Chapter 27
I couldn’t find Quade anywhere. He wasn’t in the kitchen. He wasn’t in the guest room, and he wasn’t on the porch. If his car wasn’t outside, I would have assumed he was gone.
“Quade!” I called his name from atop the basement stairs, but he didn’t answer.
I thought about using the stair lift, but I wasn’t confident enough with it yet.
I had only been staying in Quade’s house for three weeks, and he’d already made so many modifications to make it easier for me to get around.
Every time I turned a corner, there was some new addition I hadn’t noticed before—a lowered shelf in the kitchen, a small ramp between the back patio and the door, a grab bar in the hallway bathroom that hadn’t been there yesterday.
I closed the basement door and rolled back down the hallway, past the linen closet.
I gazed in and spotted folded towels with my favorite detergent scent.
This man! His attention to detail about making space for me in his home was so thoughtful.
I turned the corner toward the bedroom, but I heard movement behind a door that used to be locked, the one he’d told me not to go in.
“Quade!” I called, noticing the door was slightly cracked. Pushing the door open slowly, I peeked in, and there he was, as if I hadn’t been calling his name for the last five minutes. He was on the floor, sweat glistening across the back of his neck, sleeves pushed up with his AirPods in his ears.
My eyes roamed the room. On one side, there was a soundboard, a mic, and a small vocal booth tucked into the corner.
Wires ran clean across the floor, leading to speakers mounted on the wall.
It looked like a real studio. On the other side, there were blank canvases stacked along the wall, tall storage cabinets, and jars of brushes and paints.
A stool sat in front of an easel near the window. Was this a shared space?
“You finally left the door open!” I yelled so he could hear me over whatever was playing in his earphones. He turned around slowly as if he wasn’t sure if he had heard correctly.
“Damn. You weren’t supposed to see this yet.” He looked like a kid who had just gotten caught sneaking cookies out of the cookie jar.
“What is this?” I rolled further in, eyes wide.
“Our studio,” he said. “A place we can create together. I hope the lighting is good enough for you.”
“It’s… perfect.”
“I was gonna try to surprise you once everything was built.”
I looked around the room, emotions welling up inside me. “This… this is what you’ve been working on?”
“Yeah. It’s why I told you to stay out of here.
I’m glad you listened for once.” He smiled.
I rolled my eyes playfully at his sarcasm as I continued rolling around the room.
The desk was wide enough to hold my sketchbooks.
The shelves were reachable from my chair.
Even the drawer handles were easier for me to grip.
“I figured,… you know, you needed somewhere to create, and I need to record an album, so…”
“I love it,” I whispered.
“Yeah?”
“It’s beautiful.” My voice cracked. “You did all this for me?”
He stepped over to me and crouched down to my eye level. “Of course, I did.”
“Thank you.” A tear slipped out of my eyes before I could catch it, and he reached for my hand just as the one tear turned into a sob, and I broke down.
I didn’t mean to fall apart, but the way he had been carving me into his space made me emotional.
I’d lost everything: my house, my work, my peace, and I’d almost lost my life, and he’d been a godsend in it all.
He not only saved my life, but he spent every day making sure everything I’d lost was restored.
“It’s okay, sunshine. I got you.” He pulled me in and allowed me a moment to release. “How was the call with the insurance people?” he asked once I was calm.
“They’re not budging. They’ll cover a portion but nowhere near what I need to rebuild. They just want to demolish it and cut me a check.”
“Don’t worry. The house will be rebuilt, repaired, whatever it takes. Okay?”
I rested my head near his shoulder. The fire left a heaviness in me, but it hurt less when he was close.
He pulled back. “I was gonna wait until this whole room was done to give you this, but…” He stood, wiped his hands, and walked out for a moment. When he came back, he carried a large, yellow box tied with a purple ribbon. He set it down in front of me gently.
“What’s this?”
“Open it.”
I hesitated for a moment, scared that whatever was inside was going to have me falling apart again.
I lifted the lid and inside were several large canvases.
I reached in, my hands shaking, and immediately cried again.
The first canvas I pulled out was one of my oldest paintings.
It had been hanging on my wall. It was a picture of my dad holding me as a baby.
I’d painted it from an old Polaroid photo.
It had a little smoke damage on the corners, but it was intact.
My breath caught, and I pulled out a photo album.
I opened it to see a photo of my grandmother on her sewing machine.
And another one of me and Teagan as little girls.
“I…” My voice was shaky. “Quade,… how? I thought all my things were ruined in the fire?”
“We were able to save some things. Rico and James helped me dig through what we could, took them straight to a restoration spot.”
“I thought they were all gone,” I whispered, pulling out another canvas. It was pretty little bird.
“That one was,” he said. “I had Zy repaint it. Took us a few tries, but we got it right.”
My hand flew to my mouth as tears fell down my face.
“Zy painted this… with you?” I was shocked. Zy was talented, but piecing together one of my favorite pieces from memory was on a different level.
“It was his idea. He wanted to do something for you.”
“This means so much. I can’t wait to thank him,” I said. “Thank you, baby.”
He didn’t say anything, just dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around me in my chair, like he was holding every broken piece of me together. I melted into him, burying my face in his shoulder, letting the safety of his arms comfort me.
“I think you should repeat the chorus.”
“You my producer now?” Quade glanced up at me from behind the glass. Quade was in the booth recording, while I finished up the painting I’d been working on all morning.
“I’m just saying. It hit harder the second time.” I smirked and dipped my brush into the water cup.
“Alright, I’ll run it back,” he said, then leaned back into the mic.
I kept on painting, brushing a thin streak of gold across the canvas.
We’d fallen into a rhythm lately, me painting, him recording, both of us sharing the space without stepping on each other’s toes, supporting each other in our crafts perfectly.
I reached for the green paint and caught the screen of my phone lighting up.
Slowly, I set the brush down and reached for it.
It was probably Teagan reminding me to take my meds or another blog post about Quae Lo’s disabled girlfriend’s house burning down.
But as I clicked the notifications, my mouth dropped.
Patrice Kelly Design Team: Design Collab Opportunity
I stared at the message for a minute before clicking it. Was this spam? Was someone playing with me? Slowly, I tapped it.
Dear Noa,
We had the pleasure of attending your recent gallery show, and we’re completely captivated by your collection. Your work spoke to us in a way that nothing has in a long time.
We would love to collaborate with you on a collection featuring your original designs on our handbags and apparel. We envision a full rollout and creative direction led by you.
If you’re interested, let us know your availability this week to connect.
Warmly,
—The Patrice Kelly Creative Team
My vision blurred as the tears instantly fell from my eyes. I wasn’t even thinking about the gallery show anymore. I’d done it, enjoyed it, and moved on. I never thought anything like this would come from it.
“Noa!” The music in the booth stopped, and Quade made his way out and over to me, headphones still wrapped around his neck.
“Noa?” He called my name again. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
I held the phone out to him with shaky hands. I was too consumed with emotions to speak. He took it quickly. His eyes scanned the screen, and then his mouth dropped open.
“Yo…” He looked at me, then back at the screen. “Yo, this real?”
I nodded, tears falling fast down my face. “They were at the gallery,” I whispered. “They saw my stuff, and… they want me to do a whole line.”
He grinned as he closed the space between us and scooped me up from my chair like I weighed nothing.
“A fucking fashion line!” He spun me around in the middle of our studio. My arms wrapped around his neck on instinct as I laughed through my tears, and the room blurred behind us.
“Noa, baby, this is fucking huge,” he said. “They want to put my baby’s art on bags. In campaigns. Your name on a whole damn collection. The whole damn world is going to know your talent. That’s dope as fuck!” He kissed me long and hard as I cried in his arms.
“I didn’t expect something like this to ever happen to me, especially not now. Not after the fire.”
“The universe don’t play about you, baby.” He kissed the top of my head. “You needed a win. And it delivered.”
“I gotta call Teagan.” I laughed through the tears.
“You better.” He brushed my bang out of my face. “She’s already going to be mad I knew about it first.”
“Yeah, she’s going to cuss us both out.” I laughed, still breathless. I squealed again as Quade gently lowered me back into my chair, spinning me once before letting go.
“My baby is about to be a star,” he said mostly to himself while he made his way back into the booth.
“A star!” I said in disbelief as I reached for my phone, tapping Teagan’s name. My life was about to change, and I couldn’t wait to share the news.