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“Thomas?” Iglanced into the eyes that slowly acknowledged me, those golden stars Iloved. “Iswear, Iwasn’tdropping hints or anything, in case that freaked you out.”
Suddenly, he reacted, standing up abruptly, his muscular arms pulling me in abone-crushing hug.
“This has absolutely nothing to do with you,” he whispered in my ear. “Iwant to have many, many kids with you. To have afamily with you. Don’tdoubt for asecond how you make up my entire world.”
Hearing him say it for the first time was like prancing into an all-you-can-eat buffet of red velvet cakes and cupcakes, the sweetest dreams Ididn’tdare imagine, brought to life and within my reach.
“Thomas?”
“I’mhere.”
“You want afamily with me?”
He held my shoulders and drew back, never too far. His face lost its ghostly appearance while he examined me as if Ihad asked him if he wanted to shave his hair off. “Ilove you, Erin, and Idon’tsay it lightly. It means Ihave every intention to have afamily with you.”
My heart thumped once, aloud, messy, surprising sound. It bounced again, louder this time. Iwas barely alive, stunned silent from what this man did to me.
“And Iwant to help”—he gestured toward the canvas—“with the painting.”
I’ll have this man’sbabies one day, was the thought that bounced around in my head.What painting?
When Irecuperated from the magic dust he sprinkled over me, Inodded, agreeing for two reasons. First, Icared for this man and tried giving him as much as he gave me, and that was atall order. I’dnever been so emotionally satisfied in my life as Iwas with him.
Second, it sounded like he wanted to reach out, to unveil afragment of the pain in his past through art. After afew months of my internship and learning how to teach, Ifelt pretty confident that exact education could be applied in his case.
Whether it would assist him in communicating or healing without ever opening up, Ijumped on the opportunity to help.
Irocked back on my heels, taking on acasual air with my hands in my back pockets. We’dbeen careful with his heart for months, and in no way did Iwant him to be pressured into it. “You sure?”
“Yeah. Yes, I’msure.”
“All righty.” Icombed astrand of hair from my face and tried to turn to the painting. Isaytriedbecause Thomas’sgrip held me firmly in place.
Icleared my throat. “For us to work on the canvas we need to, at the very least, look at it.”
“One more minute.” He grabbed onto me tight, his gaze cautious.
An old article Iread years ago came back to me at that moment, on how to acclimate fish into anew tank. You didn’tjust release them from the bag and expect them to survive in the new environment. No, you had to clean the water, test for PH levels in the aquarium, dim the lights in the house so it wouldn’tfreak out, and only then lower the bag and let it float for about thirty minutes, then lift the fish carefully with anet and place it into the tank.
Iset out to make Thomas my fish.
“We can wait,” Ioffered. “In the meantime, would you do me and her the honors by naming her?”
That seemed to tame his apprehension, his eyes turning pensive. “Angelica,” he said without further explanation.
“Ilike it, too. Acelestial name.”
He raised an eyebrow when Ihurried to agree with him.
“I’mvery serious,” Iclarified. “Iwish I’dhave thought of it before.”
“Okay…” His eyebrow lowered, and asneaky smile crept on his face. “It feels like apassage into the family.”
“Why are you being silly?” Islid an arm from his tight embrace and slapped his shoulder. The small smile widened and Ipersevered, carefully placing the metaphorical bag in the metaphorical aquarium. “You’ve been apart of the gang ever since Deidra.”
“You’re saying Icould have played apart in the paintings months ago?”
“Unbeknownst to you, you already have. You inspired me just as much as they did.” Ileveraged the change in his mood to drop the net in my fish’sbag. “But now that you’re an active part of it, come and help me with the colors.”
