This man, who couldn’t make it work before, wants to make it work with me.
“Two weeks,” he says against my hair. “Maybe three. I need to deal with the lease. Renegotiate my contracts. The consulting work is location-independent, but there are logistics.”
“I know.”
“And then I’m coming back to you and Leo.”
“I know that too.”
“And I’m taking the office across from your studio. Leo already offered.”
I pull back. “You two planned this without me?”
“We discussed logistics.” His mouth twitches. “You were asleep. We didn’t want to wake you.”
“Because you’d exhausted me into a coma.”
“Accurate.” There’s no apology in his tone.
I rise on my toes and kiss him, slow and deep. His hand cups the back of my neck, and he kisses me back with all the love he feels for me spilling out.
When we pull apart, his forehead rests against mine. “I’ll be back as quickly as I can.”
“You better.”
He’s smiling when he lets me go to get ready to leave. Everything is going to work out. I can feel it.
After he’s gone, I wander into my studio, feeling a little lost. The poetry book Dane gave me is on the table by the window, and my heart warms. He’ll be back.
I pick out a brush and paint. I don’t know what I’m making. Blue first. Sweeping it across the canvas. Then gold bleedinginto the edges. Then warm strokes that remind me of skin and sunlight and desire. It’s messy and wild and the proportions are all wrong.
I don’t care, because I’m finally painting in a house that belongs to one of the men I love. There’s a poetry book on the table left by another man who loves me.
I’m so absorbed I don’t hear Leo come in. “Lass.”
I turn with the brush still in my hand. I’m already a mess, with paint all over my fingers.
He’s leaning against the doorframe in his meeting clothes, but he’s undone the top button and rolled the sleeves to his forearms. The afternoon light catches the silver at his temples.
“You’re painting,” he says, warmly.
“I’m making a terrible mess.”
“Good.” He crosses the room and stops behind me. He looks at the canvas over my shoulder. “It’s a start,” he says.
“It’s awful.”
“It’s yours. That’s what matters.”
He wraps his arms around me from behind, and I lean into him. His heartbeat is steady against my shoulder blade, and I’m struck by how right this feels.
“Dane left,” I say.
“I know.” Leo presses a kiss to my hair. “He asked me to make sure you ate lunch. He’s already managing the household, and he hasn’t even moved in yet.”
I smile. “He talked to me about Claire and how he didn’t want kids with her, but he does with me.”
“Aye?”
