by Susan Hatler
I hiked upstairs to decorate, put the key in the lock, and was surprised when the door jerked open. I stared at Greg, blinking. “H-Hi.”
“Hi, yourself.” His smile was friendly, as always, but the sparkle in his eyes that used to greet me wasn’t there. I felt its absence like a knife to my chest, but tried to pretend I didn’t.
I double-checked my watch. “I thought you would’ve left for work already.”
He leaned against the doorjamb. “Mary Ann told me she had a hot date tonight. That makes me your only assistant. Where should I start?”
“What are you talking about?” I eased inside, kicked off my shoes, then crossed my arms. “It’s Thursday. You work tonight.”
He shut the door, then turned to face me. “This is your last night to pull everything together for the project. I know how much this means to you, so there’s no way I’d abandon you.”
My dad had missed countless events that were important to me growing up. The emergency room always came first. Every single time. “H-How did you get the night off?”
“I traded shifts with another person.” He shrugged. “Turns out she needed a different night off for her kid’s school play.” His gaze cut through me. “Bottom line, I’m here for you. I told you that before, and I meant it.”
My throat tightened. “This is too much trouble for you to go through for something that is my problem. It feels like I’m taking advantage of your friendship.”
“You’re still not hearing me.” He stepped forward then, and did something he hadn’t done since I’d called things off—he touched me. All he did was brush my shoulder briefly, but the zings that zipped through me were unstoppable. His eyes peered into mine. “You don’t have to do everything alone.”
His words stormed through me, shaking me to my core. He’d knocked down so many of my beliefs. That the stress of an emergency room doctor was too much for a person to handle. That the demanding job would leave no time for family—or a thoroughly confused downstairs neighbor, as the case may be—and that there might be a man in this world who’d be there for me, who’d believe in me. . . .
“Thank you.” I choked on my words. Partly because I was touched, but also because a wave of sadness washed over me. Even though Greg was here for me, he wasn’t mine, and I’d never felt more alone.
****
The condo project was complete except for the unfinished living room painting that sat on my easel, mocking me. I’d picked up my paintbrush hundreds of times, unable to swipe so much as one stroke, because every idea felt wrong. The pressure mounted inside me. If I didn’t finish this painting, I’d have to use the country landscape that hung there now, which was lovely in its own way, but in no way encompassed the personality of my client or a Ginger Nielsen design.
Finally, when my back throbbed from sitting cross-legged at my desk so long staring at my unfinished work, I gave in to my fatigue and eased into my bed. It was the middle of the night but, with Greg home, I didn’t have to worry about The Skipper being alone in his carrier. Instead, all I could think about was his owner.
Greg told me he loved the final rooms of the project, but I knew in my heart something was missing—the living room painting that eluded me. My eyes were heavy, I tossed and turned, but sleep refused to come. Eventually, I climbed out of bed.
Glancing at the clock, I noted the early hour as I stepped into my jogging shorts, then pulled a running shirt over my head. I tied my long hair back into a ponytail, slipped out the front door into the dark morning, and started to run.
My feet pounded the pavement. I’d been unable to lose myself in my runs all week long, so I didn’t even try. As my arms pumped in rhythm with my legs, my breathing followed suit but, even after several miles, no euphoric feelings greeted me.
Tears burned my eyes, but I charged my legs faster, and sprinted longer than ever before. All my mistakes had finally caught up to me, encompassing every cell of my being, until all forms of peace were out of my reach, along with my muse. Maybe I’d screwed up big time. Maybe I was wrong about not wanting kids like Greg suggested. I couldn’t tell what I thought or felt anymore. I just wanted to run, escape, leave everything behind.
Then, suddenly, it happened. Light broke through the darkness, stretching its yellow fingers across the sky, transforming my thoughts instantly. The storm in my head receded and the big ball of radiant yellow calmed me, healed me, and spoke to me—until only one image remained in my mind. Greg. And he smiled at me, his almond-brown eyes sparkling with all of the love and hope of a new day.
Pumping my legs even faster, I turned toward home with an uncontrollable urge to finish that painting on my easel. Because now I knew what those bright splashes across my paper had been trying to tell me, and I was finally ready to listen.
****
When Jenna arrived on Friday afternoon, Greg’s condo was the epitome of perfection. Not perfect in the sense of appealing to the bulk of Sacramento Living’s readership, but perfectly representing a combination of my client and me, which was how I should’ve proceeded all along.
Now, it didn’t matter to me if Jenna liked my creation or if she’d recommend me to her friends. I’d put my soul into this project, and designed something that I loved. Now I believed in my talent, and in myself. Even if I had to hold down another job to pay the bills, I’d build my business one step at a time because this was my dream, and I wouldn’t let anything stand in my way ever again.
Greg leaned against the wall and I stood next to him as Jenna returned from the master bedroom and surveyed the living room. Bright pillows matched the drapes. A lattice pattern rug spread its corners under the coffee table and connected the room with coordinating hues. I’d found a wooden centerpiece that added a touch of the outdoors, and I’d tucked a large ficus tree in the corner by the sliding glass door.
The new sofa and loveseat were inviting. We’d mounted the TV on the corner wall, which made the big black screen still useable but less prominent. And what pulled the entire room together, of course, was the large painting of the sunrise displayed on the main wall.
“Sensational.” Jenna snapped photos successively as she spoke. “Dramatic. Exquisite. I feel like I need a thesaurus,” she laughed.
A deep, calmness swept over me. I immediately glanced up to find almond-brown eyes peering down at me. His gaze felt warm and kind, but they still didn’t sparkle.
When Jenna left, raving about how she was sure my business would be the next big thing in Sacramento, I turned to Greg and knew this was the end. There was no reason for me to return. I didn’t need to come up to decorate. We didn’t need to see each other at all.
“I’d say Jenna is a big fan.” He reached down and swooped up The Skipper, who’d been rubbing against his ankle. Greg’s gaze connected with mine. “How do you feel?”
Without him? Sad. Empty. Lonely. . . .
It took massive effort to form a smile, which I hoped didn’t look as phony as it felt. “I’m excited about the article. It will be fantastic exposure for Founding Friendships, and for my new business. I hope you got your money’s worth from the auction.”
“Beyond.” His gaze darted to the painting, and his eyes darkened. “That painting is priceless. I’m mesmerized by the vivid colors, the brush strokes, everything. It’s you.”
“No, it’s you,” I said, firmly, shaking my head. “No matter what comes, you’re up at dawn, ready to take on the challenge of a new day. You make life better. Me, I run at sunset, holding everything in, just waiting for the day to end.”
His eyes hardened. “Is that how you see yourself?”
A rock formed in my throat, and I lifted my shoulders at the ugly truth. “You’re brave. I’m a coward.”
“You’re wrong.” He growled, his jaw tightening, his eyes spitting fire. “You donated your decorating services to your friend’s auction, even though exposing your art scared you senseless. Your sister’s a grown woman, but you carried the burden of her bills so she didn’t hav
e to worry about it. You chose the career your parents wanted, turning your back on your passion, trying to make them happy.”
As he paused to take a breath, the rock in my throat shifted into a boulder. The heat behind my eyes boiled, threatening to spill over. . . .
“You’re not a coward. Far from it.” He stepped toward me, his features intense, and words final. “You’re the sunshine in everyone’s life, and you can’t even see it. You give to others all day long, holding back what you want until late in the evening when you finally allow yourself an hour to run. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”
I shook my head, hot tears seeping down my cheeks. “I’m not, though.”
“You are.” His eyes steeled, unwavering. “You just don’t realize it yet.”
Every cell in my body wanted to crumple in his arms. I’d fought so hard to keep Greg from seeping into my soul, but somehow he’d snuck inside anyway. A strong woman wouldn’t let this amazing man give up on his dreams of family, though. I couldn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t.
“I have to go.” I swiped at my cheeks and swallowed the lump in my throat. “Thank you again for letting me decorate your place, for helping me, for everything.”
Then I slipped out the door, leaving my heart behind me.
****
“Pass the toilet paper.” Kristen held her hand out, and a big white roll dropped in her palm. She unraveled the end, then wound the tissue trail around my waist and between my legs, diapering me. “Smile like a baby with gas, Ginger. We’re being recorded, and we’re in it to win it.”
Widening my stance as Kristen looped the toilet paper through, I made a face at the video camera Rach held in front of me. “Happy baby shower, Ellen, but I’m not sure this is a moment I want frozen forever. Maybe Rach can go film Gina, since she won that diaper-poo game by guessing all of the correct candy bars.”
Rach’s mouth spread into a grin. “One of the perks of her sweet tooth is winning a coffee shop gift card during a baby shower game.”
“This shower is perfect, Rach. All of this time you worried for nothing.” I dipped my head in Kaitlin’s direction, where she was rapidly diapering Ellen’s grandma-in-law with way too much gusto. Even with age on our side, they were totally going to beat us—especially since Kristen moaned every time she bent over. I pointed toward the elderly lady in the fancy tissue-built diaper. “Now, go record a team who has a chance.”
“But you look totally adorable, baby Ginger.” Rachel giggled, then moved on with her camera. Finally.
“Nobody had better try to burp me after this.” I stared down at the mess Kristen was creating, counting down the seconds until the timer went off. I watched her face go green as she bent over again, and I reached for her arm. “Give it up, sweetie. You look like you’re going to be sick.”
“Don’t say that ‘s’ word again.” Kristen covered her mouth with her hand, then fanned her face. “I’m fine.”
My brows knitted when Kristen sucked in breath, and made a move to continue diapering me. I grabbed her tissue paper-filled hand. “Let it go, girl. It’s just a game, and not worth passing out over when we’re so obviously embracing last place.”
“You’re right.” She tucked the end of the toilet paper into the waistband of my pathetic excuse for a diaper. Kristen would totally need to hire a nanny with her sad skills. Then she closed her eyes, touched her belly, and her face contorted as if a wave of nausea were hitting her. Wait a minute. . . .
Staring at her hand cupping her belly, it suddenly clicked. “Are you pregnant?”
Her eyes popped open, and she thrust her index finger over lips. “Shh,” she managed, then reached for a chair to steady herself. “Four weeks. But I’m not telling everyone until twelve so this is just between us. And Ethan, of course.”
“Oh, wow.” My face broke into a smile, and I clasped my hands together. “Congratulations. That’s so exciting.”
A buzzer went off across the room, then I was called for photos, and five of us diapered beauties said cheese for the photographer Rach had hired.
Rach’s apartment had been transformed into a sea of blue and white balloons, crepe paper, tablecloths—the works. For a woman who’d been stressed the last two weeks, she’d sure pulled off a lovely baby shower.
After another shower game involving blue string and measuring Ellen’s protruding belly, I finally got a moment alone with the mother-to-be. She scooped up a piece of carrot cake with cream cheese frosting, then bit into the blue wheel of a frosting baby carriage.
She pushed out her bottom lip. “I was sorry to hear you got laid off.”
“Yeah, not a moment for the photo album.” I dipped my fork into the moist cake, then popped a chunk in my mouth. “I’m actually starting my own decorating business, though. I got my first client from Jill’s charity auction.”
“Ginger’s decorating taste is top notch.” Kristen plopped down on the couch beside us. “I’m going to hire her to decorate my nursery before the baby comes.” Kristen’s eyes bulged as she seemed to realize what had just slipped out.
Ellen squealed. “You’re pregnant?”
“Shh.” Kristen waved her hand, then made a face like the nausea was hitting her again. “We’re not telling anyone yet. Although, I’m having a problem keeping it a secret today.”
“So exciting.” Ellen’s smile radiated at Kristen, then she turned to me. “I hear Kaitlin set you up with a great guy at Jill’s auction. Maybe you’ll be next.”
All kinds of pain speared through me at her words. My gaze dropped to her belly, and I realized that would never be me. I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Actually, I only had one date with Trenton. Kaitlin thought he’d be right for me, but I just didn’t feel it.”
Ellen rubbed her big baby bump. “Well, you’d know if it felt right. Believe me. The first time I saw Henry I felt like I’d been struck by lightening. It stills feels that way sometimes. Not when he leaves his dirty socks balled up on the floor of the living room, though.”
Kristen laughed. “Ethan’s pristine, thank goodness. All of our dirty clothes go in the hamper.”
I wanted to chime in that Greg decorated the floor of his room with his dirty clothes, discarding them haphazardly, then leaving them there to age. A few times, I’d picked them up and put them in the hamper myself. But I couldn’t tell them that, of course.
“There he goes again.” Ellen rubbed her tummy. “Every time I sit down to relax, it’s somersault time. I might have to enroll this little guy in gymnastics.”
“Oh!” Kristen’s face lit up. “Can I feel?”
Biting my lip, I watched in fascination as Ellen pressed Kristen’s hand against her belly. Kristen was normally so reserved, and it warmed my heart seeing her emotional like this. “So amazing. That little life inside you,” Kristen muttered.
“And you.” Ellen smiled, then turned to me. “You want to feel?”
“Sure.” I hesitated, then let her guide my hand to the left side of her belly, where she held my palm still against her silk blouse. I waited, studying the tiny rose blossoms on her shirt, but nothing happened. It was like he sensed I didn’t want kids and wasn’t going to perform for me. Just when I was about to pull away, a tiny force bopped against my palm. My eyes widened in surprise. Then he bumped again. Overwhelmed, my vision blurred, knowing I’d never feel that inside me. I whipped my hand away. “He’s precious,” I told Ellen, then made an excuse to leave the room.
My eyes burned as I hurried to Rachel’s bedroom, then threw the door shut. I gripped the sides of my head as the door sprang open behind me.
Kristen slipped in. “What’s going on?”
Tears slid down my cheeks. “Did Ellen notice? I don’t want to ruin her shower.”
She shook her head. “No, Rach has her opening gifts now. She’s fine. What’s wrong?”
“I’ve made a huge mistake.” I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes, then dropped back on Rachel’s bed. “I’m in love wi
th my neighbor. But it’s hopeless.”
As soon as I said it, I immediately pictured a life with Greg. The two of us going for a run at sunset before he left for his graveyard shift. Me, in the quiet house at night painting bright colorful works of art for my clients. A girl in the backyard, swinging a hula hoop around her waist. A boy playing hopscotch next to her, his gap-toothed smile wide, his almond-eyes sparkling. I could see laughter, love, and family. Greg had been right, and I’d blown it.
Kristen gave me a strange look. “Why is it hopeless? Is your neighbor married?”
“No.” I scoffed, staring up at the ceiling.
She sat down next to me. “Is he elderly?”
“Of course not,” I sniffed, swiping underneath my eyes with the back of my hand. “He’s sweet and supportive and an amazing kisser.” Don’t ask me why I felt the need to add that last part. “But he wants a big family and I thought I didn’t want kids, but now . . .”
“You realize you were just scared.” Her mouth curved upward. “Since you mentioned the kissing thing, maybe he’s in love with you, too. Why don’t you tell him how you feel?”
I swallowed. “He told me I could only push him away so many times before it would be too late. What if he doesn’t want to be with me anymore?”
Kristen put a hand on my arm. “Only one way to find out.”
****
That night, terrified out of my mind, I climbed upstairs to Greg’s unit. This time I wasn’t going upstairs to decorate. I was going up to date—if he accepted my apology. If not, I was going up to get my heart ripped to shreds. Not a happy proposition.
Holding my breath, I knocked on the door.
I heard rustling inside, then moments later, the door swung open. Greg wore black shorts, a tee shirt, and his brown hair was tousled. His brows shot up as if he were shocked to see me. I wasn’t sure if I should take that as a bad sign, but it sure didn’t seem like a good one.
