Page 49 of The Substitute Fiancée

I adjust the lights to highlight the planes of his face, the line of his jaw, the shadow beneath his cheekbones. Seated behind my easel, I begin laying down the construction lines. The charcoal glides between my fingers—familiar, comforting. I love this medium, both powerful and sensual. The deep black spreading across the grain of the paper feels cathartic.

“Relax,” I say softly. “You look like someone facing a death sentence.”

He gives a sheepish smile.

For the first few minutes, I block out the volumes of his face. Alexander plays along, holding still.

The charcoal scratches softly against the paper. In the silence of the living room, it’s the only sound, along with our breathing. Gradually, Alexander relaxes. He watches me work. His shoulders drop, his gaze deepens—and I can finally begin the real work.

My mind empties completely as my hands move. The goal isn’t to be faithful to reality, but to capture the emotion of the moment, to show what I see, what I feel. It’s about putting my vision of the world onto paper.

My vision of him.

I linger on his eyes. That crease between his brows when he worries. The curve of his full lips—lips that have kissed me. There’s something in his expression tonight… something new that makes my heart beat a little faster.

My hand hesitates for a fraction of a second above the paper, then I draw. I capture it.

“You know you can blink,” I say, trying to mask the turmoil rising inside me.

“I know,” he replies simply.

But he keeps looking at me, and I keep drawing that gaze that sets all my senses alight.

When Emelyne comes out of her room about twenty minutes later, she stops short at the sight of us. A mischievous smile spreads across her lips.

“Oh, you found yourself a new victim for tonight?” she teases. “Perfect, I can start dinner. Mara won’t be long.”

She disappears behind the open kitchen counter, rummaging through the cupboards and starting dinner preparations.

Mara finds us like that when she arrives shortly after, looking exhausted.

“Good evening, everyone,” she says, dropping her things in the entryway.

“Good evening!” we answer in unison.

Emelyne moves toward her sister, and Mara pulls her into a hug filled with that infinite tenderness that gets me every time. She murmurs something in Emelyne’s ear; Emelyne laughs and kisses her cheek. They stay wrapped in each other for a long moment, in their own bubble, as if the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

I catch Alexander looking at them. Something passes over his face.

Tenderness.

Mara eventually approaches us, resting an affectionate hand on Alexander’s shoulder as she passes.

“Good luck,” she tells him with a wink. “She’s merciless when she works.”

Then she comes over to me and leans in to see my drawing. Normally, I don’t like people watching me work—the only exceptions are Emelyne and Mara, who know how to look without judging.

“Wow,” she says softly. “You outdid yourself. It’s beautiful, Sam.”

I blush at the compliment as she kisses my forehead.

“I’ll set the table,” she says. “Alexander, are you staying for dinner?”

“With pleasure—if Sam agrees to release me.”

I chuckle.

“Three more minutes.”