She turned to look at him.
“I wanted to capture the place where you first unlocked that true creative confidence of yours.”
That image was the one that effectively changed her life. She’d sold it—along with a series of other sea-life inspired macro shots—to a buyer at top dollar, launching her career as an up-and-coming photographer and helping her with the down payment on her beloved beach house.
Her original goal had been to photograph the ocean seascape, but Edie quickly recognized she was much more drawn to work where the physical subject was smaller in scale. She loved portrait photography, and it turned out that taking portraits of starfish, shells, and even sand crabs was much more her speed. She’d found her niche.
But what she’d failed to capture—that full landscape style of photography—Cal had managed to encompass on a single canvas. Despite the blur of paint and the flurry of brushstrokes, Edie could almost feel the warm sand between her toes, smell the tangy ocean air that brought her right back to that day when she’d snapped that life-changing shot.
She stood back on shaky feet. “It’s perfect.”
“You recognize it now?”
“Not only visually, but in here.” She pressed a hand to her chest, right above her heart. “I canfeelthis image, Cal. Relive it like a memory.”
He blew out a breath like he’d bottled up all his worry and it came rushing out with relief. “That’s what I was going for. I’m so glad you get it. Art doesn’t always translate.”
“But yours does.” She blinked up at him. “For me it does, at least.”
“And you’re the only one that matters.”
He said the phrase in passing as he collected a brush from the table and a tube of cobalt blue paint from nearby. Even as he got to work adding strokes here and there, Cal acted like those words weren’t a truth bomb. But they were. They rocked Edie so hard, her reaction was physical. She slumped against the butcherblock, needing something to keep her upright.
“Cal?”
“Hmm?” He stayed focused on the canvas, answering without turning his head toward her.
“What are we doing?”
“With the gala?” He just shrugged as he swept another brushstroke of paint across the center of the piece where the ocean met the sky. “Good question. Doesn’t feel like much, other than a lot of bickering and disagreement about every last detail. Not on your end, but—”
“I don’t mean with the gala. I mean what are you and I doing? What is this?” She waved a hand back and forth in the space between them.
He paused. Set down his brush and paint. When he turned around, there was a purely helpless look pulling at his features, one she hadn’t ever seen this typically confident man wear.
“I don’t know, Edie.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “At least, I don’t know what it is on your end. But on mine, it’s me trying to let you know that I want another chance. That I’m willing to fight for you. For us.”
“Can I be honest?” She sucked in a breath that filled her whole chest.
“Of course. Always.”
“I don’t want to be fought over,” she said. “I don’t want to be some prize to be won. Maybe some women like that, but I don’t.”
Cal dipped his head in a single nod. “I get it. And it’s never been my intention to put you in the middle like that. It’s just obvious Josh likes you, and I don’t know.” His shoulders lifted to his ears. “I guess I’m kind of threatened by that.”
“Are you worried I like him?”
“Do you?”
She paused, unsure how to answer honestly. “Yes. I do.”
Cal’s hopeful look dropped from his face. “I know. And it shouldn’t bother me the way that it does. But I’m in love with you, Edie, and to watch you fall in love with another man—”
“I’m not falling in love with anyone,” she interrupted, knowing the statement was only half-true. Because she had beenin love with Cal not all that long ago, and it would be a lie to say some of those feelings hadn’t resurfaced recently.
But was she fully in love with him now? She couldn’t be sure, and that was something she needed to figure out. For the sake of their relationship—working and otherwise—and for the sake of her creative spirit.
CHAPTER TWELVE
