“Oh shut up, I’m nothing like my mom.” But Beth was grinning, knowing that as much as she liked to deny it, she and her mom had always been similar.
“Sure, Donna, keep telling yourself that,” Sarah teased, popping another cracker into her mouth.
Beth shot daggers at her with those intense blue eyes, and Sarah couldn’t help but laugh.
The daggers morphed into a glare, only making Sarah smile wider, before Beth inhaled deeply, continuing with her weekend recap. “And then Sunday rolled around. Tori—my date from Friday—texted me. I got all excited thinking we would be setting up our second date, but no. It was a text letting me know she’s getting back with her ex, and while she had fun on Friday, she needs to prioritize making that relationship work.”
Beth took a sip from her glass as Sarah leaned against the counter opposite her, trying not to reward the tiny piece of herself currently jumping up and down with excitement that Beth was back at square one when it came to dating.Seriously, Sarah? So mature.
“And I truly must be a masochist because right after that, I decided to try and paint only for it to end the same way it always does. With absolutely nothing.” She paused, taking a breath. “Anyways, here’s to me continuing the theme of this year, which is that I’m a hot mess express of a human these days.”
“You’re not a hot mess,” Sarah said gently. And she meant it. “You’re just a little…lost. But we all get a little lost sometimes, so that’s okay.”
“You don’t,” Beth said quietly, catching her off guard. “You’ve always known exactly what you’re doing and what comes next.”
Sarah laughed, looking down into the wine glass cradled in her hands. “I wish that were true, but no, I definitely do not always know what I’m doing, or what’s coming next.” She looked up, catching Beth’s eye, letting herself get lost for a moment in the familiar comfort of her gaze.
Sarah debated whether to open up to Beth about how messy her life had truly felt since the end of their marriage, how she had felt stuck in a proverbial waiting room, not knowing how to move on. For the better part of a decade, she had felt like she was drifting until Nell offered her a tether in the shape of one of the most meaningful relationships she had ever had, along with a new career opportunity running the Stanhope Giving Foundation.
“Turns out I’m human just like everyone else,” she said, deciding it was best not to open those old wounds and to enjoy this evening for what it was—a chance to help Beth.
Beth’s blue eyes lingered on her, studying her with the same intensity she studied the beautiful things she brought to life in her paintings, and for a moment, Sarah thought she was going to press her for more, but she didn’t.
“So,” Sarah said, pushing off the counter, straightening herself. “I have a surprise for you.”
Beth arched a brow. “Yeah, your text on Sunday mentioned one. I’ll admit I’ve been a little curious. Your surprises have always been legendary.”
Sarah couldn’t help the small swell of excitement at Beth’s praise, the warmth of it spreading through her.
“So—uh—the surprise,” she stammered, wincing at her slightly flustered tone.Pull it together. You’re just doing something nice for her.She reached for her wine glass, moving towards the living room. “Do you remember in college you made us go seeThe Princess Diaries?”
A wide smile cracked across Beth’s lips as she grabbed her wine, following her down the hall.
“Oh my god, yes! I forgot about that. Your roommate made those pot brownies, remember? That was such a fun night.”
Sarah’s lips twitched at the memory. They had purposefully picked a later showing and giggled all the way through the movie, hands roaming each other’s thighs, making out in the dark in a way that, looking back now, felt so free.
“Yeah,” she breathed, heat rising in her cheeks as she remembered. “Do you remember how obsessed you got with that scene where they throw the darts at the paint-filled balloons? You told me that night that your favorite part of making art was creating from a place of joy. Well, I don’t have balloons, but we’re going to make some art out of joy tonight.”
Beth’s curious smile fell as they entered the living room, looking around at the materials Sarah had set up earlier. “I don’t understand,” she said slowly.
Sarah used her phone to turn on music—specifically a playlist of all of the songs she knew Beth liked to dance to.
“We’re having a dancing paint party.” Sarah beamed as she pulled off her socks, cuffing her pants to avoid ruining them. Beth followed her lead. “C’mon,” she encouraged, grabbing one of the tubes of paint from the coffee table.
Beth reached for a tube of yellow paint, cautiously turning it over in her hands. “So we’re just going for it? Paint on canvas and dancing?”
Sarah hesitated, feeling Beth’s energy shift from excited curiosity to a quiet timidness that was so unlike her.
“I thought it could be a fun way to get over your painter’s block. You know, create in a way that’s so different from how you usually do, but we don’t have to if you don’t?—”
A rush of blond waves moving towards her cut off her sentence, and Sarah stumbled back a step as Beth flung her arms around her neck, pulling her into a hug. Sarah stood frozen to the spot as all the memories of every hug, every touch, every kiss with Beth spilled out of the box in her mind labeled DO NOT OPEN that she had worked so hard to seal shut.
This was a bad idea.
Sarah drew in a short breath, arms instinctively wrapping around Beth’s waist, pulling her close, bodies pressing together in an almost too perfect kind of way. The warmth of it was exquisite as she breathed in lavender and nostalgia, closing her eyes.
But then Beth pulled away. “Let’s paint.” She beamed, stepping barefoot onto the canvas, Sarah behind her.
