“You won’t,” Eliza chirps with the enthusiasm of a daycare teacher talking to a difficult toddler. “You’ll give it personality.”
It never ceases to amaze me how she threads optimism and hope into every aspect of her life. My privileged upbringing should have given me the same colorful view. That a mistake here and there doesn’t matter. That not everything has to be perfect.
But then I’d be living a lie. I can’t take the risk of showing my imperfections. There’s a reason my painting room was always locked when people came over. Nothing I created there had to beflawless. The image of it trashed and stomped on still sours my stomach.
But I can’t refuse Eliza when she looks at me with those puppy dog eyes, so I peel myself out of the cozy spot and follow her out back.
“Why don’t you invite Blanca and Will here when they come back?” She asks as we cross toward the barn Carter built to house her endless creativity.
When they materialized in town, I hadn’t thought much of it. I was genuinely happy to see them. But pondering it afterward, something about the entire visit had felt…off. A subtle discomfort I couldn’t quite shake. I couldn’t ignore the underlying sense that certain moments were too choreographed.
Like Blanca conveniently disappearing at just the right times, leaving Will and me alone in scenes that felt a little too intentionally romantic.
When I told her what had happened between us in London, and that we’d left it at that once I was back in New York, she’d reacted like I’d missed the last train to my happily ever after.
“Carter might pop a vein if any more strangers cross his doorstep this summer,” I say. “It’s fine. They give me a reason to head into town.”
I keep my tone casual, but I’m honestly relieved that I get to use this excuse. I don’t want to mix company right now. Especially when Adam is here. Blanca has never been subtle about her opinion of him, or his roots. She’s made that abundantly clear. Repeatedly.
I stopped trying to change her mind a long time ago.
“Hm. You know we wouldn’t mind if you brought friends. It must be hard. Always surrounded by so many people, then suddenly getting stuck here with the two of us.”
“There’s no one else I want to see.”
“Really? But you talk about all these people and go to so many fancy events.”
“I’ve decided to keep only the friends who weren’t using me to get into my brother’s pants.”
Laughter bubbles out of Eliza, ringing out clearly in the evening hush. “Um…not to be crass. But I am. I did…” she stammers. “I mean…You know what I mean.”
I grin at the embarrassment blooming over her cheeks. “Yeah, but you didn’t lie to my face about it. Somehow, Mr. Grumpy found you all by himself.”
If Carter’s office was a study in minimalism, Eliza’s space is glorious chaos. An explosion of colors and textures, cans of paint, tools, fabrics, boxes of accessories, a drawing easel, and brushes of all sizes line the walls and work benches in her barn.
She points to everything we need, and we sit at the long oak worktop, a dirty-looking wooden box between us.
“We clean it first,” Eliza says, passing me one of the cloths. “I hope we can get the grime off without whipping out the vinegar.” She scrunches her nose and makes a mock gagging noise. “I hate the smell more than you hate bugs.”
I laugh, scrubbing my side. “I’ll do my best, but I haven’t had too much practice.”
The Rawlings didn’t do manual labor. Even when I moved out to live on my own, my parents wouldn’t budge on me having at least one live-in member of cleaning staff. Most probably, it was also a way to keep tabs on me.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed about,” Eliza says kindly, then smirks. “I’d be more worried about your driving skills.”
“Have you been talking to Adam?” I huff. “If you listen to his version of events, I almost killed him once or twice.”
“The man you can’t stand to be in the same room with?” She grabs a small brush and hands me another. “Use that for the carvings. You gave him a ride?”
Her easy manner loosens something in me. I know it deep in my bones that she’s safe. I’ve been holding this secret for so long, I’ll implode if I don’t share it. “This was eight years ago. When we were…together.” My voice is close to cracking. “We used to have so much fun.”
She makes a good effort to seem neutral, but the startled look spreading across her features betrays her shock. “What changed? Now you look ready to kill each other. Or—” She pauses for a moment, resting the end of her brush on her chin. “Fuck. It really is a fine line.”
Telling her too much might make her view him differently, and I don’t want that. “I-I had to leave New York. Broke things off, and he wasn’t too happy about it.”
I leave out the part where I was heartbroken and how much it hurts to be so close to him. He makes it harder to deny that I might not have gotten over us.
“Hm.” Eliza hums, dragging the brush over the wood. “Weird dynamic. I could’ve sworn he came here for you.”
