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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Erin
“You haveaseriously cute butt,” Isaid.
“You’re aware we’re not home, right?” He glimpsed at me from his place next to my easel as he adjusted my new canvas on it, asmall smile forming on his face. “And Ilike yours, in case you haven’tnoticed.”
Amonth had passed since Thomas’sbirthday. Amonth in which he held on to my heart as if it were made of glass, fragile and delicate alike. Our relationship built slowly, or better yet, it bloomed like the cherry blossoms that colored our neighborhood when spring came over Boston.
“Fully aware, yes, but almost everyone is still on vacation and Imissed admiring your butt up close.” Iclimbed on my toes to press our lips together. I’dbeen away for the first week of spring break with my family in California, and had been itching to get back to this sweet man Iswooned over.
“Imissed you too.” He caressed my cheek, looking adoringly into my eyes. “It’sbeen along week, but family comes first.”
It touched my heart that he did that, encouraging me to nourish my relationship with them.
“Ithink you enjoyed my week there far more than Idid.” Ilowered my eyebrows, trying and failing at reprimanding him. Instead of having an awkward meet-the-fam, even if it was via FaceTime, Mom and Corey shared with him aheap of embarrassing childhood stories until he cried with laughter.
The knowing smile on his face grew. “You don’thear every day about atoddler walking proudly with chewed bubblegum up her nose.”
“What doesn’tscream child genius about that?” Icrossed my arms over my chest in mock indignation. “Isaw ahole and tried to fill it. Genius, pure genius.”
He undid my arms and pulled me into an embrace. “No one said you’re not agenius.”
“Then?”
“You’re afunny genius.”
“This is going to haunt me for the rest of my life, isn’tit?” Isighed into his chest.
“Yes, no, probably.” Thomas’slow laughter rumbled against my cheek.
“Ugh.” Iwiggled out of his hold and walked to my easel. “Let’sjust work on Gloria’sheiress.”
Gloria was finished, the last varnish applied right before Ileft for San Diego. The trip helped me mentally prepare to work on anew lady with an idea bubbling into my head. “Ifigured out the next painting’stheme.”
Thomas perched himself on his usual stool. “Hit me.”
“Iwant to paint apregnant lady,” Isaid while Iorganized the palette, color tubes, and brushes. Everything was in place, besides Thomas, who never did answer me.
When Iturned to him, Iwatched as the color drained from his face, staring at me blankly.
Did he think Iwanted kids? Did it scare him that Idid?
Icould relate to it being intimidating for him. Before Imet Thomas, Inever thought I’dwant any. Greg never seemed like someone who would’ve made for agood role model, or better yet, something in me knew he’dbe ashitty father.
Everything in Thomas, so much unlike Greg, screamed that any kid would be fortunate to have him as afather. He cared for me, laughed at my nonsense, and cooked for me. Whatever sort of need Ihad, he provided it with love.
So yes, Iwanted kids with him, just not then, not when we were getting to know each other little by little, and this wasn’twhy Isuggested that idea anyway.
“It’snot likeIwant it for myself,” Irushed to explain. “It’slike any other painting for me, since that’satransformational stage for women in general. So many uncertainties while creating anew life inside their belly.”
Nothing.
Irambled on, unsure of how else to rectify it. “It’samysterious journey, isn’tit? Pretty cool, evolution and all that. Not for me, however, not anytime soon. Nope.”
He looked into space and when Ifollowed his gaze, Isaw his eyes were aimed at ablank wall, avoiding me. Aknot formed in my stomach, worried this had nothing to do with me wanting babies or the painting itself. But when he wasn'ttalking, Ijust couldn’tfigure out what.
Whatever it was, Ihad to bring him back to me. Ireturned to his side and covered his bearded cheeks with my palms, waiting for him to recognize me again.
