“Can’t sleep?” Kael asks.
“You neither?”
He props himself on one elbow. In the low light he looks more serious. “This is usually when I’d bounce. Set an early alarm. Disappear before the lights come on. You know.”
He exhales loudly, and my chest ratchets down to reinstall all the defenses I’d just torn down.
“Ah,” I say lightly. “Here I was thinking we were being romantic.”
He scrubs a hand over his face, then looks at me again. “That’s the thing. I don’t want to leave. That’s why I can’t sleep.”
“That’s…” I huff a quiet laugh. “Kind of a terrible habit.” My thumb brushes his jaw. “Good thing you’re breaking it.”
“I have to make art,” he says. “If we’re going to do this, you have to know that.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your, uh, policy. You don’t do one-night stands.” He sits up. “So I’m just saying. My art will always come first.”
My policy was actually to swear off relationships until after FIRE, but that rule couldn’t survive Kael.
“Are you asking if I’ll circle yes or no?” I sit up too, and mime passing him a folded-up note.
“You’re ruining this.” He shoves my shoulder.
“You’re the one laying down relationship rules right after getting me naked.”
“I just don’t want to surprise you later.”
I hook an arm around his waist and pull him back down beside me. “Please,” I murmur against his skin. “I think I like your kind of surprises.”
“Can do,” he says. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you. So… what are you circling?”
“Yes,” I say. “I circle Yes.”
Our legs intertwine. Instead of burning, we simmer, indulging in this new, exhilarating connection. It’s like January second or the start of Lent and all my resolutions are already crumbling. I was never built for abstinence anyway.
His kisses ease me toward sleep, and when I wake, morning light filters in through the blinds.
Kael’s not in bed, and every warning I’ve ignored flares back to life in my gut. Then his voice drifts in under the door. He’s not gone. He’s in the living room. I yank on shorts and a T-shirt and follow it.
“There he is,” Sharon says. My cheeks heat, and I rake a hand through my hair. “Breakfast?”
Kael stands by the window, sunlight gilding his skin and illuminating Sharon’s easel as if to prove this place really does have some kind of magic. Seeing him barefoot, glowing, and grinning washes away the last of my anxiety.
“That sounds amazing,” I say, but my feet are carrying me toward Kael instead of the kitchen.
I hesitate. Yesterday we told Sharon and Walt we weren’t…
Then his mouth brushes my cheek, his hand finding my arm in a light, easy squeeze. He steps aside to show me what he’s working on: our canvas, the half-finished project that started this whole improbable adventure. The chains, clippers, and watering can are now rendered in lifelike detail. The money tree is the biggest change. He’s set its leaves ablaze with orange and gold.
“I was inspired,” he says softly.
“I think it looks like wings,” Sharon says, peering over our shoulders.
She’s wrong. He’s painted something too raw and wild to be wings. Somehow, he’s painted us.
“It’s incredible,” I breathe, standing beside him. “How long have you been awake?”
