Color My World

by Laura Westbrook

  She stared down into her lap, and strands of her long hair fell down over her face. She gently tugged them back behind her ear as she met his eyes again. Now it was his turn to decide what he was going to do…and she had to be willing to face that.

  He leaned back on his hands, just looking at her. “So…was any of it true?”

  “The paintings are mine. The work is mine. And the dates…the kiss…that was real. But everything about my past that sounded successful and capable was a lie. I’m nothing but a starving artist.”

  “So did you just go out with me for the dinners, then? Or did you just go along with that because you didn’t want to upset a client?”

  “No! It wasn’t like that at all. I offered to pay for things, remember? Some things. What I could, least. Which I know wasn’t much.” Tears stung her eyes, and her mind seemed as thick as jelly. She couldn’t think how to make this moment right, how to make things better, and she was afraid that it was all going to fall apart completely. She’d hit the bottom of the ride at the fair, only later than she thought.

  “So many people tell me I’m crazy for pursuing my dream like this, for living on the edge with no savings and no money and disaster waiting around the corner if my doodling doesn’t work out.”

  For a moment, he sat there quietly, saying nothing and looking at his hands. Then he said, “I would never have told you that, Cassie. You saw from the beginning that art meant a lot to me. Or I thought you did. Now, I’m not so sure.”

  She couldn’t believe he was saying this to her. She wanted to run back to her studio and hide there, ants and all, but she knew she’d never forgive herself if she didn’t sit there and listen, no matter how hard it was.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, taking a deep breath to steady herself. “And if you don’t believe me…I understand. The painting will be finished soon, and…you don’t have to see me after that if you don’t want to.”

  He looked up. “Is that what you think I want?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m upset that you lied to me, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have anything. Do you really think I’m that impulsive?” His gaze was sharp again, and she felt like it was cutting through any hopes they had. “Don’t you know me at all?”

  “I feel like I do, but we haven’t exactly been in this situation before.”

  “And I hope never to be again. I don’t like questioning what I know about you.”

  “You’re right, and it won’t. I promise.”

  “So, what’s the real situation then?”

  “The real situation,” she breathed. “That’s a long story.”

  He patted the seat next to him, and she realized she’d pulled back. She scooted back into place. “The real situation is that I’m in a tough spot. You mentioned being impulsive, but I take the cake on that. I moved hours away from my home to a new town, quitting my job, only to dive into a career that most people would consider a hobby without thinking first. Now I’m struggling, trying to pay a full time living with part time income.”

  “I see. How bad is it?”

  “I mean, I’m starting to see some glimmer of hope. I’ve had some customers, after you, that is, but I’m still pretty far from where I need to be. If I knew all this, I would’ve waited a few more years, or maybe not done it at all.”

  “Don’t say that. You’ve got a lot of talent. I wasn’t just flirting with you when I said that.”

  “But you were flirting.”

  He chuckled. “Yes, I was. And I don’t regret a moment of it.”

  “Are you going to stay?”

  She looked up into his deep brown eyes and sensed something…extra in his tone. She hadn’t really considered quitting, not really anyway, but the way he asked made it seem like he was afraid of losing her. Is that how he sounded, or is that wishful thinking?

  She nodded. “Yes. I’m committed to this. I left a good job for it. Everything I knew. I can’t just quit now. They’ll have to toss all my stuff out on the street and bolt the door before I leave.”

  He glanced at his watch. “Hopefully they’re not doing that right now.”

  “Oh, no. I have at least a few more days before that.” She laughed to show it was a joke when he didn’t seem sure how to take it. “Just kidding. I have longer than that. A little longer.”

  He reached over and placed his hand over hers. “I want you to know I support you. If there’s anyone I think can do it, it’s you.”

  “Thank you, but you’ve already helped so much. You were my first customer, after all, and now my art is cluttering up your home.”

  “Are you kidding? I’ve already gotten compliments on them. Some of your newer customers might have been referrals. I’ve been saying your name left and right.”

  “That’s sweet. Thank you. It’s a tough spot, but I’m sure it’ll work out.”

  He leaned back in the chair and gazed out over the river. “I appreciate you being honest with me. I hope you know I’m always here to listen when you need it.”

  “I do.”

  She leaned against his shoulder as she inhaled his cologne. She wanted to savor this moment before heading back into the real world. It looked like she had one situation fixed, but it didn’t solve everything.

  Chapter Nine

  Cassie stared at her phone. Nothing. She hadn’t heard from Hank since their date by the river, where she’d told him everything. No texts, no emails, and no invitations out. It was startling that he’d gone so quiet so quickly, though she knew she should’ve expected that. It was the one thing she was afraid of, spilling her guts only to be abandoned or rejected. It felt familiar, if not this exact situation. She resisted the urge to compare, which would only spiral her down further.

  He could still be processing things, and a few days wasn’t that long, not compared to the months of stress she’d had since moving there. Still, she just couldn’t shake the nerves that crawled beneath her skin. Maybe she’d shared too much. Small doses might have been better.

  She swallowed hard, trying to ignore the thudding ache in her chest. It was pointless to worry. Maybe he was just focusing on his work after all the time they’d been spending together. It might have nothing to do with her at all.

  She tried not to think about it, tried to put it out of her mind and focus on finishing his painting instead. In all honesty, it was probably already finished, as far as the actual painting process was concerned. She just had to wrap it up neatly, now that it was dry, and make sure it wouldn’t be damaged in transport. And then text him. Or call him?

  In the end, she decided a simple, non-threatening text would be best. So she typed up a professional message and sent it. An hour went by with no response. She was just putting her phone down again when she heard a sharp noise. A phone call.

  She grabbed her phone, too quickly to see who was calling. She just answered, assuming, hoping. “Hello?”

  “Hi.” Hank’s voice was calm and soft, as always, though he sounded a little tired. But not mad, not frustrated, so that was progress. “How are you?”

  “I’m okay, thanks.” She was about to ask how he was doing—how he really was—but he spoke before she found the words.

  “Good. Sorry I’ve been quiet. Things have been a little busy. And I had a lot to think about.” He paused. “Are you free?”

  “When? Right now?”

  “If you can. If you’re working—”

  “No, I worked earlier.” She reminded herself that he now knew about her day job. “I got done with an early shift at the store. Is something wrong?” He’s not trying to break up with me in person, is he? She wasn’t getting that vibe, but it was classic Cassie for her thoughts to leap to the worst possible situation.

  “No, it’s not that. I was just wondering if you could meet me.”

  “Oh. Sure. Where?”

  He rattled off an address. She was still learning the area, but that didn’t sound like anything i
n the commercial district.

  “One more thing,” he said, “is the painting finished?”

  Maybe he was asking her to his house…to deliver the painting and nothing more. “Yeah, it’s finished. I was about to let you know. Do you want me to bring it?”

  “Please.”

  Her stomach dropped. That was pretty much it, then. That was that. “I’m not sure how long it’ll take me to get there, but—”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll wait for you.”

  She wished she could apply that to something else, but she knew it was just about the appointment. “Okay. I’ll try to be there in around twenty minutes?”

  “See you soon.”

  The phone went dead, and she stared at her hand as she pressed the red button. She looked up the address online, and as expected, it was in a neighborhood. It looked a little small from the satellite images to be his house, but maybe he wasn’t quite as well off as she’d thought. Maybe he lived in a modest house so he could afford all the art he wanted.

  It all was confusing, but this was still the same Hank. Maybe she needed to give him a little more credit.

  She packed the painting and got into the car. She didn’t try to fix her hair or fuss with her clothes this time. There wasn’t much point. If he was going to reject her, he might as well do it as she really was, without her trying to get all dressed up and persuade him into keeping her around longer. If it was going to end, it was going to end.

  It took less time than she expected to find the street. The neighborhood was pretty, with lots of little houses on good-sized lots, allowing for gardens bursting with flowers and trees. It definitely wasn’t one of the newer neighborhoods, made to maximize square footage and put as many houses on a piece of land as possible. Pulling up to the specific address, she parked the car. She couldn’t see Hank anywhere, but a car was in the narrow driveway, next to the small side porch and in front of a garden shed. That had to be him.

  She got the painting out of the back, then started up the driveway to the house. The front door opened, and Hank walked out. Just like the day she’d met him, he was confident, carrying himself with ease. He seemed comfortable—but then, this was probably his home. It looked quainter and cuter than she’d expected, but his khakis looked good against the beige siding, and his light blue shirt almost matching the navy shutters. His sleeves were rolled up, displaying solid arms, and he looked like he could’ve just built the house instead of simply living there.

  When he saw her, he smiled, and it lit a spark in her. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as bad as she’d thought. He still seemed to enjoy seeing her, the glow in his eyes making her happier than she thought she had any right to be. She smiled back.

  He leaned against the railing leading up the front steps. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Oh?”

  He nodded. “I’ve been working on something.”

  She opened her mouth to ask what, but instead she went with, “It’s a beautiful home.”

  “You think so? The gardens can be a lot of work, but I think it’s worth it. It’s one of my rental properties. One of my first ones, actually.”

  “That’s neat. Have you had it for long?”

  “For about five years. A nice couple just moved out of it actually, into their first starter home. I’ll miss their rent, but they deserve to own their own home. They took care of this one and always invited me in for lemonade whenever I stopped by.”

  “That’s nice of them. I hope they have a garden in their new home too.”

  “Before I show you the house, there’s something I want you to see,” he said, turning and making his way toward the garden shed. Now that she was closer to it, she realized it was a lot bigger than she’d thought. Almost the size of a small garage, really, though she didn’t see any windows. The front had carriage doors, but they seemed to be just for show, a smaller, person-sized door cut into them cleverly so you could get inside without opening the whole front of the shed.

  He opened the door for her, just like he’d always done, and he took the wrapped painting. She stepped inside. The first thing she saw was the windows along the back, facing north. Then she saw the inside of the building and stared.

  It was a painting studio, exactly like the one she’d created in her painting, right down to the placement of the windows and the color of the walls. Cassie knew it couldn’t be a coincidence.

  “I wanted something to work from,” he said as he walked inside, right behind her. “You know I deal in real estate, and I thought this one could be perfect for you, with a little adjustment.”

  It was. She didn’t care if the house had termites, this space alone was perfect. But there was no way she could afford the rent.

  “Did you know you were going to do this when you commissioned the painting?”

  He shook his head. “Honestly, no. I was still getting to know you then. But the closer we became, the more I thought about surprising you with a studio that looked just like your mock ups.”

  “Thank you, Hank. Really. But…like I told you a few days ago, I’m not an artistic success. I couldn’t possibly—”

  He cut her off. “You’re a gifted artist, Cassie. I know things are rough and you haven’t had your art in front of the public eye long enough for them to appreciate it yet, but I believe in you. I know you’ll achieve a great career. You just need a little help here at the beginning.”

  It was a dream studio, and anyone would be lucky to have it. But she knew she couldn’t accept it from him…and if they weren’t together, she didn’t think she’d want it. “What about the fact that you don’t know me? I’ve been lying to you, remember?”

  He came around her, setting the finished painting against a storage cabinet along one wall—one he’d probably stocked with art supplies, knowing him. “You only lied about a couple of things, Cassie, and together, I think we can make it actually come true…if you know what I mean.”

  She laughed, but she felt more like crying. It was too wonderful, too much, too unbelievable, but he put his arms around her and drew her into a hug.

  “I know you don’t like your current place, so don’t even try to pretend you don’t want to move in here.”

  She laughed, and stopped halfway as she held back a sniffle. “Of course I do. This is amazing. I can’t believe you set all this up for me. I don’t know how to thank you enough.”

  “Just seeing you happy is enough.”

  She pulled back enough to see his face. “I will pay rent, though, at some point. I can’t just stay here for free.”

  “We can work something out. But for now, no pressure. So, what do you think?”

  “I love it.”

  “Are you sure? It’s a big step.”

  She took a few more steps into the studio…her studio—where there was room for multiple easels to display her paintings so she could work on more than one project, and not an ant in sight. “I want to go pack my stuff right now. How’s that for an answer?”

  He chuckled. “That’s a pretty good one.”

  “Just so long as it’s fair. I don’t want to let this complicate things between us or ruin anything or—”

  He closed the space between them and took her hands in his. “It won’t, I promise. If it does, we’ll figure something else out. You’re a special woman, Cassie, and…I want you in my life. And not just as an artist.”

  She’d waited so long to hear him say that, and now that he had, she was having trouble with the right words to say. His arms felt so strong around her. She couldn’t feel more safe than she did right then. This was a fairy-tale, a dream come true and she couldn’t believe it was happening to her.

  That did it. She wouldn’t hear another word. She reached up on her toes and pressed her lips against his. It was the only thing she could think of to do or say that fully conveyed how she felt in that moment. How appreciative she was. Her feet lifted off the ground and they hovered there for entire minutes.

  Even though she didn’
t use words, he seemed to have gotten the message.

  Epilogue

  One Year Later

  “There,” Cassie said as she finished up the last brushstroke. It didn’t matter how many paintings she’d completed, it still felt incredible each time. She compared it to an adrenaline high of a skydiver once they reached the ground.

  The sun was warm as it filtered through the windows behind her. She never got tired of how beautifully even and consistent it was, giving her canvas proper illumination without distorting the colors. As she inspected the painting in front of her, she felt like the image almost came alive, bringing its own warmth and light to bear.

  “You’re getting better.” Hank’s voice said over her left shoulder. She turned to see him moving toward her through her still-not-crowded studio. This time, he was dressed casually, in a green T-shirt and jeans, but she thought he’d never looked more handsome. The farmers’ market was closed for the season now, but he came by often, whenever she wasn’t working, just to see how his new “tenant” was doing. But of course, she was much more than that.

  “Are you saying I wasn’t amazing to begin with?”

  “You know I’m a fan. You could say your first real fan. But everyone can get just that little bit better.”

  “You definitely were my first real fan. And I’m grateful for that. Do you think this painting needs more balance? More shadows?”

  “I think it’s fine the way it is.”

  She turned away from the painting to tease him. “If I don’t analyze my art, how am I supposed to get any better?”

  “You have a better eye for it than I do.”

  He closed the gap and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her into a hug from behind. She relaxed into his warmth. Then she tried to pull away. “Hank, your shirt! You’ll get paint on it.”

  “I’m dating an artist. We’ll call it an occupational hazard.”