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“Wait,” Dean’s voice makes me pause. “What did you say? Did you say ‘girlfriend?’”
“Yeah,” I smile at him. I know it probably looks forced.
He laughs. His genuine, deep laugh, and a shiver, runs through me. “Oh, no, no, no. She’s my assistant.”
“But—” I pause for a second. “But the two of you seem so comfortable around each other.”
“Yeah, you tend to act that way around someone you’ve known and trusted for decades.” Dean is smiling at me again. A smile that makes his silver eyes crinkle in pleasure.
“What about the paint on her hand and your face?” I ask. I spent all night crying over this man. If I were wrong, that would make me seem so silly.
“Uh…well, she insisted on helping put my paints away. She’s kind of anal like that. And as far as the handprint goes, I’m pretty sure it was my own.” He then demonstrates how he usually observes his paintings, with his left hand resting palm up on the right side of his face. “I know it’s weird. But it’s just always how I’ve stood. I think it helps me think.”
“Hmm.” Everything he’s said does make sense, but there’s still something he isn’t telling me.
“Come on,” Dean puts a hand on my lower back and pushes me out the door. The warmth of it sends a fiery heat through my body. “Come meet her. See for yourself.”
We both go outside to greet the woman I mistook for his girlfriend.
“You’ll never believe it, Coral,” Dean says, with his arm around my shoulders. My face must be as red as a tomato right now.
“What?” She asks. She turns to look at me, and I give her a weak smile. She’s beautiful, and a part of me doesn’t believe they can’t just be friends. I know, of course, that women and men can just be friends, but they look so good together. And there’s still something Dean is hiding from me…
“Mae thought you were my lover.”
“Eww. What?” Coral’s face scrunches in disgust.
“Well…” I murmur.
“Oh gosh, no. I’ve been married for almost twenty-five years, and we have five children.”
“Wow,” I laugh, feeling like a massive weight has been lifted from my shoulders. “That sounds stressful.”
“It is,” Coral nods. “Especially since I basically have six counting this dummy.” She takes her hip and bumps it against Dean’s.
“Hey!” Dean shouts at her.
“I’m just kidding. But I do sometimes feel like your mother. Especially when I have to remind you about your doctor and dentist appointments.”
“Hey, what’s the hold-up!” Gramp yells from our garden. He’s standing with one hand raised to block out the sun.
Dean waves at him and pulls a pair of tan gloves from the back of his jeans. “I should probably get back to helping Bob,” he suggests.
The three of us walk back over to the garden.
“Are you okay?” I ask. Grandpa Bob’s sweating, and I worry that the heat and exertion might be affecting his heart.
“I’m fine, sweetheart.” He waves me off.
“You sure?” I ask. “Why don’t you let me go get you some water.”
“No need. I have a Thermos right here.” He bends down and picks up a canteen.
“Is it full?” I ask.
“There’s enough. Don’t worry.”
I can’t help but worry. What would I do if something happened to Grandpa?
