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“My mommy,” she replies as she continues with a smaller version next to it.
“And who is that one?” I ask, but then my phone vibrates. Pulling out my cell and seeing it is Sasha again, I turn off my phone and shove it back in my pocket.
“That’s me!” She giggles, and it is contagious so I laugh too.
She puts the brush down then, and I look at her. I can see more raised lines on the page for other people, but she isn’t painting them.
“Do you need some more paint?” I ask, curious as to why she stopped.
“No. That’s my family, me and Mommy. My daddy is a bad man. He hurts my mommy, so we don’t see him anymore,” she whispers to me, and I sit, stunned for a moment, that this little girl is telling me this.
It isn’t totally surprising, as there are single parents everywhere, but it must be hard to be a single parent to a special needs child. And to also have a father who hurts her mother, that is something I have never had to navigate. My heart beats harder in my chest for a minute for this little girl, wishing I could take any of her worries away.
“Let me go and put this on the drying rack.” I grab the wet painting, giving her a fresh page before I go, and I see her get busy starting her next masterpiece. I peg her painting onto the rack in the corner, and my eyes flick to the opposite side of the room to Emily.
She is helping the older boy again. Like last week, she is supporting his entire weight as he maneuvers across the room to what appears to be the bathroom.
“Ben,” she says, her head turning back to me as she struggles to lift the boy and hold him up. He is tall and sturdy and leaning against her small frame. He almost towers over her. “Watch the class while I help Gavin to the bathroom,” she says, and I am stunned that she needs to help the kids to the bathroom as well. Her role as a teacher extends well beyond what I thought.
When I head back to the table, one of the kids is very excited and lifts his brush into the air just as I am coming behind him. Bright-green paint licks up my pants and the side of my shirt with a splash.
“Shit!” escapes my lips before I can catch it.
Stalking over to the sink, I start the water and grab some paper towels. Wetting them, I try to remove the paint, but only succeed in spreading it around, making a bigger mess than what was there before.
“Dammit.” I throw the paper towel into the bin and turn off the taps in a huff. Turning around, I stop short as I see every child in the room looking at me, still and quiet as mice. Again. They are scared stiff at my outburst, the fright in their eyes evident. I close my eyes and take a calming breath, trying to rein in my inner frustrations. It’s just a suit. But really, did I have to wear the new one?
It is then that Emily and Gavin come out of the bathroom, and upon seeing the kids looking my way, her head turns to me too.
“What did you do?” she asks, putting the boy in his seat and walking over to me. The kids go back to quietly painting, and she looks down at my suit, noticing the green now covering my clothes.
She rolls her lip, trying unsuccessfully to hide her smile.
“Next time, wear old clothes to art class, Ben,” she says, grimacing through a laugh.
“I have ruined a brand-new suit!” I hiss at her, and this causes her to laugh even harder. Fuck, she is beautiful.
“Go ahead, laugh. You are in my town soon. I'm taking you out to see how you like being somewhere you are not used to,” I grit out, even though I’m quite enjoying seeing her smile. She looks up at me, her eyes sparkling. My anger subsiding, I pull out the box from my pocket.
“I got you this.” I open the jewelry box and show her the engagement ring I purchased for her. A large solitaire diamond. It glistens in the overhead lights. Even though it is a fake arrangement, I tried to find something that I thought she would like. It is simple, but classic, large but proportional.
She gasps as her eyes take in the ring. “It’s really beautiful, Ben…” she says in awe before looking back up at me.
“Are you sure you want the first engagement ring you buy for a woman to be for a fake engagement?” she asks me, and it is something that I hadn’t thought of before.
“I am not sure I’m marriage material, Doubtfire, so I’m more than happy to put this on your finger.” I grab her left hand and push it onto her delicate finger. Once it’s in place, I find myself pressing a kiss to her hand. Not something I had planned, but it feels natural, and as my lips touch her skin, I feel a little remorseful that this is fake.
After the shitshow my father left behind when he died, I never thought I would get married. But there is something about Emily that has me faking proposals and ruining expensive suits that never would have happened a few weeks ago.
CHAPTER TWELVE - EMILY
I have no idea why I agreed to this, but had you asked me a month ago what I would be doing, a date with a billionaire from the city was not what I would have said. Sarah and Allie are both over to help me get ready and are going to stay here tonight to look after Rosie. She just finished reading Cinderella to Allie in bed while I ran around my small apartment, getting ready.
Opting for a little black dress, something I got on sale at the local thrift store, I don’t scrub up too badly. I look at the wall clock nervously, seeing it is seven p.m., and he said he is sending a car to get me at seven p.m. sharp.
“So tell me, where are you going again?” Sarah asks as I check the contents of my handbag again for the fifteenth time.
“He didn’t say. He just said dinner,” I reply, not paying her a lot of attention as I double-check I have money for a cab to get home from the city, assuming that is where we are going.
