“I think you should aim higher. Anyone can work at an accounting firm. You need to think bigger. What would make you happiest?”
“I like helping people. I like to think I’m making a difference in someone’s life.” She shrugs, suddenly reticent. She looks down at the napkin in her lap. “You were right, you know? When you said I need to feel indispensable. That I need to feel I matter, and that I won’t be . . . thrown away.”
My chest constricts at the reminder of that insensitive comment I made yesterday. Her quiet reminder of it now makes me feel as if I’ve just been kicked in the solar plexus. I fucking should be. “I was a prick to say that to you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
She glances up at me, her gaze tender, apologetic. “I didn’t mean any of the awful things I said about you, either. But you were right about me, Jared. I’ve been taking care of my mom and Katie because I like knowing they need me.”
“No.” I reach over and wrap my fingers around hers. “You’ve been taking care of them because you’re a good person. You’re strong and loyal, the kind of person everyone wishes they had in their life. You’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met.”
She smiles, turning her hand so our fingers are laced together. “I think you’re pretty special, too. I thought I had you figured out the moment I met you, but I was wrong. You’re so much more than you want people to believe.”
“I’m not.” I pull my hand away, uncomfortable with her praise. Especially when there are too many things she doesn’t yet know about me. Things that would bring this moment crashing down around me. “Just because I’ve given you a few spectacular orgasms, don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m not the same self-absorbed, overbearing asshole you first met.”
She slowly shakes her head. “I don’t know many self-absorbed, overbearing assholes who sponsor art programs for underprivileged kids.”
I’m shocked she remembers I told her that. Then again, nothing should shock me when it comes to her.
“Tell me about the rec center program you mentioned.” She lifts the burger and takes another bite, patiently waiting for me to speak.
“Dominic Baine’s fiancée, Avery, persuaded me to get involved in that. She and I met at Dominion gallery the same year she hooked up with Nick.”
“I know her work,” Melanie says. “She’s an incredibly talented artist.”
“Yes, she is. She’s also got a kind heart, like you. The rec center in Chelsea means everything to Nick and her. It’s the first center he built, and the one where they test out new programs and events for the kids. She’d been wanting to install an art program for a while. Not the typical paint-by-numbers bullshit kids might expect, but something to truly inspire as well as instruct.”
“It sounds amazing. What’s your role in the program?”
“I help fund it, primarily. I also call in favors and twist arms within the art world to bring in creators to talk to the kids and teach an occasional class. I have to admit, I’m proud of the people I’ve been able to introduce the kids to. These are artists the public would generally only recognize by their works on display in important galleries and museums.”
She grins. “Wow. What a self-absorbed, overbearing asshole you are, Jared.”
I chuckle, marveling at the ease with which she can draw me into her light. “If you want to know the truth, I’m doing it for Kathryn. Helping the kids at the rec center—especially good kids who just need a break, like Alyssa—makes me feel I’m doing something worthwhile. Alyssa’s got a real gift for painting. With the right guidance and opportunity, I think she could turn that natural ability into something truly extraordinary.”
“And that’s what you’re providing for her and the rest of those kids in the program. Guidance and opportunity. Even more than that, I think.”
“I want to give them a chance to lift themselves up, not let a few bad choices or a shitty home life destroy them for good.”
“Because that’s what Kathryn Tremont did for you.”
I nod. “It’s the only way I know how to pay her kindness forward.”
Melanie’s gaze is soft and thoughtful. “I’m sure she’d like that. Have you ever considered starting a school of your own?”
“Christ, no. Even if I had the interest, I don’t have room in my life for the kind of commitment that would require. I’ve never been a long-term kind of guy. And now . . .”
I don’t have to say the words out loud for Melanie to pick up on them. She studies me with a compassionate, yet practical gaze.
“You can’t stop living or doing the things you enjoy, Jared. That includes painting. I think you should keep creating as long as you can. I think you need to paint, almost as much as you need to breathe.”
I feel myself nodding in agreement, even though there’s a gnashing fear inside me that’s screaming at me to let my art go. To give up.
Melanie’s tender affection is the only thing that’s ever been powerful enough to silence it, even for a minute.
I push my empty plate away and hold my hand out for her, an invitation for her to come sit with me on my chair. She steps over and settles on my lap. I hold her there, both of us looking out at the calm tide for a long while.
Her fingers play idly in my hair. “You seem so much more relaxed out here than in the city.”
“I love the ocean,” I admit. “Especially when the waves are green like they are today. They make me think of Kentucky pastures, all the rolling hills on the farm. There’s nothing in the city that evens me out like being here does.”
