Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
Raffo wanted to call Connor so badly. A couple of times, she picked up her cell and her finger hovered over his number. But she had agreed to keep Dylan’s secret. Lovely, sweet Dylan. Raffo couldn’t tell anyone that she had walked in on her best friend’s mother half-naked, and had subsequently spent a lovely evening with her. Maybe it was for the best, even if she and Connor had the kind of relationship that didn’t harbor many secrets—Raffo knew more about Murray, Connor’s boyfriend, than she ever wanted to know. In return, Connor knew all the details of Raffo’s failed open relationship with Mia—not that Raffo had taken much advantage of the opening up part of their decade-long affair.
As she brushed her teeth, and looked at herself in the mirror, she concluded it might be easier to hide out in Big Bear to keep Dylan’s secret than to go back to Los Angeles, where she actually had to face Connor and would actively have to lie to him until his mother told him where she really was. Staying here protected her from doing that—and she still had to get her mojo back.
On top of all that, if you could judge such a thing by one evening spent together, Dylan was wonderful company. Although that shouldn’t come as a surprise to Raffo. Connor only ever spoke highly of his mother. They were thick as thieves, which is why it surprised Raffo that Dylan would keep such a big thing from Connor.
She texted Connor that she had arrived safely at his mother’s house in Big Bear Lake, but wouldn’t be able to speak to him on the phone due to spotty cell and internet service. She added, to cover her tracks more, that she was happy to be off the grid for a while—perhaps it would enable her to paint again quicker—and thanked him for the opportunity to stay at his mother’s house. It didn’t feel totally right—of course it didn’t—but Raffo was here with Dylan, so she had to follow her rules.
As she got into bed, she did hope that Dylan would come to her senses and tell her son sooner rather than later. Maybe she could talk to her about it tomorrow, after she’d told her that she had decided to stay a while. To take things easy and enjoy a slow, unhurried, stress-free pace of life. With Dylan as unexpected but pleasant company.
For the first time in a long while, Raffo fell asleep almost as soon as she closed her eyes. Yet another reason to stay.
“I’m truly thrilled.” Dylan’s lips seemed to have taken on a life of their own and were fixed in a permanent smile. What was that all about? Sure, she was glad for the companionship because it got her out of her own head, where she’d been spending too much time, but it couldn’t just be that. Dylan glanced at Raffo, who looked brooding yet radiant in the morning light, and realized that she was looking forward to helping Raffo feel better about herself. To see her come into her own again. To watch her paint. It would be such an honor to witness Raffo Shah put paint to canvas. “Please, stay as long as you like.”
“I do have an issue with not telling Connor.” Raffo was nothing if not straightforward. “I get it, but I hate lying to him.”
“I know.” In the grand scheme of things, and in the hierarchies of white lies—if there even was such a thing—Dylan didn’t think this particular lie, this omission of the truth more like, was that bad. She just needed a little more time to lick her wounds before facing Connor who, she knew very well, would ultimately be understanding, but not before making a big drama out of it. A drama she could do without at this stage. And she had already set the lie in motion when she had supposedly left for Europe, where she was meant to stay for two months. “Can you give me a little more time, please?” Dylan looked into Raffo’s dark eyes.
“He’s my best friend, not just my gallerist.” Raffo sounded earnest.
Dylan nodded. There wasn’t much else she could do.
“Also, um…” The hesitation in Raffo’s words didn’t show in her face when she looked at Dylan. “Given your circumstances, I want to pay rent for staying here. It’s only fair.”
“You don’t have to pay to stay here, Raffo.” Dylan shook her head. “I’m not destitute.”
In response, Raffo just arched up her thick, black eyebrows.
“Okay, look.” Dylan placed her elbows on the kitchen island and leaned toward Raffo. “I’ll make you a deal.”
Raffo tilted her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “Yes?”
“Paint something for me. You don’t have to give me the work. But if you want to pay me some kind of rent for staying, then get your mojo back while you’re here. That would mean a lot to me.”
Raffo frowned. “But getting my mojo back is a reward for me. I don’t get how that translates into paying you.”
“You getting your mojo back is a reward for everyone, including me.” Last night, Dylan had explored Raffo’s website and had marveled at her work. At its colors and its exuberant spirit. Even though she’d seen a lot of her paintings before, they looked different after spending an evening with the artist.
“But no pressure?” Raffo grinned.
“It’s not meant as pressure. Simply appreciation and an unshakable belief that you’ll be creating genius art again in no time.”
“Genius?” Raffo scoffed, then shook her head. “How about I buy all the groceries and take you out for a meal whenever you want?” She scratched the side of her head. “I’d offer to cook, but then I think you’ll want me to leave as soon as possible.”
“Deal.” Dylan stretched out her hand.
Raffo looked at it, then shook it.
“Your cooking is that bad?” Dylan asked.
“It’s not so much that I can’t cook,” Raffo said. “It’s more that I have such an aversion to it that you can taste it in the food I make.”
“Really?” Dylan was more intrigued by Raffo with every minute she spent with her. “Why is that?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Good thing we’ll be here for a while.” Dylan couldn’t shake the feeling that, ever since Raffo had arrived, things had started looking up for her—despite her bank account not having been magically replenished overnight.
Raffo chuckled low in her throat. “How about you make me a shopping list and I go to the store first?”