“Yah look like yah de cat dat ate de clumsy bird,” Celly observed with a keen eye. “What’s put dat silly grin on yah face?”
“Oh, it’s just a beautiful day and I’m loving life,” Lilah answered, going to the T-shirts and straightening. Then she remembered her sonogram pictures and fished them from her pocket to thrust at Celly. “Look! New pics of the babies,” she said.
Celly gazed at the pictures and grimaced. “It’s a good ting we don’t always see what’s growing. Looks like an alien. I wait until de babies get here, when dey no longer raw.”
Lilah chuckled. “Okay. No more sonogram pictures for you.”
“Is dat all you singing about?” she asked.
“Well, mostly,” Lilah said.
“Yah a bad liar, girl. Spit it out.”
“Okay, I’m going to dinner with Justin tonight. He’s taking me to Allamanda.”
Celly whistled her approval. “Fancy eatin’. What’s the occasion? Yah agree to let him be yah mon?”
Lilah colored and laughed uncomfortably. “Unfortunately, it’s not so simple as just allowing him to be a part of my life. We love each other but sometimes you have to look at the bigger picture. He has a promising political career that he has to protect and knocking up an island girl probably wasn’t on his agenda.”
“Agendas change,” Celly said stubbornly with a glower. “He’s not being a mon and standing up to his responsibility?”
“Oh, no, not at all,” Lilah exclaimed, defending Justin. “I won’t let him throw everything away for me. Sure, it sounds good in the short term because selfishly, I want to be with him, but that’s a recipe for resentment later. I’d rather practice at being friends and that’s why he’s taking me to dinner. We’re going as friends.”
“Friends?” Celly repeated, not buying it for a second.
Lilah felt the heat crawl into her cheeks as the memory of the sexual tension that exploded between them before the doctor’s appointment returned full force, and she remembered how easily it would’ve been for them both to simply tear each other’s clothes off. That’s definitely not what a friend did to another friend. But Celly didn’t know that and there was no reason she should have to know.
“Yes,” Lilah maintained stubbornly. “Friends. It’s better this way.”
“So, let me understand...he wants to be in yah life wit de babies, but you’re pushing him away so he can be a politician? Girl, yah a bigger donkey dan I took yah for. Dat’s plain crazy talk and foolish to boot. Yah never push away a good mon. Evah. A good mon don’t just fall from de sky and land in yah lap. If a mon comes along wants to be a right mon and do well by his woman...yah let him!”
Lilah scowled a little, surprised by Celly’s brusque manner. “He wants to live in New York. I want to live here. It’s not going to work out anyway. We might as well admit to that now before things get messy. This way, we remain friends and Justin is always an active part of his kids’ lives.”
“How active can a mon be when he’s so far away?” Celly demanded to know. “Can a mon trow a ball to his son from New York? Can he teach a boy to ride a bike or swim from hundreds of miles away? Can he keep de boys away from his little girl from New York?”
“Of course not. I will do those things for the babies,” Lilah answered, stung. Pops surprised them all by chiming in with a growl.
“That no good man of Lisa’s...I knew he was a bad apple from the start. Do you know how I knew?” he asked without looking up from his task as he took great care in separating each colored shell. “When Lisa got pregnant with Lora, he wouldn’t even take time off for the birth. As it was he was damn late. Lora’d been born and bathed by the time he sauntered in, acting like he’d been the one to do all the work. Worthless, I tell you. I always thought he was worthless and Grams didn’t think much of him, neither.” He nodded as if listening to someone else who’d just validated his statement and then went back to his shell-sorting. “A real man makes sacrifices for the people he loves.”
Lilah was a bit stunned. Pops had never said a bad word against her father, although she’d always wondered how Pops had managed such restraint given how her father had broken her mom’s heart.
Celly gave a short nod of approval. “See, girl? Even yah Pops is saying yah mon is worth holding on to. He’s making plenty sacrifice for yah. Stop being a donkey and go after him.”
Lilah stared after Celly and Pops as they left the gift shop. Celly had always been so protective of her. Now she was practically thumping her on the head for being protective of herself. She told herself she was doing all this for Justin, but was she actually being selfish? Justin had the most to lose yet he was willing to risk whatever it took to have her and the babies around him.
Her elation slowly deflated. Was Celly right? The thought weighed heavily on her mind as she left to get ready.
* * *
JUSTIN HAD OFFERED TO pick up Lilah but she’d insisted on driving herself, which only made him realize his uphill battle was a steeper incline than he previously thought. But when she entered the upscale restaurant, wearing a pretty white linen sundress that molded to her rounded curves and distended stomach, he couldn’t help but stare. Her hair was twisted up in a messy twist, but the heat and the subsequent ride in the Jeep had already loosened a few strands to curl against the nape of her neck and frame her jaw. She looked delicate yet strong, a sexy contradiction that summed up Lilah perfectly. He immediately rose and pulled her chair out for her.
“Thank you, you didn’t have to do that,” she said with a shy smile that bordered on embarrassment.
“I didn’t have to, I wanted to. A woman should always be treated like a lady—that’s something my mom tried to pound into my head. Unfortunately, for a time I’d forgotten the lesson.”
“That’s sweet. Do you get along with your mother?” she asked, sliding into the seat and placing the napkin in her lap, though admittedly, there wasn’t much room for the napkin because of her belly.
Justin pulled his attention away from her body and busied himself with his own napkin, if only to have something to do because his mind was conjuring all sorts of activities that didn’t include a fork and spoon. How was it that she was becoming even more beautiful to him? He was spiraling deeper and deeper and there seemed no stopping his descent.
Last night, he couldn’t help his thoughts from wandering into X-rated territory, which certainly hadn’t helped his ability to sleep. Now, after the sonogram experience and the tease of sexual innuendo between them, he was burning hot with the desire to once again feel her close around him. Surely, this wasn’t normal. Her stomach was no longer flat and taut but it didn’t matter. He wanted to caress and kiss that rounded belly and hold her tightly each night. He wanted to coax those sweet little mewling noises from her throat as he touched her in intimate places and swallow her sharp breaths as he plunged inside her. He wanted to taste the nipples of each rapidly swelling breast until she writhed helplessly against her rising desire.
“Justin?”
Lilah’s gentle inquiry snapped Justin back to the present and he realized he’d gone on a mental walkabout as he’d fantasized about what he desperately wanted to do to her. “Ah, um, I’m sorry,” he stated with a flush. “Yes, you asked if I got along with my mom...yeah, mostly. She’s a proud woman with a soft center. She likes to organize charity balls and fancy dinners with seven-course meals and she loves to decorate for the holidays. Any holiday, actually. When you walk into her house, you have no doub
t what season you’re in. She has a full decorating staff to help her transform her house into a wonderland of expensive furnishings.”
“Oh,” Lilah said, a little subdued. “She sounds terrifying.”
Realizing he’d said the wrong thing, he tried to clarify. “My mom is very sweet. You’d probably like her a lot. I just don’t fully appreciate her talents because I’m a guy. To me, there is no difference between green and teal. And peach is not a color it’s a fruit.” At that Lilah giggled and he relaxed. “You know, now that I think about it, you and her would probably get along because of your artistic talents. My mom loves the arts. She can spend hours staring at dusty old paintings at the museums.”
“You don’t like art?”
“Yeah, I do. I just have a short attention span. I don’t want to analyze and discuss it for hours. I like what I like and I move on...unless it’s something I love. Then I purchase and put it on my walls but I still don’t want to have a discourse on form, shadow and light. I just want to enjoy it.” He paused, then took a chance that he knew could backfire. “I’d love to see your art.”
Lilah stilled, her expression becoming deadly serious. Or perhaps it was fear lurking in her gaze. Either way, somehow he knew if she were to show him her art, it would mean something to them both. “Why?” she whispered.
“Because I fell in love with an artist. Her art is a part of her and there isn’t a part of that woman that I don’t want to know and love.” Tears filled her eyes and she seemed to struggle with the words she wanted to say. He knew this was a turning point, something tremendously momentous between them. He pushed a little harder, not willing to give up any ground he’d gained inch by inch. “I think that woman I’m madly in love with is afraid of showing me her true self, and because her art is painted with her soul, and she’s afraid if I see the real her, I’ll run away.” She swallowed, her eyes becoming luminous. He reached out to grasp her hand from across the table. “But she doesn’t have to worry. Everything about her I love. There is nothing that could scare me away. Nothing.”
* * *
HER HEART HAMMERED AGAINST her breastbone almost to the point of pain. He’d seen her naked yet she’d never allowed him to see her. What he was asking...she nearly collapsed under the weight of it. He had no idea how right he was. Her art was a tangible expression of her soul and to let him see...would render her totally bare to his scrutiny. The fearful voices in her head whispered all the reasons why she ought to shut him down—self-preservation, sheltering fear and crippled self-esteem—but another voice, one that was growing stronger, almost shouting above the fearful chorus, urged her to take that leap and fly, to let go of the past and run with open arms into her future.
A future with Justin.
“What if you don’t like it?” What if you don’t like me? The real me?
“Impossible. I’ve caught glimpses and you’re amazing.”
She didn’t know how to respond. All her life she’d run away from anything that resembled commitment, whether it was romantic, personal or just responsibilities. She didn’t mean to run, she just ended up doing it and then regretted her actions later. Her instinct in this situation should’ve urged her to run, to remind him that they ought to simply remain friends. But that option wasn’t appealing in the least. She hated the idea of smiling and shrugging nonchalantly when Justin inevitably moved on with someone else because she’d continually pushed him away. She loathed the idea of not seeing him walk through the front door with a smile on his face reserved for her. And she particularly detested the idea of watching as someone else helped raise their babies when it was his visitation week or month. The cold hard fact of the situation was staring at her in the face, daring her to ignore what was plain: she loved him and she was willing to take the risk.
“If you’re not ready...” Justin started, disappointment in his tone, but Lilah cut in breathlessly, forcing the words out before she chickened out.
“Yes! Yes! You can see my art. I want to share that part of myself with you.”
Just please, please handle with care, she prayed fervently. There was so much riding on this one thing.
But she was going to leap—and hope she didn’t fall flat on her face.
Again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
LILAH LED JUSTIN TOWARD the atrium through the lighted path that provided a dim glow in the sultry night. The humidity was like a warm caress on her bare shoulders, an air kiss she’d come to love. Justin wiped away the sweat on his brow but otherwise didn’t complain; he was too focused on her.
Dinner had been exquisite but she felt mildly guilty for not enjoying the experience to its fullest. Her mind had been going in different places, but mostly she wondered how Justin would react to her art.
And now the moment was here.
She pushed open the glass atrium doors and walked inside. The closed heat was nearly stifling and so she left the doors open. Within minutes she had a few lights on and then led Justin to her secret room where she stashed her art.
As Justin watched her produce a door out of the wall, his brow arched. “A secret door?” he remarked, impressed. “That’s very cool. I always wanted to find a secret door in one of our houses. Never happened.”
“You poor thing,” she murmured with a small smile. She flicked the light and breathed deeply before reaching on her tiptoes for the rolled-up pieces that were her best. Justin was surprised by the sheer number of paintings she had rolled up in the small space and commented on it.
“I think you’ve outgrown this secret spot,” he observed with a wink to keep things light.
He had no idea how true his statement was. She’d begun to realize that she couldn’t hide in a closet her entire life—partly due to the sessions with Dr. Veronica, but also due to Justin and the babies.
She unrolled the painting carefully and attached it to the easel. It was her first painting when the depression had hit. Just looking at it again brought out a feeling of desolation and loneliness but she knew it was simply an echo and not a true reflection of what she was feeling now.
Justin gazed at the piece and his silence frightened her. She was afraid to ask so she also remained silent. When he finally spoke, it wasn’t anything she expected.
“You’re a master.” His simple, yet shocked statement floored her and she didn’t know how to react. She frowned with disappointment, believing he was being effusive in his praise to spare her feelings. She started to reach for the piece to roll it back up again but he stopped her, cupping her face and regarding her with serious awe. “Lilah...I’m not saying this to feed your ego. I came here prepared to love whatever I saw, but I never expected to see such quality.”
“Justin, I know that’s not true even though I love you for trying,” she said, through a wash of tears. “I’ve had masters evaluate my work and they called it, ‘infantile at its worst, moderately adequate at its best.’ I was rejected from the most prestigious art school in Florida and it nearly destroyed me. I vowed never to subject my art to that kind of criticism again. And I haven’t. You’re the first person I’ve let see my art, aside from Carys, but she’s a child.”
“Lilah, I don’t know what your art looked like ten years ago or whenever you submitted your application, but what I’m looking at right now is the work of someone who can not only nail the technical aspects of the medium but has the artistic talent that gives a piece that extra something. Just looking at this...makes me want to cry and
that’s what art is supposed to do right? Evoke an emotion?” At her halting nod, he added without reservation, “I want to buy this. Right now. How much?”
“I—I don’t know,” she stammered. “It’s not for sale. I can’t sell it.”
“Why not?” he asked.
She wondered why she was reluctant to part with it. It felt like selling off a piece of her but artists sell their work, that’s what they did to make a living. How was she ever going to change and grow into the artist she wanted to be if she didn’t start somewhere? She supposed selling a piece to Justin would be a gentle start to that change. But how could she charge the father of her children? “How much do you think it’s worth?” she asked with uncertainty. Maybe a hundred dollars?
“Easily two grand,” he assessed with a critical eye, startling her. At her expression, he misunderstood and amended his offer. “You’re right, that’s lowballing. Would you take three thousand for it?”
“God, Justin, that’s too much,” she gasped. “I can’t let you spend that on my painting. I just can’t.”
“Fine. Then let me take it on consignment. Artists do this all the time. I will pay to have it framed and hung. And then we’ll see how it does on its own. Do you have any others like this?”
“I have a whole series,” she admitted.
“May I see them?”
She nodded and pulled the rolls. They worked together to hang them on the easels. The growing pride in Justin’s expression as he perused each piece caused the air in her lungs to feel constricted. She’d never imagined she could be so dependent on someone else’s opinion after the debacle with the Florida art school but here she was, holding her breath as Justin evaluated her work. Fresh tears sprang to her eyes when he announced without reservation, “I want them all.”
Something to Believe In Page 22
