After a quiet Sunday morning at home, just messing around the house, I decide to head out. My plan is to go to the studio to get a jump start on Jamie’s commission. My shop is closed to the public on Sundays and Mondays, but I often go in anyway. I can get a lot of work done when it’s just me there in the studio.
I love my studio. I love being surrounded by paintings in various stages of progress. Besides, I like to work. I like to keep busy. It’s better than sitting alone in my apartment and contemplating my future. Right now I feel like I’m in limbo, still trying to completely separate Todd from my life and deciding where I want said future to lead.
As I exit my apartment, locking the deadbolt, I glance down the hallway toward Jamie’s apartment. I’m tempted to knock on his door – just to say hi. I still feel unsettled about what happened yesterday at his brother’s house – in the barn specifically. I can’t believe he kissed me. My stomach is still doing somersaults just thinking about it. Even now, the thought of his lips on mine makes my heart race.
I feel horrible for turning down his offer of a date, but saying no was my only option. Todd would make Jamie’s life hell if he thought we were dating, and I just can’t expose him to that kind of jeopardy. Also, I’m just not ready to be intimate with someone.
Just this morning as I got out of the shower and dried off, I stared at my reflection in the foggy bathroom mirror. Even a year after the surgery, I still don’t recognize my own body. The two scars are shiny, irregular lines, and even though it’s been a year since the surgery, they’re still pink. I’m afraid that if Jamie hugged me, he might be able to tell I have prosthetic breasts. I have to wonder if he’d still be interested in me if he knew I didn’t have breasts.
As I’m heading out, I deviate slightly and find myself in front of Jamie’s door. I stand there quietly, listening for signs that he’s home, but I hear nothing. Part of me wants to knock, on the chance that he is home and I get to see his face and hear his voice. But another part of me thinks I shouldn’t. I really do want to be friends with him – I’d rather have something of him in my life than nothing – but I don’t want to lead him on.
The desire to see him, even if just for a few moments, wins out. Taking a deep breath to fortify myself, I knock on his door – three strong raps with my knuckles. I expect Gus to come running to the door, to bark, but there’s nothing but silence on the other side. I wait a couple of minutes, giving him time to respond, then knock once more, louder this time. When there’s no response, I head outside.
Tamping down my disappointment, I jog down the staircase and just as I reach for the door knob, the door opens, and there’s Jamie with Gus. Jamie’s dressed in jeans and sneakers, and his leather jacket. He’s holding Gus’s halter in one hand and a sack of groceries in the crook of his other arm.
“Jamie, hi!” My voice sounds breathless and flustered, and inwardly I cringe.
His thick hair is slightly tousled by the wind, making him look rakish, especially with those dark glasses. But it’s the sudden smile lighting up his face that catches my attention. I was so afraid that my rejection yesterday would ruin our burgeoning friendship. Apparently not. He looks genuinely happy to see me.
He wedges the door open with a broad shoulder. “Hi, Molly. Where are you off to?”
I can’t help the stupid, relieved smile on my face – the one he can’t see. “I’m going to my studio to get a start on your brother’s painting while the images are still fresh in my mind.”
His smile broadens. “Do you mind if Gus and I stop by for a visit later?”
“I’d love it.” My heart races at the thought of seeing him again. That, and I’m so relieved he’s not angry at me. “The shop’s closed today, but if you text me when you arrive, I can let you in.”
I know there’s a stupid grin on my face as I head toward my studio. I’m just happy that he’s talking to me, and that I’m going to see him again this afternoon. I’m so glad what happened in his brother’s barn didn’t ruin our budding friendship. I don’t want to lose the little bit of him that I’m allowed to have.
* * *
Despite being preoccupied with thoughts of Jamie, I’m actually able to get quite a bit of work done. I also prep the canvas for Jamie’s commission. Even though I have a number of projects ahead of his in the queue, I’m anxious to start on his. So, in between laying down several layers of paint on a couple of other projects, I prime his canvas, then lay down a couple subtle washes of color and sketch out the general shape of the composition in pencil.
I know exactly how I want to paint the view out of Shane and Beth’s home. I can picture it all – the gently sloping lawn, the sandy beach, the foamy surf, and finally the water, all of which will be overshadowed by a storm in full force. And yet, behind the churning storm clouds are skies of clear blue. Sort of the opposite of what happened yesterday. In my painting, the storm is on its way out, to be replaced with clear weather. My painting will represent the aftermath of the storm – symbolically, the promise of better times coming on the heels of adversity. Hopefully, this will be a good omen for Shane and Beth’s upcoming wedding.
I’m just finishing up the final glaze on a pair of commissioned paintings when Jamie’s text comes in. He’s out front. I glance at the clock on the wall and am surprised to see it’s almost five. The afternoon has flown.
I grab a hand towel and wipe my hands as I head to the front of the shop. There, standing outside my door, are Jamie and Gus. As I approach the door, I realize Jamie’s holding a bouquet of lilacs and baby’s breath wrapped in white tissue paper and tied off with a bow.
He brought me flowers.
My breath catches in my throat, and I find it difficult to breathe. After all the times I’ve turned him down, he still brings me flowers? Oh, my God, I don’t deserve this. My heart feels shredded, and I don’t know how much longer I can make up excuses to avoid doing the one thing I want more than anything in the world.
I unlock the door and step aside as he and Gus come in, bringing in a gust of frigid air.
“A little birdy told me your favorite flowers are lilacs.” He hands me the dainty bouquet. “It’s not easy to find lilacs at this time of year, I’ll have you know. I had to call three florists to find them.”
A little birdy? I can guess who that is. I bring the bouquet to my nose and inhale its exquisite fragrance. “They’re beautiful, Jamie.” I suddenly find myself choking up as tears clog my throat. “Thank you.”
“Hey.” He drops Gus’s harness and lays his hands on my shoulders, gripping me gently. “What’s wrong?”
I sniff. “It’s nothing. I just really love lilacs.”
He chuckles. “Wow, you’re easy to please. If I’d known you’d react like this, I would have been bringing you lilacs every day since I met you.”
I laugh shakily. “I have an empty vase in the backroom. Let’s go put them in some water.”
Jamie and Gus follow me into the backroom, and I dig an empty vase out from the cupboard beneath the sink, fill it partway with water, and add the flowers along with the packet of plant food I find tucked inside the tissue paper.
I wipe my damp eyes and collect myself. “Can I get you something to drink?”
Jamie removes his jacket and drapes it over the back of a chair. He’s wearing a gray Henley T-shirt that hugs his torso, emphasizing his strong shoulders and well-defined biceps. I can’t help staring as his arm muscles bunch and flex when he moves.
The top two buttons of his shirt are undone, and my gaze lights on the bit of brown chest hair peeking out of the opening. I wonder what those hairs would feel like against my cheek. Todd has no hair on his chest, so I can only imagine. I’m struck with an urge to press my nose against his throat, to nuzzle him and breathe him in.
Jamie takes a seat at my little round table. “What have you got?”
“I have soft drinks, water, and a few bottles of Goose Island. Would you like a beer?”
“Water’s fine,” he says, surprising me. I thought for sure he’d go for the beer.
I grab two bottles of chilled spring water and bring them to the table, where I sit down in the chair opposite his.
“How’s the work coming along?” he says, opening his bottle.
“Fine. The canvas for your painting is prepped. Once it’s dry, I’ll start on the composition, hopefully tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? Don’t you ever take a break? You can’t work seven days a week, Molly. You’ll wear yourself out.”
“I love what I do, so it’s really not work.” I open my bottle of water and take a sip. “How about you? What’s your work schedule like?”
He smiles guiltily. “I write every day.”
“Um, how?”
“I dictate into a digital recorder, then I send the recordings to my editor, who converts them to manuscripts. After they’re edited, they come back to me for revisions, and we repeat the process.”
“How long does it take you to write a book?”
“About six months, with all the back and forth between me and my editor. I’m working on my sixth novel now, so we have the routine worked out pretty well.”
“I’m glad you have a job that you enjoy and that you can do from home.”
“Right after the accident, my biggest fear was that I wouldn’t be able to support myself. When I came to live in Shane’s house, I spent hours sitting alone, feeling lost. Elly introduced me to the world of audiobooks, and that got me reading again.”
“I’d tell Elly stories about my experiences in the teams, and she suggested I start capturing them. She bought me a digital recorder, and then one thing led to another. I’d always loved to read, but I never dreamed I’d end up writing for a living.”
I love listening to him talk. His smooth baritone voice is sexy and soothing, very fitting for his big frame.
“Elly cares about you,” I say. “A lot. She misses you.”
He nods. “She didn’t want me to move out. Neither did Shane. But Beth got it. She understood why I needed to live on my own for a while. She helped me find my apartment.”
I’m startled by a sharp knock at the back door.
Jamie’s head snaps up. “Are you expecting someone?”
“No.” My heart starts hammering because there’s only one person who ever comes to the back door besides the delivery people, and that’s Todd. I can’t let Todd see Jamie here.
As I rise from my seat, Jamie stands too. I can’t help wondering if he’s picking up on my unease. There’s a second knock, and that propels me to the door, so I can see out the peep hole. Sure enough, Todd’s standing there, his face illuminated by the light coming from the lamp overhead. “It’s Todd.”
I glance back at Jamie, who’s facing me, his hands fisted at his sides. I’ve never seen him look so tense, like he’s on high alert. I guess you can take the man out of the military, but you can’t take the military out of the man.
Even Gus is up on his feet as he goes to stand at Jamie’s side, pressing up against Jamie’s leg as if he senses a threat. I’m not sure if Gus is trying to protect Jamie, or if he’s looking for protection himself.
I hesitate, not wanting to open the door. If Todd sees me with Jamie, it’ll only bring unwanted attention in Jamie’s direction.
Todd knocks again, this time harder, and I flinch.
“Open the door, Molly,” Jamie says in a firm but even voice.
“He shouldn’t be here. It’s a violation of the restraining order.”
“I know, but go ahead and open it. I’d like to have a talk with him.”
“Jamie, no. That’s not a good idea. Maybe you should leave – go out the front door.”
Jamie ignores my suggestion as Todd pounds on the door with his fist.
“Open up, Molly!” Todd yells. “I know you’re in there.”