Lace and Paint (True Colors Book 1)

by Ally Sky

  “You’ll go to Pret a Manger wearing that dress, just for coffee?” He grimaces.

  “Okay, maybe I’ll change my clothes first.”

  “Okay.”

  “Now that I’ve eaten, do you still want to meet me at the park, or have you had enough of my problems for one day?” I stare at him, wondering if he still wants to spend the day with me.

  “What do you say we both go and change clothes and meet in an hour at Pret?” he offers.

  “Sounds perfect,” I agree. We get up and put on our evening attire again. Ben passes on the tie and jacket and sticks his shirt into his pants. God, he looks good.

  I put on my dress and shoes.

  “How are you getting home?” I ask, as Ben closes the door of the suite behind us and presses the elevator. I feel stupid going out into the street dressed like this and taking the tube. I hope I have money in my purse.

  “In a cab. I’ll let you off next to the house.” He doesn’t look at me. He’s still troubled about what happened in the shower.

  “Okay, and while you’re changing clothes, change your mood as well,” I snap.

  Ben is waiting for me outside my favorite coffee shop. He’s wearing a faded pair of jeans, a white T-shirt, which clings to his chest, those Adidas shoes I love, and is carrying a small backpack on his back. He looks like a student on a break between classes, and I smile to myself.

  “Hi, sorry I’m late. Have you been waiting a long time?” I feel bad. I didn’t think I was late. Maybe he was early?

  I’m wearing dark blue skinny jeans and my favorite oversized shirt, which falls off my shoulders, and I have on my flats.

  “No, I arrived just this minute.”

  We go inside and I order my regular coffee. Ben takes a bottle of freshly squeezed orange juice from the fridge and insists on paying.

  “I really can afford it.” I cock my head with a smile.

  “I know. I sign your paycheck, remember?” He smiles good-naturedly and we leave the coffee shop, cross the road, and enter the park.

  We stroll through the pathways. Squirrels dash around the trees and ducks cross our path. I drink my coffee and we enjoy the quiet.

  “I hope you’ve turned off your phone. I don’t want any interruptions while I’m enjoying myself at the park.” I smile and steal a glance at Ben through my sunglasses.

  “I turned it off. I don’t want any interruptions, either.” He smiles, not looking my way.

  Ben leads the way, clasping my hand gently and walking on the grass, until we’re standing in the shadow of one of the huge oak trees. He opens his bag, pulls out a thin blanket, and spreads it.

  He’s amazing. Has he thought of everything?

  “Let’s sit.” He straightens the blanket and I take off my shoes and sit down cross-legged. He settles next to me, then lies down, resting his head on my thigh. He looks up at me and our eyes meet. Ah, be still, my poor heart.

  “You see, this is what I consider a perfect outing.” He smiles and closes his eyes. I stroke his head peacefully, a happy smile on my lips. It is what it is? Because it certainly feels like something else.

  “Your family came all the way from the north.”

  “Yeah.” His face lights up, showing just how close he is to them.

  “Your parents are very nice,” I continue. “Your mother looks very lively and your father…” I fall silent.

  “And my father?” He opens his eyes and looks at me solemnly.

  “Your father reminds me of mine.”

  “You miss your father,” he says, without taking his eyes off me.

  “Sometimes.” My voice starts to shake. “But I think Danny misses him more.”

  “Weren’t you close?”

  “Just toward the end.” I stare resolutely at the pathway, trying to focus on something besides those green eyes, which might make me cry. “If I’d known he was going to go…”

  “Was it sudden?”

  “A heart attack. One minute he was here, and the next he was gone. It was a long time before I felt his absence,” I continue. This man, who doesn’t want to be my boyfriend, has conversations with me that I’ve never had with anyone else—not with my mother, not with Danny, and certainly not with any of the men I’ve known.

  “Really?” My response surprises him.

  “Yes.” I shrug slightly, my hand still caressing his head. “I wasn’t living at home and I hadn’t bothered visiting for some time, and then I got the damn phone call.”

  “Talia,” he says, pain in his voice, his hand caressing my cheek. I close my eyes for a second, letting my thoughts go back to that evening. I open them and refocus on the pathway.

  “I was just watching television and drinking coffee, alone, in my apartment in Tel Aviv. The phone rang. Danny was on the line. The second he said my name, I knew something was wrong. But I never would’ve guessed what he was going to tell me.” My voice chokes. I really don’t want to cry. “And he said, ‘kiddo, I have some bad news’. I remember my heart pounding. And then he just said dad had a heart attack and nothing could be done, or something like that. I can’t remember his exact words. I blacked out after that.”

  Ben looks at me his eyes so soft my heart squeezes.

  “Did you go home immediately?” he almost whispers.

  “No, it was really late. I went the following morning.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “I asked a close friend to come and stay with me. I wanted to sort out my thoughts before dealing with my mother. It was a long night, with lots of crying and cigarettes and coffee.” My eyes mist up as I look down at Ben.

  “And Danny?”

  “Danny was so close to him.” It hurts so much when I think of that week, when we sat shiva. Danny was destroyed, and all I wanted was for it to be over so I could run back to Tel Aviv. “I think a hole as big as a football field opened up in his heart. It was a terrible vacuum. For me it was just another day of not speaking to my dad. Almost a month passed before it started sinking in.”

  “Sweetheart…” His hand is warm and gentle on my face, and one brave tear breaks through all my barriers and falls down my cheek. Ben wipes it away with his thumb.

  “I think that’s why Danny worries about me so much. He feels responsible, because dad isn’t here and my mother isn’t exactly fit to look out for me. The opposite of your mother, I think.” I sigh quietly.

  “My parents really are amazing.” He caresses my cheek again. “And I really don’t want you to cry.”

  He pulls himself up toward me and kisses me on the lips. “I’m sorry about your father,” he comforts me.

  “Me too. And I really don’t want to cry, either.” I manage a smile into his green eyes and their pained look is replaced by one of relief. He doesn’t like it when I’m hurting. He doesn’t like it when I cry. He rests his head again on my thigh.

  “Okay, what book did you bring?” he asks with interest.

  “Harry Potter.” My smile widens.

  “Really?” he asks in surprise.

  “Yes.”

  I saw the books on his shelf. I know what my man likes. And, to be honest, I’ve also read all seven of them more than once. During one of my outings to Camden, I bought a copy, and it turned out to be a smart decision.

  “You like Harry Potter?” He finds it hard to believe.

  “What’s there not to like? Magicians, explosions, and good fighting evil?”

  “I can’t believe it.” He’s amused. “I grew up on Harry Potter. The first book came out when I was thirteen. I can’t believe that’s what you brought. Which one did you choose?”

  “The first one. I haven’t read it for a while. I thought we’d start at the beginning.” I smile triumphantly.

  “You knew,” he looks at me teasingly, “that I liked Harry Potter.”

  “The books on your shelf are tattered enough to give you away.”

  “You keep surprising me.” He’s enchanted. “Great. We’ll start from the beginning. Now read to me.” He cl
oses his eyes, and I take the thick book out of the bag and start reading out aloud.

  As I sit on the sofa in the basement at nine in the evening, I try to go over the events of the day. My heart races, refusing to calm down. The shower, the annoying conversation that followed, the blanket on the grass, talking about my father, reading Harry Potter to Ben while he rested his head on my thigh, his eyes closed, escaping to a world of magicians, curses, and big, dark wars. My man listened to my voice, which sent him back to the age of thirteen. And he looked so content.

  I read for two hours straight. We didn’t budge from that blanket. And when we got up Ben looked at me with bright, confusing eyes before he said goodbye to me with a peck on the cheek. I took the tube home and he went for a walk in the park.

  Later on I made supper for Danny and John, both of whom wanted to know how my day with Tom was and I made up some convincing, but make-believe, story. However, my thoughts were far away, thinking of the man with his bright eyes, who I had left in the park. It is what it is. He’s not changing his mantra.

  A response from Hayden Globe: Going out to bars is a nice, ordinary pastime, which you like. But what about the things he likes to do?

  It’s already Friday. I’ve been thinking about this response since I read it on Tuesday. What about the things he likes to do? I know so little about him. The “dates” I’d arranged for him at the Hawksmoor, and then, afterwards, at the Archangel, made it clear to me that Ben doesn’t want me meddling in his business. And I don’t want to do anything that will rock this little boat we’re in.

  My thoughts keep going in loops, and the past few nights have been literally sleepless. My body is letting me know—in almost every possible way—that what I’m doing is taking me high, much higher than I should be. When I finally do fall asleep, horrible dreams creep in and I jerk awake in fright, rushing down to the basement in a failed attempt to eliminate them. The past is haunting me, hurting me, and reminding me why I ran away. I paint for hours, longing for my man, who is busy with work, and hasn’t hugged me since Sunday at the park.

  And now this response. What about the things he likes to do?

  I can’t imagine what will happen when he gets the tickets. The entire week, I ran around the galleries, smiling and handing out business cards. Who would’ve believed one painting on one of the walls could’ve given me such a good idea. I can only hope the implementation of it will be just as good. And it all depends on him, if he decides to show up. I miss him all the time.

  Last night I slipped the invitation under his front door, hoping he would find it in the morning.

  It’s not Lady Islington. Fancy clothes won’t be necessary.

  But I’ll wait for you there…

  I included a round-trip train ticket.

  I don’t even know if he’s made any other plans for the weekend. After all, it’s only for one night.

  An afternoon breeze is blowing. I’m standing outside the Kent train station, my eyes searching for him.

  My hair is wild and my curls are flying in the wind. I left it down on purpose. Ben loves my curls. And if he arrives, if he gets off the train, I want to be waiting for him, wild and mischievous, just as he likes.

  I hear the train pulling into the station. I’m not breathing. People are starting to leave the station and I’m looking for the familiar broad shoulders, the gorgeous smile, and my most favorite eyes in the whole world.

  Will he come?

  We hardly spoke this past week. Ben was so busy that, apart from some brief messages, he hardly replied to me at all. Danny also stayed in the office until late, so I understood I shouldn’t disturb them. I didn’t want to anger him and mess up the chances of spending the night with him.

  And then I see him coming out of the station. He’s wearing black jeans, a white T-shirt, and a brown sports jacket. His eyes are searching for me. My heart leaps with joy. Excitement replaces the anxiety I was feeling. He came all the way, in the train, with the ticket I slipped under his door.

  I have a huge smile on my face but I’m trying to stay calm. What I really want to do is to run to him and jump into his arms and kiss him. But I remain where I am. My man walks toward me slowly, he’s holding his black sports bag in his hand, and when he reaches me, he places it on the floor and his smile widens.

  “Hi.” I can’t take the stupid smile off my face.

  “Hi, beautiful.”

  “I wasn’t sure you’d come,” I murmur awkwardly.

  “My curiosity got the better of me,” he replies cheekily.

  “Oh…” I manage to say. His curiosity—and what about me? Didn’t he want to see me? “So let’s go and satisfy your curiosity.”

  I start walking, but a strong hand grabs me and pulls me toward him. Before I can react, his lips are on mine, his tongue is in my mouth, kissing me passionately, and my body responds immediately. I put my arms around him and stroke his hair. I can smell his aftershave and familiar tingles run through my legs.

  “I’ve missed your taste.” He takes a deep breath and bites down on my lip. “You smell amazing.”

  He knows what to say. He knows exactly what words to choose.

  “You’ve been busy,” I whisper in between his kisses.

  “Yes,” his voice is low, quiet.

  “I’m glad you came.”

  “Me too.” He pulls away from me and bends down to pick up his bag. “What have you got planned for us?”

  I lead the way. It’s not far, just a ten-minute walk. The narrow path leads us away from the station and into the green fields. The wind is blowing and my curls are going crazy.

  “Your hair has a life of its own.” He laughs aloud.

  “Yes.” I smile in return, resisting the urge to pin it up.

  “Where are we?”

  “In a meadow…” I don’t give away any more details. Ben grabs my hand and holds it tight, and wonderful chills go up my arm and tickle my stomach. I can’t wait. I just want to get out of these clothes and feel him already, feel his exposed skin and stroke him for hours.

  We’re walking down the path and there are no other people around. There’s just the tall grass and green cornfields.

  At the far end of the field stands a big caravan. I lead him to it with a smile.

  “You said you love being in nature…” I can see the look of amazement on his face.

  “Are you serious?”

  “What were you expecting—a small boutique hotel?” I laugh aloud.

  “The truth is I never know what to expect from you.”

  “Forgive me it’s not a double tent in the woods. There’s a limit to the level of comfort I’m prepared to compromise on.” I climb the steps, open the small door, and go inside.

  The caravan I chose is well equipped and accessorized. It has a large bed, a bathroom with a small shower, and a tiny kitchenette. I turn the light on. Ben comes in right after me and throws his bag next to the door.

  Bill made sure to place us far away from anyone. And we’re alone in nature.

  “What do you think?” I ask apprehensively. Maybe he thinks the whole idea is terrible. Maybe I was completely off the mark.

  “Talia…” He comes to me and my heart races. His hands go to my waist and pull me in. I let out a cry of surprise. His face is so close, I can feel his breath. “It’s perfect.”

  He looks into my eyes and kisses me hard, biting my lower lip. It’s been a week already and my body aches for him. He doesn’t have to say a thing. His kiss says it all. He’s missed me as well.

  I lift my dress and tug it over my head, baring my breasts to him. He grabs his T-shirt and pulls it off in one go and my hands instantly go to his skin, sliding over his back, exploring the smooth expanse beneath my fingertips. He picks me up and carries me to the bed lying me down on the pillows. I watch mesmerized as he opens the buttons of his pants, and kicks off his shoes without taking his eyes off me. My tongue tingles and my pulse races as his pants fall to the ground and he gets into bed in h
is boxer shorts, pulling me in tight and stealing my breath with a kiss.

  “Where do you get all your ideas from?” he asks with a smile and I swallow. There’s no way I’m telling him. My blog is full of ideas, and my readers get full updates about their implementation.

  “I’m a creative girl, you know,” I answer.

  And when I’m not creative enough, there are plenty of people who think for me…

  He runs his fingers in my wild hair and pulls my head back.

  “I love your curls.”

  “I know.”

  “I don’t want to talk anymore. It’s been too long and I want you.”

  “So, a weekend in the village?” he asks as we lie in bed.

  “One night. I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

  “I wasn’t sure either,” he replies with a huge grin. “I did have other plans.” My eyes open in surprise. He had plans? But here he is…

  “Oh…” I swallow. “What happened to them?”

  “I cancelled them,” he answers contentedly. “Okay, seeing as you’re in charge of this production, what’s next?”

  “A picnic,” I reply cheerfully.

  “Sounds great.” He sits up on the queen-size bed. “I love your surprises.”

  He loves my surprises. Even without the double tent. I sit up and look for my clothes, strewn all over the floor.

  “It’s about time you remembered to dress warmly.” He looks at the sweater I remembered to put on. I miss the heavy heat, which I’ve always loved. Since arriving here, I’m starting to get used to the idea I may never feel hot again.

  We walk away from the caravan and Ben carries the picnic basket I filled with a blanket, bread, cheese, red wine, and a Harry Potter book, before he arrived.

  We find ourselves a level spot on the grass and I spread the blanket as Ben removes his shoes and sits down.

  “Aren’t you a camping kind of girl?” He looks at me with curious, green eyes.

  “I think I had my fair share of sleeping in tents in the army,” I chuckle.

  He’s taken aback. “You were in the army?” What’s obvious to me isn’t obvious to him at all.