Chapter 31 Javonte
We’ve been back for two days, and I still feel like I brought some of that sun home with me.
Not literally. This heat has already lost its mind, and I don’t need any extra help sweating through my shirt.
But everything feels lighter. Lily and I are good. Really good.
The kind of good where she texts me pictures of her lunch because it looks terrible, and she calls me just to tell me something funny Edie said. We’re in a place where I don’t have to wonder if she’s going to answer when I call.
She always answers. She laughs. She says she loves me freely.
I’m trying not to act brand new about it, but I’m brand new about it.
Lily’s mine again, and I know better than to say that out loud to her because she would remind me that she belongs to herself. Which is true. I respect that.
But she’s mine too.
A little bit...enough.
I thought coming home would feel easy after the Bahamas, but her vacation glow didn’t even survive one full workday. We were on a video call last night, and she had that look on her face again. Tired eyes. Hair pulled up. Laptop open. Dinner untouched beside her.
She said she was fine, but she was lying.
I didn’t push, because I’m learning. But I watched her rub her temple while she talked about some employee relations meeting that should have been an email, and I wanted to reach through the phone and close her laptop myself.
She doesn’t want that promotion.
Deep down, I don’t think she wants that job at all.
What she wants is Lit with Lily. That’s when she lights up. I saw it at the resort when she painted on the terrace. I saw it at the market when she talked to that vendor about colors and brushstrokes and women needing to be painted resting more often.
That version of Lily was peaceful.
Then she came home and went right back to carrying everybody else’s problems.
I sit back on my couch and stare at the ceiling.
There has to be a way for her to do Lit with Lily full time...Not eventually. As soon as possible.
She needs real space. Not her garage half-swallowed by tables and paint supplies. Not a van full of things she has to load, unload, and pretend don’t wear her out.
She needs somewhere that gives back to her for once.
I sit up slowly, nodding my head.
That’s what she needs.
I call Zea because she’s the only person I know who will tell me the truth 100% of the time. Also, she likes Lily enough to care if I mess this up.
She steps into the empty space and looks around with her nose turned up. “This smells like dust and mildew.”
“It’s empty. That’s why we’re here.”
“It’s giving abandoned hopes and dreams.”
I look around again, trying to see what she sees. The floors need work, and the walls are plain white, but the windows are huge. Light pours in from the front, and there’s enough room for tables, shelves, storage, maybe a little check-in counter near the door.
I can see it. Easels lined up. Paintings on the wall. Lily at the front of the room, smiling that bright teaching smile she gets when somebody surprises themselves.
“It’s got potential,” I tell her.
Zea walks to the middle of the room and spins in a slow circle. “Potential is what people say when they’re trying to talk themselves into making a bad decision.”
I ignore that. She’s not wrong, but I’m not in the mood to let her be right.
“She could hold classes here. Way more than she can do now. No more hauling tables and chairs in and out of her van all the time. She could keep supplies here, have shelves along that wall, maybe cabinets in the back.”
Zea turns toward me with her arms folded. “Did she say she wanted a studio?”
I walk toward the back, pretending I don’t hear her. There’s a smaller room behind the main space, big enough for storage and maybe an office. Lily could have a desk back here. A place for scheduling, supplies, whatever else she does that I didn’t even know about until she told me over smoothies.
She’s been running a whole business out of borrowed rooms and the back of a van. That doesn’t sit right with me anymore.
“She wants to do Lit with Lily full time,” I say.
“Did she say that?”
I stop at the doorway and look at her.
Zea raises her eyebrows. “That wasn’t a trick question.”
“She hates her job.”
“That’s also not what I asked.”
This girl is sixteen years old and somehow always sounds like she’s about to send me to my room.
“She loves Lit with Lily,” I tell her. “She lights up when she talks about it. You should’ve seen her in the Bahamas. She was painting on the terrace, and she looked peaceful. Then she came back home and went right back to work, and now she looks tired again.”
Zea’s face softens a little, but not enough for me to win. “Okay, but tired people don’t always want somebody to buy them a building.”
“I’m not buying her a building.”
“What are you doing?”
I look around. “Leasing. Maybe buy it, if it makes sense.”
She stares at me.
“What?”
Zea shakes her head. “Do you hear yourself?”
“I’m trying to help her.”
“I know,” she says, softer than I expect. “That’s why I’m asking if she wants this.”
I don’t answer because the truth is she didn’t.
But I know Lily. Her garage is packed, her van stays full, and she’s always running from work to an event like she’s supposed to have another whole body waiting somewhere.
I saw her on that terrace with the ocean in front of her and nothing pulling at her. I saw how she looked when she had room. I know what she looks like when she has room to breathe.
I take in the space. This could give her peace.
I step into the back room and look through the window. There’s a little fenced area behind the building; It’s not pretty right now, but it’s private with concrete, weeds, old planters, a storage shed that needs to be hauled off.
Once it’s cleaned up, we can put a couple of tables, a drying rack, and somewhere for her to pour the paint water and let it evaporate the way she said she does at home.
“This part is perfect,” I say, opening the back door. “Look. She could do her paint water thing out here.”
Zea follows me outside. “Her what?”
“She doesn’t pour paint water down the sink. She evaporates it.”
Zea looks at me for a second. “That is very Lily.”
“I know. She could have a station out here for that. Covered, so rain doesn’t mess it up. Maybe a little locked cabinet for buckets. I can get somebody to build it.”
“You can get somebody to build anything,” she says.
I turn to her. “Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?”
“Because you’re standing in an empty building planning where this woman is going to dump paint water, and she doesn’t even know you’re doing this.”
I open my mouth.
Nothing comes out.
Zea points at me. “Exactly.”
“I want to surprise her.”
“I know. Men love surprises when the surprise is actually a decision they already made.”
I frown. “That’s not fair.”
“Is it not fair or is it uncomfortable?”
I hate this child.
She walks back inside, and I follow her. She stands in the middle of the room again and looks around.
“It could be cute. I’m not saying it couldn’t. I can see the little shelves and the tables and the signs and all that. She could make videos here too. The lighting is good. She could do classes, reels, behind-the-scenes stuff. Maybe even sell kits.”
I nod. That’s what I’m talking about. “Exactly.”
Zea holds up one finger. “But.”
I sigh. “There’s always a 'but’ with you.”
“There should be. I’m smart.”
She looks around again. “But Lily should be the one deciding if this is cute.
“She will.”
“When? After you already signed something?”
“I’m not signing anything today.”
“Good.”
“I’m just looking.”
“Good.”
“I’m gathering information.”
“Good.”
“You’re being annoying.”
“Also good.”
I walk toward the front windows and imagine Lily standing there with paint on her fingers, smiling at a room full of people. I imagine her not having to pack and unpack. Not having to book and dole out cash for good venues. Not having to carry everything on her back.
I want that for her.
I want to be the reason she gets it.
Zea comes to stand beside me. “You’re trying. I know you are.”
“I am.”
“Just don’t make the whole dream for her before she gets to say if she wants it.”
I turn my head toward her. “You got that from a movie?”
“No. I’m just brilliant.”
I can’t hold back my laugh.
She smiles, then nudges my arm. “At least ask her before you do anything big.”
“I said I’m not signing anything today.”
“Today is doing a lot of work in that sentence.”
I look down at my phone at the realtor’s message asking if I want to move forward with an application. My thumb hovers over the screen.
Zea leans over. “Don’t you do it.”
“I’m not.”
“You look like you are.”
“I’m thinking.”
“That’s dangerous.”
I put my phone in my pocket before I can respond. “Come on. Let’s go look at one more place.”
“One more place Lily did not ask for?”
“One more place I’m just looking at.”
She gives me a look. “Mmhmm.”
I hold the door open for her, and she walks out first, still shaking her head.
“What?” I ask.
“You’re lucky I’m here.”
I follow her out and lock the door behind us.
She’s right.