Chapter 42
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Sinclair
GOOD MORNING SWEETHEART.
The message spelled out in candy hearts on the dining room table lures a giggle out of me. It’s the same sound I made when Jameson called me sweetheart on my fifteenth birthday.
I had told him that my boyfriend at the time decided that it was cute to call me “sweet cheeks.”
I hated it and told him to knock it off.
When I confided in Jameson that I loathed the pet name, he stared at me, and with a straight face, told me I was a sweetheart, not a sweet cheeks. Then he sang Happy Birthday to me, replacing my name with sweetheart. It was the best part of that birthday.
Over the years, he’d toss the endearment out whenever he knew I needed a laugh. I secretly loved it, and when he left town, I longed to hear it again, even if it didn’t come straight from his heart. It meant something to me.
I look down at the phone in my hand and make a split second decision.
I punch out a text without putting any thought into it.
Sinclair: I got the candy message. Good morning to you too.
I press send and wait.
It doesn’t take more than a few seconds before his reply comes through.
Jameson: Ah, the beauty has awakened from her deep slumber. You have the most adorable snore in the world.
Laughing, I type out another message.
Sinclair: It can’t possibly be more adorable than you talking in your sleep.
When I woke shortly after three a.m., Jameson was mumbling something under his breath about candies.
I smile when I read his reply.
Jameson: What exactly did I say? Let me guess. It was about how good you give head, right? Because fucking wow, Sin.
I skim a finger over my bottom lip. I did that sometime before dawn. It was intimate and tender. When we were finished, Jameson held me in his arms as I drifted back to sleep.
Sinclair: I’m glad you liked that.
His reply takes less than five seconds.
Jameson: Liked? I FUCKING LOVED IT!
I smile, letting out a huge sigh as I type out my final message of the morning.
Sinclair: I’m leaving for a meeting now.
I point toward the door of the penthouse. “Are you ready for a walk, Duds? It’ll be a quick one because I have to meet Brighton in thirty minutes.”
Dudley barks his approval as he races toward the door.
A soft chime from my phone lures my gaze back to the screen.
Jameson: Good luck with the meeting. Did you get my number from the notepad in my bedroom, or did you never delete it?
It would be an easy confession to make, but it would reveal a lot more than I want to right now. I already feel vulnerable after everything we did last night and our brief conversation about the day Jameson left New York.
My fingers dart over the screen as I type out a quick reply.
Sinclair: You’ll never know.
I watch as the three dots bounce on the screen. When the message comes through, I hold my breath and smile.
Jameson: I’ll need to be an ass and assume then. I’m going with you kept my number in your phone while I was away. I’ll see you later, sweetheart.
I step into the reception area of Brighton Beck’s art studio, and a sense of joy fills me.
When Brighton first invited me here, it was on a Saturday.
The space was bustling because of all the lessons and workshops that were taking place.
Kids wearing oversized white button-down shirts over their clothing raced by me. Most of those shirts were covered with an array of paints. I couldn’t help but smile because they looked like little works of art running around.
We sat in Brighton’s personal studio that day while he worked on a large painting that someone in France had commissioned. I was mesmerized watching him work while we talked about his career.
It was inspiring in every way imaginable.
Since then, Beck has become a friend to me. I know that once our book releases, we’ll stay in touch. I can sense that, and it makes me incredibly happy.
“Sinclair!” He calls out to me as he approaches.
He’s dressed as he typically is, in faded jeans and a T-shirt. The colorful sleeves of tattoos that cover his arms are breathtaking art in their own right.
“Hey!” I raise a hand in greeting. “How are you?”
As usual, Brighton bundles me into his arms for an embrace. “I’m good. What about you?”
I step back to look at his face. His blue eyes are such a unique shade that it’s hard not to stare at him.
Before I can tell him that I’m great, he sighs. “Your brother told me you’ve had some personal stuff going on. You lost someone close to you recently. I’m sorry to hear that.”
I nod. “She was a good friend.”
“From what Berk said, her grandson is a good friend too.” His eyebrows curve up. “A close friend.”
I can’t help but smile. I should have known that Berk would spill some details about what’s happening in my life. “We were close friends at one time. We’re figuring out what we are to one another now.”
He rubs his chin. “Does that mean you’re more than close friends?”
I’m comfortable with Brighton, but not that comfortable, so I laugh it off. “That has yet to be determined.”
“In other words, butt the hell out of it, Brighton.” He laughs.
I reach for his forearm to pat it. “The truth is that I like where we are now, but we hurt each other deeply a couple of years ago.”
“Don’t let the pain of the past steal your future, Sin,” he says. “Finding your person in a world this vast is a feat. Don’t let pride get in the way of that.”
I take the advice to heart because he’s been happily married for years.
“You’re wise.” I smile.
“That’s debatable.” He gestures to the corridor that leads to all the studios, including his. “I’ll work while we talk about the launch party, and from what I’ve heard, you’ve got a few paintings of your own to show me.”
I laugh. “Berk told you I’ve been painting, didn’t he?”
Brighton chuckles. “He sure as hell did. He said you’re a natural.”
I tug my phone out of my tote bag and open the camera app. I turn the phone toward him to show a painting I completed before I moved in with Jameson. “Berk thinks I am the next coming of the illustrious Brighton Beck, but I want to write memoirs that capture who people are.”
Brighton glances at the screen. “I see promise in the painting, but you need to follow your heart. I’m blown away by the work you did on our book. There isn’t another person on this earth I would trust with my story.”
I smile brightly. “That’s one of the greatest compliments I’ve ever received.”
“You’re on the right path.” He looks into my eyes. “Have you settled on your next project yet?”
I nod. “I have. It’s a personal project. It’s very close to my heart. I’m gathering everything I need together now, and then I’ll pitch the idea to Berk. If he gives the green light, this will be the first book with only my name on the cover.”
He moves to squeeze my shoulder. “He’ll be on board. You capture magic in your written words, Sin. Your career is just getting started.”