Chapter 23 Eliza #3
I snorted, getting embarrassed. “I seriously doubt that.”
“Don’t do that,” he corrected. “Not with me. You left your notebook with all the little paintings in it open in the garden the other day, and I saw it. It’s obvious you love it,” he countered as he handed me a bright white oblong palette to put my paint on.
I felt so official. “I also saw the chef bear you drew for Katya and Sowerby. I tried to sell that too, but Katya won’t budge.
” He smiled playfully at me as he turned toward his own canvas and began confidently dipping his paintbrush in paint and then wiping it on the canvas as if he’d done this a thousand times.
I knew he was starting first to make me feel less self-conscious, which was why I couldn’t stop staring at him.
Just the fact that he knew enough about me to know to do that was baffling.
He paid so much attention to my little, unsaid details, it was almost unnerving.
And also, he looked absolutely adorable doing things.
I was thrilled to be able to paint freely, but I could’ve enjoyed myself just as much had I only sat there and watched him.
We continued this way in comfortable silence.
Occasionally, one of us would remark about the color we were using or joke about something like the names of the paint colors, but it was mostly just me talking as he let me get lost in the task.
It was meditative. Every so often, one of us would adjust to acquire more paint, and our arms would brush lightly.
I lost myself to the canvas and the scene in front of me.
I didn’t know what I was doing, but as soon as I started, it was as though another force took over for me.
I was possessed. A wizard in complete control over which world my blank canvas saw.
Each stroke of my brush became an exploration.
There could be no mistakes in the painting because whatever it became was entirely me.
My spirit bled in bright, sunset-hued colors, from my brush onto my painting as if a divine force had commanded it.
So much of me went into it that I felt nothing might be left inside my body but a happy, sated soul when I was finished.
After an hour or so, I looked over to find Jasper no longer painting but turned in his chair, fixated on me, fascination filling his eyes, his own painting having been completely abandoned.
I don’t think I could have pulled myself away from my ministrations for all the money in the world.
As I whisked color onto the canvas, my anxieties faded away until it was only me and the remainder of the sunset that was now gone, and I was left working with the photo I had snapped on my phone.
It was as if my cage door had opened and I had been released after a lifetime locked inside.
I could do anything. If I wanted the pinks to pop, I added more pink.
No one could stop me if I wanted to add something completely from my imagination, like a glint of light or a sparkle.
No one was telling me how it should be done or all that I was doing wrong.
Even Jasper offered no suggestions or thoughts.
Time slipped away from me and only came back when I found myself fixing details and I decided to stop before I ended up ruining it. Jasper’s voice was suddenly behind me.
“It’s unbelievable,” he whispered softly.
I turned to see him standing, staring at the canvas over my shoulder.
I stood and moved back beside him, stretching my legs and back. It had been hours, and he had been patient, letting me continue until I was ready to stop.
“Yours is great,” I said kindly, though only half of his canvas had been painted before he had abandoned it to watch me. “This was so much fun. Thank you so much for all of this.” I wrapped my arms around his waist in a hug, unable to help myself.
The second our bodies pressed together, the remainder of my worries flew from me.
Like our first hug, when everything else disappeared after he had helped me with the koi pond.
There was nothing sexual in the hug. Instead, it was supercharged with something deeper and, unfortunately, far, far more dangerous.
I tipped my head up to look at him. For a full minute, we just locked eyes and savored the comforts of the hug. When it grew too serious, he broke the silence.
“I’ll share the proceeds with you once I auction it off.”
A grin pulled at my mouth. “You think it’s okay?” I asked earnestly.
“It’s the second-most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” he said, never removing his dark, haunting eyes from mine.
“Thank you again. For everything.” Gratitude made my voice tremble.
“Thank you. That’s going to make me a lot of money,” he teased. “Are you hungry? Let’s eat. There’s pizza in the kitchen.”
“Oh, I love pizza!” I exclaimed excitedly, realizing how hungry I was.
“I know,” he muttered with a serious face and eyes tethered to mine.
After cleaning up and moving our paintings inside to dry against the wall in Jaspers’s giant bathroom, we went to the kitchen and enjoyed the rest of the night in easy, comfortable companionship, laughing and thriving in each other’s company until he said good night with a kiss on my forehead.
It had been the perfect night, one that I would never forget.
It took me another hour or so to fall asleep after that, unable and unwilling to allow myself to go to another dream world when this one suddenly felt so good.
Tonight, Jasper had shown me kindness, generosity, respect, patience, and encouragement—things I wasn’t used to experiencing but would now demand.
He was amazing, and I was forced to finally admit that I was falling in love with him.
It wasn’t only the thoughtfulness of the date, but the way he had paid attention, listened to me talk about what I loved, and then sat back in full enjoyment and watched as I did something that brought me joy. It was the encouragement, the acceptance.
Suddenly, I knew: I wasn’t going to let my fear stop me from being with Jasper. I knew that there was still a reasonable amount of doubt and questions around what happened with him and his mother, but I couldn’t believe he had anything to do with that.
I trusted him.