One in a Million

by Susan Mallery

  As had become their habit, JT and Drew went up to the roof to work. Even if the kid wasn’t moving away, they wouldn’t be able to continue their lessons in the evenings, not now that daylight saving had kicked in and the sky darkened much earlier with the approaching winter.

  This would probably be the last time Drew came over. It was funny how JT had started this as a way to help the boy—or, more accurately, the boy’s blue-eyed mother—yet he felt as if he’d really gained something indefinable and special. Maybe he’d talk to Sean about trying to set up some part-time teaching gigs, or even once-a-month free classes for kids at their gallery.

  Drew had been nervous when he first arrived tonight, but once he’d asked about his elementary school’s upcoming art week and was reassured JT didn’t mind attending, he’d calmed down and turned his attention to his painting.

  It was JT who was now nervously obsessing over the November appearance and couldn’t focus on his work. Was the school’s art week something that parents attended, too? Would he see Kenzie there? Both she and Drew had mentioned Mick’s attempts to be in Atlanta more, so maybe he’d show up, as well. For the kid’s sake, JT hoped so.

  He hadn’t been able to get Kenzie out of his mind since their interlude in the elevator earlier—or her confession of how much she’d come to care about him. It was the kind of thing he knew he wasn’t brave enough to say, because those admissions led to deeper feelings, the exact opposite of the safe distance he craved. Yet even knowing that separation was safer, he’d had to fight the urge to ask Drew about Kenzie’s week or how she was doing. Or whether she’s mentioned me lately.

  Pathetic. No self-respecting man would use a nine-year-old as an unwitting spy.

  Glancing toward Drew, JT chuckled to himself. Nor should a self-respecting man let a nine-year-old outshine him with a better work ethic. With that thought, he turned to his palette and got down to the business of painting.

  When Drew came over to say it was time for him to go, JT was so engrossed in the burgeoning creation that it took him a minute to realize the boy was speaking to him.

  “That’s cool,” Drew said. “Does it have a title?”

  “Not yet.” JT stepped aside so that his protégé could take a better look.

  “I think it looks like people.” He studied the different colored blobs on the canvas. “These smaller ones could be kids, the bigger ones the adults. Like a family. Maybe that’s what you should call it—‘Picture of a Family.’”

  JT raised his eyebrows; there were a lot of blobs. “That’s a pretty big family.”

  “Like Mrs. Sanchez’s. She has a lot of relatives. I think she’s the red blob.” Drew pointed toward a blurred sphere near the upper corner of the canvas. “I’m gonna miss her when we move.”

  “You’ll make new friends. After all, you and Leslie didn’t want to move from Raindrop, either, and you made new friends here.”

  “I guess.” The boy looked unconvinced, but nodded anyway. “Do you want to go downstairs so I can clean my brushes, or should I just leave the stuff up here?”

  “I’ll clean up for both of us,” JT promised. “You run along so we don’t get in trouble with your mom.”

  Drew looked unperturbed by this possibility. “I don’t think she’d ever be mad at you. She likes you too much.”

  JT laughed. “Your logic’s flawed, son. After all, she loves you—does that stop her from getting mad?”

  At that, Drew scooted promptly toward the door, calling a quick good-night over his shoulder.

  After the boy was gone, JT continued painting until the evening grew chilly and his fingers uncomfortable. Then he took everything back to his apartment and kept on painting, ignoring the passing hours. Finally he stopped to look at what had taken shape on the canvas. A family, Drew had said. JT had grown up feeling disconnected from his own, then had violently lost the one he and Holly had formed. It was something that, deep down, he could admit he desperately wanted…but was afraid to reach for.

  He looked again at the picture, a miasma of colors dominated by a rough rectangle. On top of and surrounding the rectangle were blobs of different sizes and shapes. His mouth twitched as he found himself thinking of the red splotch as Roberta—red was a good shade for her passionate temperament and spicy dishes. Maybe the white, skinny oval toward the bottom could represent grizzled Mr. C. And the bright yellow in the middle of the canvas, the unintentional sun the other shapes revolved around? Definitely Kenzie. He’d winced when she moved in, afraid she would disrupt his existence. God, he was glad she had. She’d brought with her such a brightness that…

  I have a family.

  The thought came out of nowhere as he glanced back to the canvas. Sean was like a brother to him, Roberta Sanchez an opinionated but favorite aunt. The people in this building had slowly taken up space in his hollow heart, none more so than the beautiful woman across the hall and her two children. What she’d said earlier today was true—he did love Mrs. Sanchez. And he would be devastated should anything bad ever happen to Sean, yet that didn’t stop JT from treasuring the man’s friendship or going into business with him. Wasn’t it just as possible to lose one of those people as someone he loved romantically?

  It’s not the same. A dull phantom pain ached in his chest. If Sean got hit on the head with an asteroid tomorrow, it would suck, but it would be different than the I’ve-just-been-torn-in-half mindless sorrow of losing Holly. Just as the risks of romantic love were greater, though, weren’t the rewards, as well?

  Did he want to be a colorless, solitary blob on his own dark canvas, or did he want to be part of a family, a returning member of the world that he painted but too seldom participated in? He didn’t even have to think about the answer.

  Instinct and raw emotion, the kind he’d been trying so hard not to feel, propelled him out of his apartment and straight to Kenzie’s door.

  Even though it hadn’t jostled her from sleep—she was too restless for that—a knock on the door at one in the morning was startling. Was there some kind of emergency in the building? Was her ex in town, looking for a place to crash after an event at a nightclub? The very last person she expected to find was wild-eyed JT, his hair standing on end, brightly colored smudges on his sleeveless white undershirt and jeans.

  “JT? What’s wrong?” She stepped out into the hall, pulling the door partially closed behind her so they didn’t wake the kids.

  “No, it’s what’s right.” His expression was one of almost manic joy. She was still trying to decipher it when he grabbed her and kissed her passionately.

  Momentary shock turned to a flame of bright arousal, her body much faster to respond than her confused mind. Heat pulsed within her, and she opened her mouth, seeking closer contact. But the insistent part of her asking what the hell? finally made itself heard long enough for her to pull away.

  “JT, I don’t understand. What—”

  “I love you. Mrs. Sanchez was right. I should declare my love and try to keep you from leaving Peachy Acres. Or at least from leaving me. Don’t leave me, Kenzie. I need you. You’ve changed my life. I still don’t know if I could handle having a woman being pregnant with my baby, but my time with Drew… I always wondered if I would be a good dad and now, I think, yes. Even though my chance was taken away from me, even though my own role model wasn’t— I could be a father. And I can paint again! Come see what I’ve just finished. Maybe I could explain it better that way than in words, but—”

  “Stop!” Her head was reeling. She felt dizzy and was frantic to get off this unexpected roller coaster. She couldn’t keep up with the information he was throwing at her. “I need a minute.”

  “I love you.” He repeated it almost more to himself than to her, and her heart leaped with joy at the statement.

  He loves me. Her toes curled inside her fuzzy pink socks. No. S
he tamped down her budding euphoria. At least one of them had to stay grounded in reality—a role with which she was too familiar.

  “JT, this is insane.”

  He offered her a lopsided smile. “Artists usually are crazy.”

  Tell me something I don’t know. Though he was joking, he wasn’t helping his own case. “Look, you know how much I care about you, but I’m not a teenager anymore. I can’t allow myself to be blindly swept off my feet. I have two kids to think of.”

  “I know, and they’re wonderful kids. Like I was just telling you—”

  “It’s one in the morning! You’re jubilant because you’ve just finished what I’m sure is a brilliant painting. You’re coasting on artist endorphins or adrenaline or whatever, but that’s no reason for deciding you want to be a father figure. Especially not to two children who already have one wacky dad in their lives.”

  JT stiffened. Her rejection was starting to sink in. “I’m not ‘wacky.’ It’s not fair for you to automatically paint me with the same brush as Mick, if you’ll pardon the expression.”

  Part of her wanted to agree with him, assure him that she thought he’d be a much better and selfless father. The rest of her was fleeing in blind panic and wasn’t willing to stop to entertain the possibilities.

  “I’ve already been one man’s muse,” she heard herself say, not liking the note of hysteria that was creeping into her tone. “You’re crediting me with you being able to paint again. I don’t want that responsibility. What happens if you get stuck, or a critic hates your latest piece? Are you going to blame me for that, maybe without even meaning to? Are you going to growl that the kids are a distraction, that none of us understand…? It’s one in the morning, JT.”

  “I’m aware of the time.” He sounded angry, but there was sheepish acknowledgment in his gaze that perhaps he’d acted too impetuously. “Could I come back tomorrow, at a more civilized hour, so that we could discuss this?”

  She gripped the doorknob behind her, retreating. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You yourself told me not long ago that you didn’t want to fall in love.”

  “That’s when I was arrogant enough to think I could control it, but you—”

  “No, I didn’t do anything. Not intentionally. We were both honest about not wanting anything long-term. I…I can’t.”

  Rocking back on his heels, he assessed her. “You’re as scared as I was. I thought you were more courageous.”

  “I never claimed to be.”

  “It’s all right.” His voice had gentled. “We can work through our fears together. We can—”

  “There is no we!” She opened her door and turned to escape. “Goodbye, JT.”

  She didn’t slam the door in his face, but it somehow felt like she did. Inside, she leaned against the frame, letting the tears come. I’m doing the right thing. He was clearly not in a rational mood, and she was making the adult choice for both of them. Just as she’d done repeatedly in her marriage. She was not going down that road again.

  No matter how tempted she’d been to tell him she loved him, too.

  She was gaining a house but losing a dress size, Kenzie thought in the ladies’ lounge of the lawyer’s office. Lack of appetite the past few days meant that the once sharp business suit she’d chosen to wear to the house closing was hanging limply on her frame. It wasn’t a good look. Still, she was about to walk into that oval conference room and sign away her life savings, so new wardrobe additions were out of the question.

  After applying more lipstick, she slid the tube in her purse and checked to make sure she’d remembered all the necessary items for today—checkbook, driver’s license, social-security card. She had just finished her inventory and stepped into the lushly carpeted corridor when her cell phone buzzed. Probably Ann calling to wish her luck. Or Mick rescheduling again. He’d been due to arrive last night, but had to postpone. At least he’d bothered to let her know, something he hadn’t always done in the past.

  “Hello?”

  “Mrs. Green? This is Ms. Taylor, the school nurse. We need you to come pick up Andrew. I’m afraid he’s just thrown up. There is a nasty stomach bug going around.”

  Oh, the poor baby. “Is he all right? Do you think I should get him to the pediatrician?”

  “He’s resting comfortably, no fever. I wouldn’t be too alarmed, ma’am, but he definitely can’t stay here with the other students.”

  “Of course not.” She peered through the glass at the real estate agents and attorneys already seated at the mahogany table. “I’m not in an area of town where I can reach him anytime soon. And I’m supposed to be… Can I have someone else pick him up?”

  “You’ll have to call us personally with the name of the individual and they’ll need to show photo ID in the office.”

  “I’ll get right back to you.” She disconnected, holding up an index finger at her frowning Realtor. Damn. If Mick had been able to make it, that would be a quick solution. Ann lived too far away; by the time she got Abigail all ready and into her car seat… Mrs. Sanchez was a likely possibility, if she were home this afternoon, but Kenzie didn’t have the woman’s number with her and would need to call information.

  Or.

  Peeking into her purse, she fished out the business card JT had handed her. If you ever need anything, he’d said. But what kind of woman coldly refused a man’s love, then phoned him for a favor? A mom whose pride isn’t as important as her kid.

  She punched in his number, holding her breath until he answered, and cut him off in mid-hello. “It’s Kenzie. I need to ask—”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be closing on a new house?”

  “Exactly. But Drew’s school just called. He threw up. Even if I walk out on the closing—”

  “I can get him. Just give me directions.”

  Five minutes later, she’d authorized the plan for the school and was able to go into the conference room. But her mind wouldn’t focus on all the contract clauses the attorney was trying to explain. I can get him. That had been JT’s immediate reaction to her needing help. There’d been no hesitation, no snarky response.

  He’d caught her so off guard the other night, when he’d rushed over to share his 1:00 a.m. epiphany, that she’d been startled and disoriented. If she hadn’t been panicking, would she ever have compared him to her first husband? She cringed, recalling that she’d implied he was wacky. JT had disrupted his own comfortable solitude to be there for her and her kids. Even a nine-year-old could see that. What was it Drew had said, confident his newfound hero would want to help with art week? JT’s the type of guy you can count on.

  He sure as hell was.

  “Mrs. Green?” The lawyer smiled at her, but sounded vaguely impatient. “Are you with us?”

  “No. I mean, I am, but I shouldn’t be. I’m sorry, a few moments ago I received a call about my son, and I…I need to be somewhere else.” She stood as her agent turned to the sellers and tried to do damage control, mentioning a family emergency and rescheduling. Kenzie could barely hear the words over the buzzing in her head of thousands of lightbulbs coming on at once.

  She loved JT.

  She loved his artistic side, loved his big heart, evidenced by how much he’d adored his first wife and by how he’d let Kenzie and her kids into his life. And she loved how steady he was. He was not Mick. Maybe her first husband was going to follow through on his attempts to become a better father, maybe that would be a short-lived fiasco. Either way, she and the kids would be all right, and she had no business punishing JT for another man’s failures.

  The length of the red lights seemed to grow in direct contrast to her need to reach home. Home. That truly was what she considered Peachy Acres these days, although she imagined she could feel that way about any place where her children were and where JT was n
earby.

  When she reached the apartment building, she parked the car and raced to the stairwell. She wasn’t taking her chances with the elevator. By the time she banged on JT’s door, she was breathless.

  He frowned down at her. “Kenzie? I thought you were—”

  She grabbed him by the front of his shirt and simultaneously launched herself upward in a kiss that said all the things it would take too long to vocalize. For a shining second, she understood what he’d said about thinking in colors. Starbursts of light and joy exploded behind her eyes, her longing for this man obliterating anything as mundane as words. To her delight and relief, JT did not hesitate or push her away. He cradled her to him, meeting her kiss with fervent, openmouthed abandon.

  “Mom!”

  Oh, dear heaven. How had she forgotten about Drew? She angled her head away from JT—not willing to let go of him, though—and saw her curious son sprawled on JT’s couch beneath a quilt.

  “Um…hey, honey, feeling better?” She was officially the worst mother in the world, but her son wasn’t glaring.

  “Well, I’ve managed not to yarf in JT’s apartment,” he said.

  She could feel JT’s silent laughter beneath her fingers. “That’s much appreciated,” he said.

  Drew narrowed his eyes. “I know what you said before, Mom, but does this mean you two will be dating, after all?”

  She bit her lip. “How would you feel about that, kiddo?”

  Her son’s face took on an exhilarated expression and he pumped his fist in the air. “Cool! Leslie is gonna be so mad that I found out first.”

  Kenzie took JT’s hand and led him a few feet away, toward the kitchen, where she could speak quietly and not with an audience. “I am sorry about the other night.”

  “Don’t be,” he told her with a tender smile. “Some of what you said was true. It was unthinking of me to bang on your door at one in the morning. On a school night, no less. What was I expecting you to do, sweep me inside and let me make love to you with impressionable children down the hall? I was a bit out of line.”