell me about the baby daddy hunt.”
“Maya.” Even though she wasn’t looking at her, she could hear the censure in Julia’s tone. “I care about you both and—”
“Look. It’s Amy. She’s here!” Maya began waving to the lithe blonde who made her way through the ever-increasing crowd to join them by the stairs.
It didn’t take long for their little spot to fill with people. Alice and her hot date showed up as well as Carlos and Everett. Maya kept her gaze away from Everett. In her peripheral vision she could see him glancing at her frequently, but she pretended he simply wasn’t there.
Everett didn’t say anything directly to Maya. He kept up his friendly banter with the group. Eventually, he took off with Carlos to head to the front of the house and talk with some old friends of theirs from Stanford.
Exhausted from the party and from avoiding the dark, liquid eyes of her lover, Maya climbed the stairs, a plastic cup filled with some sort of sweet alcoholic concoction dangling from her right hand. Mica still hadn’t shown up. All the usual people she liked to talk to had scattered through the crowd. And Julia, who she was desperate to not be caught by again, had disappeared. Maya hoped she wouldn’t run into her upstairs. Right now she needed to be alone for a minute.
Peeking into the first room on the right, Maya found a lacey guest room with a large bed and light purple curtains. She blinked as she stared at its blatant femininity until the black and white photo of Everett’s father on the bedside table kicked her brain into gear and she realized that this room was set aside for his mother.
The next room was a bathroom and beside that another guest room, this one much more neutral and colored in beige and blue. At the end of the hall was what she was sure was the master suite. The door was cracked open and Maya approached it cautiously. Shutting out the din of the party below, she concentrated on the silence enfolding that room.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door with a sharp jab and stood back. It swung open smoothly. Blanketing the hardwood floor in the center was a fluffy light gray rug upon which sat a king-sized, four-poster bed. It was covered with an unexpected patchwork quilt in a wild array of colors.
The dresser and bedside tables matched but were not modern, antiques of some sort, she guessed. To the side of the bed there was an object obscured by the door. Maya moved into the room, craning her neck to see it. Her breath hitched as she realized it was an easel.
Nothing sat on the easel. It was empty and alone. But behind it was a sliding glass door. Maya moved closer, stepped around the easel, and peered through the door. A large enclosed balcony stood off the room. Unable to stop herself, Maya slid the door open and stepped out onto tile. She looked at the deep red squares and gray grout for a mere second before turning her attention to the rest of the space.
The large windows on all three sides looked out over the backyard. The pool glimmered from underwater lights and the shadows of people moving through the dark could be picked out easily from up here.
But the room itself was the center of her attention, not the view. It was big, nearly half the size of the bedroom, and open. The only thing in the space was a firm, but comfy-looking chair sitting to one side. Spinning around, Maya found a small wooden door tucked against the wall beside the sliding glass door. She pulled it open and nearly fell to her knees.
The little closet held a set of perfect shelves, new by the looks of them. Most were empty, but a few held blank canvasses. A pile of new brushes sat in a little cubby. And at the top of the closet hung a big, red bow.
This was a gift. One she’d never accepted because she’d refused to come here. Everett must have asked at least a dozen times. He’d practically pleaded with her to come to his house. But she always refused, insisting they stay at her place.
Maya’s pocket buzzed and she reached in to pull out her phone. The text from Mica said that he and Roger had been there for a few minutes and still hadn’t seen her.
Maya closed the closet and the porch up tight and bolted back down the stairs, leaving the gift and all its implications behind for the time being. She searched through the throngs of people until she spotted Mica’s unruly brown hair at the edge of a tight circle of people.
As she approached, she realized Roger was in the center of the circle. Mica stood, his gaze away from the chaos and focused on some spot on the wall, a drink in his hand. He jumped a little when Maya touched his elbow.
“Hey. You are here. I was beginning to think you’d run away.” He grinned at her, but the smile didn’t touch his eyes.
“Let’s walk.” Her hand still on his arm, Maya moved Mica to the staircase. They stepped up to the landing and sat down on it. This was something they used to do at family parties as kids. From there they could see all the action without being a part of it. Maya leaned into Mica. “Let me guess. The minute you walked in he got swamped with his fans.”
Mica shrugged. “I think so. But it goes with the territory, you know.”
“What do you mean, you think so?”
“I waited in the car for about ten minutes. He came in first.”
Maya’s stomach clenched. “You didn’t even come in together?”
Mica shrugged again and took a long sip of his drink.
“Mica…”
“It’s fine, sis. Don’t get all up in arms. This is my life right now.” Mica turned to look at her and held her gaze, his expression filled with sincerity. “He’s worth it. Every minute of it. I’m in love with him.”
“But how long can you live in the closet like this?”
Mica’s gaze skittered away from her and back to the throngs of people in a circle around his boyfriend. Maya’s eyes followed his. Everett and Carlos had returned from wherever they’d been and were dispersing the crowd, giving Roger some space. Roger talked to them both briefly, shaking hands and smiling. Then his head started to swivel as he scanned the room.
Maya turned her attention back to Mica just as his lips exploded into a smile. This time his eyes were right there too, bright and happy. “He’s looking for me.” Mica gestured with his head.
“So…how long Mica?” she pressed.
Mica stood and waved his hand at the man below. “As long as I need to.”
****
Everett surveyed the destruction around him. His house was a righteous mess. But it was like this every year. It was after two in the morning. He’d kicked out the last of the guests and the cleaning crew would be here in five hours, getting to work before he even woke up.
He climbed the stairs with the knowledge that Maya was in his bed waiting for him. At least he hoped she was. She’d gone upstairs an hour before and texted him that she’d see him in his room when everyone was gone.
Anticipation clawed at him, overruling his exhaustion. Maya was in his bed. He’d wanted nothing more than this for so long. He swung open his bedroom door and nearly cried when he found the bed neatly made and empty.
His gaze swung wildly around the room until it landed on the open sliding glass door. He moved across the room to the balcony and found Maya sitting at the chair, easel set up, canvas in front of her and a pencil in her hand.
She turned her head and smiled at him. “There weren’t any paints in the closet. So I’m sketching something out. I do that sometimes. Sometimes I just start painting.”
Everett leaned against the doorframe and ran a hand over his head. “You like it?”
Maya didn’t answer his question. Instead, she set the pencil on a shelf in the open closet behind her and slid the canvas in beside it. She shut the closet door and circled around the easel. She stood in front of him and cupped his cheeks with both of her hands.
Maya kissed him gently. “I love it. I can’t believe you did this for me.”
“I had to find a way to get you to spend the night.”
She laughed. The sound launched butterflies in his stomach. “Well, it worked. And I like your house, by the way. Or I will after it’s cleaned up.”
“Does that mean you’ll stay here with me sometimes?”
Maya pulled her face away from his and quirked up one eyebrow. “Tell me why it’s so important to you.”
He wrapped his arms around her waist. “I guess because I want you in my space. I like being in your space, too. I want both things. I want us to be in each other’s space. It feels…more…real that way.”
Maya frowned. “I haven’t given you much reason to feel real, have I?”
Everett held still. He didn’t want to nod and confirm what she’d said, though instinct nearly had him doing so.
Maya kissed him again. “I’m sorry. I’m having a hard time adjusting.”
“To what, exactly?”
“We’re very different, Everett.”
“Are we?”
“We live very different lives. I am a barely-making-it artist and you’re a successful businessman. You grew up wealthy and I grew up middle class. I am stubborn and impossible and you are bending and kind. And I live a life of relative obscurity whereas you are basically famous, at least in Richmond.”
He tilted his head. “So we’re like Mica and Roger?”
“Yeah. Like Mica and Roger. We’re from different places, living different lives. My mom and I used to clean houses like this for extra money when I was in high school.”
“Mica and Roger are in love.” Everett wasn’t entirely sure what he expected her reaction to that statement to be. He’d basically used the word love in a conversation that was kind of, sort of, about them. And he figured she might run for the door.
Instead she frowned, her eyes tearing up and sadness suddenly consuming her. “They are. And they can’t really…Things are complicated.”
“And, yet, they’re happy.”
“Not all the time.”
“It’s hard to be happy every minute of the day, Sweetheart. But they are happy, hardships and all.”
“What are we saying here?”
She didn’t move away from him. She was still in his arms and her mouth was still in kissing range. Everett counted all these as good signs. “That I want you to spend the night tonight and maybe stay the weekend. And maybe paint on my porch. I’ll get you paints tomorrow if you show me what to buy.”
Maya stared at him for a long moment. Then she leaned forward and kissed him hard. The kiss was long and filled with passion and promise. Maya pulled back long enough to whisper one word. “Done.”