15. Chapter 15
I reach for the alarm before it has a chance to go off. Between what happened yesterday afternoon and what I have to endure today, I’ve been up all night.
The bridal shower booking I’ve dreaded for almost two months is scheduled for eleven this morning. When the maid of honor called and wanted to make a reservation for a bridal party, she sounded so excited. I couldn’t say no. I’m expecting twelve women and a few girls to come in.
I’m grateful for the fact that Sam will be there to help. Yesterday was his first day working at the studio. Hiring him was the best decision I’ve made in a long time.
He’s professional, knowledgeable, and proactive. He’s courteous and helpful to every customer as soon as they walk in the door. I didn’t have to encourage or remind him to do anything. I must say I’m pleasantly surprised and grateful.
Katherine is getting out of the hospital today, so in preparation for her release, I closed the studio a bit early yesterday, and I stopped by the hospital to pick up the flowers, gifts, balloons, and plants she had in her room.
When I arrived, I ran into Christina, Peter, and Holly, who were there to see Katherine and the baby. Holly was sitting on the bed, and Katherine was carefully placing Jon on her lap. I quickly pulled out my phone and snapped a picture of Holly smiling down at Jon, and without hesitation, I texted the photo to Aaron.
“Is Aaron here?” I heard myself ask before having a chance to stop myself.
Katherine snapped her head up and gave me a very thorough, questioning glance.
“He has some business to attend to in Boston,” his mother said. “So he’ll be gone for a week. We get to spend six whole days with Holly.” It was obvious that she was looking forward to every second of it.
I must have had a disappointed look on my face because when I glanced over at Katherine again, she was looking down at the baby, but she had a smirk on her face that only I could read.
“I really hope he meets a nice woman during one of his trips,” Christina continued, “He’s been alone too long.”
“Honey,” Peter begins, “You can’t rush him on something like this.”
“Yes, but Holly needs-” she stopped mid-sentence, realizing Holly could hear her comment. We all knew what she meant.
And then it happened.
“I want Loren to be my mommy,” Holly’s words pierced my heart like a flaming arrow. I thought it would explode inside my chest. I love this child and would like nothing more than to be her mom. The realization left me cold. I reached for the rings around my neck, feeling like I was betraying Justin.
Katherine, Christina, and Peter looked at me like I had just grown three heads. I shrugged my shoulders, trying my best to keep my composure.
“Holly, that is such a sweet thing to say,” I said before anyone else could say something to either of us. I then walked over to Holly and kissed her on the top of her head.
Ignoring everyone’s glances, I focused on picking up some plants on the table. “I’ll drop these off at your house,” I told Katherine. “Do you need me to run any other errands?”
“No,” she said smiling, “Adam and Tori are taking care of everything as we speak.”
Peter followed my lead, picked up two flower arrangements, and offered to help me take them to my car.
We grabbed a couple of gift bags each and walked out of the room together.
“I’m so sorry about Holly,” he said as soon as we entered the elevator, “What she said, I mean.”
“Don’t worry about it, Peter,” I said, trying to put his mind at ease. “I love Holly. I know she misses her mom, and no one can blame her for wanting what most children have.”
The resemblance between Peter and Aaron is incredible. We made two trips to the car and spent the entire time talking about Holly and the studio.
When we returned to the room, Katherine was changing the baby, and Christina was picking up all the greeting cards spread on top of the small table.
Before leaving, I invited Peter and Christina to take Holly to the studio if they needed something to keep her entertained for a couple of hours during the week.
Christina has only been to the studio once, when she came in with Mom. She looked around, admiring all the finished pieces, and told me she thought it was a lovely studio.
When I asked Holly if she wanted to visit me at the studio again, she gave a resounding “Yes!”
“Make sure you ask your daddy if it’s ok,” I said.
“Oh, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Christina said, smiling, “Maybe we can sit down and paint something special for Daddy.”
“I can’t wait!” Holly exclaimed as she clapped her hands, “Grandpa, are you going to paint a cup too?”
“Of course I am, Princess,” he said, looking over at me, “Make sure you bring out the biggest cup. On second thought, maybe I’ll need a huge bowl so I can unleash my creative juices and showcase my vast artistic talent.”
We all laughed together at Peter’s self-deprecation. When I left, I gave them all a hug, and before walking out the door, I looked over at Peter one last time and smiled. He gave me a dimpled smile and a quick little wink in return.
Five minutes after I walk into the studio, Sam comes in holding two large cups of coffee. Smiling ear to ear, I remind myself just how much I appreciate this guy.
“Good morning,” he says, handing me a cup. I inhale the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee and take a sip.
“Hmm, you read my mind,” I say. “I didn’t sleep at all last night.”
“Dare I ask?” he asks, giving me a tentative glance.
“Ugh, it’s a long story,” I reply, not wanting to relive the looks I got from Katherine and the Baldwins when Holly said she wants me to be her mommy.
When I remain silent, he begins pulling some sample pieces from the shelf.
Sam is tall. Six foot six inches tall, to be exact. I know because I asked. He’s a year older than me. He played basketball for UCLA and graduated five years ago with a degree in computer science. Two years ago, he quit his corporate job and started freelancing as a software developer.
His looks are that of a blond surfer from the sunny beaches of California. He’s tanned and full of lean, sinewy muscle. I think his eyes are blue.
I glance at him and confirm that, yes, his eyes are, in fact, blue. I sat across from this man for almost half an hour, and I couldn’t recall the color of his eyes. I find it disconcerting that I have no problem remembering every detail of Aaron’s hazel eyes, including the fact that his smile didn’t reach them that day in front of my house. But the last few times I’ve seen him, something else has been reflected in his gaze. It’s no longer sadness. I try to focus back on Sam, who’s efficiently setting up the tables for the bridal group.
“Earth to Loren,” I hear him say, “Are you daydreaming?”
“I’m sorry,” I say, looking for something to do.
“So, tell me why a genius like you would be working in a tiny studio like this?” I ask, wanting to change the subject.
“I’m a people person,” he says, “When I started freelancing, I became a one-person show. Don’t take me wrong, I enjoy what I do and only work on projects I’m passionate about, but I don’t get to interact with people face to face. I started battling depression when I realized my career was lucrative but lonely. I saw a therapist, and she said I should get a part-time job doing something I enjoy. So here I am.”
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I say.
When we open the studio at 10 o’clock, two couples are standing outside waiting to come in. Sam and I set them up on the other side of the room, away from the bridal party tables.
My phone dings, announcing I have a text. It’s Aaron thanking me for the photo. The message is short, “Thank you for the photo. It made my day.”
Just then, I look up to see Laila walking in the door, and I suddenly remember that I asked her to come in today to help me with the bridal group. Now that I have Sam, I should’ve told her there was no need, but I completely forgot.
She walks up to me and says, “At your service,” while giving me a lazy military salute. She’s wearing a black oversized sweatshirt with the sleeves pushed up to the elbows, blue jeans that hug her curves in all the right places, and a pair of cute ankle boots. Her dark hair is in a bun with long strands framing her face. She’s not wearing any make-up, so her freckles are on full display. Her eyelashes are long, and her cheeks are rosy. She’s breathtakingly beautiful.
Just then, Sam returns from the back room carrying a few unpainted pieces of bisque for the couples ready to start their projects. When he sees Laila, he stumbles and almost drops the load he’s carrying, but he quickly recovers.
“Who’s that?” Laila asks, her voice sweet and flirty. I know my sister.
When Sam finishes putting all the pieces down on the table and gives the couples some instructions, he walks towards us.
“This is Sam,” I say. “My new assistant. Sam, this is my sister, Laila.”
They shake hands, and I notice the look in Sam’s eyes.
If there’s such a thing as love at first sight, I just witnessed this man falling in love with my little sister.