Work of Art ~ Book 3 The Masterpiece

by Ruth Clampett

  Jess looks alarmed. “No, you better get through this stuff before you leave.”

  “Maybe we’re overstating this,” Riley says. “He didn’t even want to see her. Maybe one conversation between them will be all it takes.”

  Jess and I look doubtful, but I hold onto that thought, because it’s the least upsetting one I have.

  Sitting on our couch in our partially packed living room, I finally ask Jess about her conversation with Chloe before we left the bookstore.

  “What reason did she give for moving to L.A.?” I twist my bottle of water back and forth in my hands.

  “Something snapped, and she decided she’d had enough of marriage, raising a kid, Florida—you name it. Her husband is a drunk and hardly paints, and the money dried up. I think she realized she’d hitched her wagon to the wrong horse.”

  I make a disgusted face. “Great.”

  Jess folds her arms over her chest. “Exactly. So she decided to get back in the art game. Somehow, she scored a job with the Granville Gallery in Beverly Hills, so she came out here to work. Her kid is with her in-laws. She was vague about how that would play out.”

  “So, something snapped. Just like that,” I whisper.

  “Just like that.”

  Max has talked about the Granville Gallery. He really wants them to carry his work, but he hasn’t convinced the owner yet. Could she know this? Is this part of her plan? My paranoia runs wild.

  “So, she left her kid behind, and the first person she looks up is Max, who she abandoned ten years ago? Sounds like a real winner,” Riley says angrily.

  Riley’s cell phone rings, and she takes the call.

  “Hi, Sweetheart,” Riley says, the anger disappearing from her voice.

  I’m relieved to realize it’s Dylan with an update.

  “Good, we were pretty freaked out, so I’m glad to hear it.”

  She smiles and nods.

  Well, at least it isn’t bad news, I surmise.

  “Okay, she’s right here.” She hands me the phone. “Max wants to talk to you.”

  My hand shakes as I take the phone. “Max?”

  He lets out a long sigh. “Ava, I’m really sorry I lost it like that.” He sounds worn out and remorseful.

  “You sure scared me. I’m kind of a wreck here.”

  “Look, can you come get me? I need to see you, and we need to talk.”

  “Talk? Are you going to break up with me or something?” Both Riley and Jess turn to me, startled.

  “Hell no! What are you thinking? Shit! See what she’s done? Now you think I’m breaking up with you.” His temper fires up again.

  “I didn’t mean it. I’m just upset. Look, I’m on my way. Just wait for me, okay?”

  “Okay, but hurry.”

  I get to Dylan’s condo complex, and when I ring the bell, Max quickly answers. As relieved as I am to see him, I’m taken aback by the purple rings around his eyes and his drawn expression.

  “Angel.” He reaches out and pulls me into his arms to hug me tightly.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Well, I’m better now that you’re here. I’m sorry about what I said. I was just so pissed off and wasn’t thinking.”

  “Yeah, it freaked me out.”

  I study his face to get a read of his state of mind. It can’t be good that he can be this unhinged from the girl merely saying hello. What will happen if she really challenges him?

  His phone rings. He tenses and turns it off without answering it.

  “Is that her?” I ask, trying to control the panic in my voice.

  “Yes, and I’d love to know what fucking idiot gave her my number. I made the mistake of answering the first time, because I thought I recognized the number. As soon as I realized it was her, I told her I had nothing to say, and I hung up. But she just keeps fucking calling. Now that you’re here, I can turn my phone off. I just didn’t want to miss you if you tried to call.”

  He slides his long fingers across the screen, and it goes dark.

  Okay, so she’s determined. I think to myself. I’m getting a better idea of what we’re dealing with.

  “So, was that really the first time you’d heard from her? You really had no idea she’d moved to L.A.?”

  “No idea,” he states firmly.

  “Well, that was quite a surprise then.”

  He arches a brow and shakes his head. “And you know how I feel about surprises.”

  “Yes, I do. What exactly do you think she expects or wants?”

  “I think she’d like me to fall to my knees and beg her to come back. It’s like a sport with her. And the worst part is, once she gets an idea in her head, she’s unrelenting. I’ve seen her do anything to get her way.”

  I’m silent for a moment, laboring over what to say next. I can’t help myself. “Chloe said you didn’t know it yet, but her finding you again was going to end up being a happy surprise.”

  His expression hardens. “She said that to you because she’s masterful at the mind fuck. She wants to erode our relationship, the trust we have in each other. And we can’t let her do that, Ava.”

  “No. I’m not going to let her fuck with either of us,” I say resolutely.

  “That’s my girl.” He looks around Dylan’s condo. “Let’s get out of here. Dylan means well, but he’s making me nuts.”

  The drive to Malibu is quiet, while my mind paints pictures I hope will never see the light of day. I can only imagine what’s swirling around in Max’s head. His expression is tight as he steers with his left hand. He holds my hand, and I’m grateful for this simple gesture of reassurance. With all the shit that’s been thrown at us, I’ve never needed to feel the connection that flows between us more.

  “Let’s change and go for a walk,” he says, after we walk through the front door. I follow him upstairs with my overnight bag, and as I start to unbutton my blouse, I watch him disrobe. Knowing that Chloe is near makes me observe him with fresh eyes. I imagine she’s impressed with how Max has aged and filled out. I’ve seen pictures of him from college, and although he was always handsome, he’s breathtaking now. As he puts on a T-shirt, his muscles ripple, and I admire his body unabashedly. He’s everything I could ever want.

  He’s mine, I chant inwardly. I don’t care what claim she thinks she has as his first love. He is mine.

  As I slide on my flip-flops, he takes my hand. We wind down the stairs, and at the bottom, he stops and takes something out of the hall closet.

  “That’s some kite,” I say with a smile, as we close the gate and step down on the sand.

  “You like it? I was feeling inspired one day and painted it.”

  “Yeah, I like it a lot. But it should be in a museum, not dragged along the sand.”

  “Are you teasing me?”

  “Did you see that exhibit of paintings on surfboards at MOCA?”

  “Yeah, yeah…but sometimes art should just be fun.”

  “Fun sounds good right about now,” I say quietly.

  The late afternoon sun shimmers across the water and warms us as we walk along the shore. When we find a wide open area of sand, he hands me the spool of line and reminds me to hold on tightly. He holds the kite and walks backward, while still facing me. The line gets longer as we move further and further apart until it’s enough for the kite to fly.

  “Shouldn’t you run?” I yell, remembering the effort we made as kids trying to get a kite in the air at the park near my house.

  “No need. Watch!” And after he takes several more steps, a big gust of wind hits us. Max raises the kite up, and it lifts into the air, despite a couple of zigzags. As I let the spool unfurl, it soars upward until it’s high above us.

  Wow, just like that.

  He jogs back to me, grinning. “Hold on; don’t let go.”

  “I got it, I got it!”

  Another gust hits us and the kite pulls hard, as if it’s anxious to join the flock of seagulls flying by.

  I tighten my grip. “Oh,
no you don’t! You’re staying with me.”

  Max laughs. He stands behind me, wraps his arms around my waist and maneuvers my hands to make the kite dance. I feel his warm lips on my neck and my knees grow weak, but I never lose focus on keeping the kite in the air.

  Eventually, he gives me a break and takes the spool as we sink down to the sand and lie back to watch the delicate structure of nylon, rods and fine line dance back and forth with the sea wind.

  I watch his focused expression as the sun falls over him. He knits his brow and purses his lips as he tightens the spool.

  “Can I ask you something, Max?”

  He glances at me and nods. “Sure. What is it?”

  “Aren’t you going to talk to her?”

  “No.”

  “Aren’t you curious what she has to say?”

  “Look, Ava, there’s nothing she could say that would change anything. I knew it from the moment I saw her again. All of the ways she toyed with me and messed with my head when we were involved came back like it was yesterday.

  “I was here waiting for years, and I got nothing from her, and it tore me apart. Now, I’m finally getting myself together. I’ve found real happiness with you. I realize it wasn’t her I’d been waiting for, but the idea of being in love—the idea of letting someone into your heart and trusting they will still love you even after they look around.”

  “After they look around?”

  “Yeah, at the mess and all the dark stuff inside your head. But with me—hey, have you ever seen those shows about people who hoard crap in their homes?”

  “You mean those whack jobs that have piles of stuff everywhere so they can’t sit on the furniture or even get through the rooms?”

  “Exactly. That is how my head and my heart felt—so damn crammed full of garbage and crazy ideas that I couldn’t even see straight. Then I met you, Ava, and you started clearing paths through all the crap. Like one of those people on the show that comes in and calmly helps clean out everything that isn’t needed. And because of you, more stuff gets cleared out all the time.”

  “Can you sit on the couch yet?” I tease.

  “Work with me, this is a metaphor.”

  “Okay, soooo we’re clearing the crap.”

  “And I’m stronger for it. And that’s one of the reasons I love you.”

  “I’m your crap clearer. Max, you always say the most romantic things.”

  “But here’s the point, smarty. Why in the world would I open the door and let Chloe drag her old messed up crap back in my world?”

  “Well, you have a point there, and your visual is really driving it home. You’re right—just keep that door closed, boyfriend, and you and I can make out on that couch we’ve cleared off.”

  He grins and narrows his eyes provocatively before he winds the line around the spool and brings the kite lower.

  “So, since you brought up making out, how about some hot tub fun?”

  I stand and brush the sand off my shorts. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  “But first, you need to grab it.”

  “Out here on the beach in front of everyone?”

  “No, the kite, sexy. I’m reeling it in—when it gets low, grab it.”

  I blush, but no grabbing is necessary. The thing sails out of the sky and lands gently in my arms.

  “Perfect,” he sighs.

  We turn and head back to the house with the sun on our backs and the wind pushing us forward. His fingers lace through mine, and for that moment, I have a brilliant few seconds where I actually believe everything’s going to be all right.

  Later, as more elaborate plans are abandoned, our evening consists of takeout and a forgettable movie. Exhaustion hits us both, and we fall into bed around eleven. Sleep takes me quickly, but at some point in the night, I stir and realize something’s off. I reach for Max, and instead of warm skin, my hand passes across his pillow, cold in his absence. I open my eyes.

  “Max?” I whisper.

  As my eyes adjust, I see him on the balcony facing the ocean, and I watch him. Every once in a while, he paces across the wood planks, runs his hands through his hair, turns back toward the water, and grabs the rail. He looks like an animal trying to figure out how to break out of his cage. With each pace across the balcony, he looks more tense.

  I can’t watch him any longer. I rise, wrap the throw from the foot of the bed around my naked body, and step outside.

  “Max?”

  He looks at me with a forlorn expression. “I woke you.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing…everything.” His expression is haunted.

  Where’s my beautiful man who believes our love is bigger than any tornado swirling around us?

  I step closer and run my hand across his shoulder. It’s all there, right under my fingertips—my impending departure, Chloe’s reappearance, and the deafening echo of his abandoned heart—woven into a heavy weight pulling him down.

  I understand his agony. I’m an ordinary girl whose parents left my life and never came back. Those scars are inside me like the rings inside a tree that mark the years.

  All Max sees is my leaving to chase a once-in-a-lifetime dream. But through this experience, I’m determined to make us stronger and break the cycle of abandonment that has damaged us. He doesn’t fully believe yet that my love and devotion will bring me back to him, but I know without a doubt it will.

  “You’re so wound up. Your head’s filled with dark thoughts again, isn’t it?” I ask gently.

  “Yes,” he admits.

  “Oh, Max. Why don’t you let me help you? Come lie down and I’ll rub your back.”

  His head drops, but he nods.

  As we step inside, I pull the covers all the way back, and after pulling off his PJ bottoms, he lies on the bed on his stomach. I sit on the edge of the bed and rub his shoulders. They’re so tight, I have to work hard.

  “You need to let go of whatever you’re worried about. Take a deep breath.”

  As his back rises and falls with each breath, I gently rake my fingers through his hair and make soft circles down his sculpted back, over his hips, and down his thighs. He sighs contentedly, so I do it several more times before working on his shoulders again. He turns and looks at me. “You can’t be comfortable working on me from that angle. Why don’t you get up on the bed?”

  I climb up and straddle him. The throw I’d wrapped around me gets in the way and I peel it off as I settle over him. I work my hands slowly up his back, pressing gently along either side of his spine.

  “I’m sorry for all you’ve had to deal with these past few weeks, Max. It’s understandable that you’re freaking out. It’s a lot for anyone to deal with.”

  “I’m trying, baby, I’m trying,” he murmurs.

  “Well, let me help you.” I lean forward and gently kiss the base of his neck. My breasts skim his back. “I love you so much, and I want to help you however I can.”

  “Oh, Ava.” He shuts his eyes tightly and sighs. I can’t tell if this makes him feel better or worse, until I notice the pain etched across his face. So I rub his shoulders again and get lost in the warmth of his skin and the powerful strength of his muscles, despite his very tender heart just below.

  He groans.

  “Good?” I ask.

  “So good. Don’t stop.”

  I shift and lean into him, my thighs moving over his hips. I can’t help myself from being distracted when I’m this close to him.

  He shifts his hips and sighs. He’s on to me. In a slow movement, he turns, easing over carefully so I don’t fall off. When he’s on his back, he pulls me into his arms and skims his lips up my neck.

  “I’m not done,” I insist.

  “No, you’re not,” he says. “But now we’re changing course.”

  His lips find mine, and every part of him is pressed against me. I sense the quiet fire about to engulf us.

  “What. You didn’t know what you were doing to me?” he asks
in a low voice as he presses the evidence of his desire against me.

  I touch him with heated intentions. “I was trying to calm your mind, not get you worked up.” I’m secretly pleased he wants me even in his dark moments. It’s a darkness that makes me want to shine around every one of his corners. I want to give him light.

  “This does calm my mind. I need this, really need this.” We fall into each other in the tug and pull of love before surrendering to our hunger completely.

  I burn as his lips move over me.

  “I fucking love you,” he whispers against my feverish skin.

  I wonder for a moment if he doesn’t understand the depth of my love, that in my darkest moments I’ve prayed for guidance so we can fulfill our destiny to be together.

  “I love you more,” I say, as I spread my legs and beckon him closer.

  His agony lifts and he gives me a wicked smile.

  He pushes into me, and I arch my back and sink my nails into bare skin.

  “Damn, Ava!” He pulls almost all the way out, and then pushes back in again.

  I lose myself as each thrust comes harder and faster. I wrap my legs around him and hold on for dear life. I need it hard, as if his force will knock the fear right out of me.

  In between thrusts, he twists my nipples, and rakes his teeth along my neck. “You are more, Ava,” he growls.

  “Yes,” I chant as I tug his hair so his head arches back and our wild eyes meet.

  He responds passionately, sweeping me into his arms before he pushes me back into the mattress with his powerful hips. His expression is fiery, and the hard raw fierceness of us is just what he needs right now too.

  When I feel the rumbling deep inside, I let it roll. I thrash and moan and beg him to never let me go. He watches me with wonder and the deepest satisfaction reflected in his eyes. I hope he understands that for me, it’s him. It will always be him.

  Right before his final thrust, he pauses and presses his lips to my ear. “You’re all I want, Ava, you’re everything.”

  And that is all I need.

  Chapter Fourteen / Captain Fantastic

  What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others.