Chapter 15 #3
“I haven’t seen only one of your pieces.
I’ve seen two.” Drea tried to think of what other piece she could be referring to, but was at a loss.
“That night at work by the printer. You did that watercolor design for The Well, which you never pitched.” Cassie gave a weak imitation of a stern expression.
“I—” Drea floundered, at a loss for words.
“Actually three,” Cassie interrupted her. At Drea’s confused expression, she continued, “The tugboat on the water.”
Right, she had forgotten about that one.
She hadn’t shown that painting to anyone and remembered being a little shocked she had let Cassie see it.
“I never intended,” Drea said, before cutting herself off again.
After Anna died, Drea painted it to cope with her grief.
Initially, it symbolized her helping Sam through those dark times, trying to see and move toward light in the future, but they actually exchanged roles during that period, Sam never knowing how much her strength to continue on kept Drea going as well.
In many ways, it reflected their entire friendship.
Always being there for each other, through thick and thin.
Drea’s heart felt heavy as she thought about how little time she and Sam had spent together outside of work since Sam met Ash.
The fact that she had shared the painting with Cassie and that she hadn’t judged was yet another thing that blew her mind where Cassie was concerned.
“Sorry, you never intended what?” Cassie asked.
Drea sorted through her thoughts to remember what she was going to say. “I never intended to pitch that design.”
Cassie held her gaze for a long moment, so Drea took a sip of wine as she waited. “Why is that?”
“Because I tried it at my last position. Didn’t go over well. So I decided to keep my art separate from my work.” She shrugged.
“But your art is your work.”
“No.” She shook her head. “Graphic design involves some artistic principles, but it’s definitely not my art.”
Cassie’s shoulders slumped. “Is that why you were so weird with Byron?”
“I was weird?”
“Weirder than normal, yes.”
Drea laughed.
Cassie shook her head as a blush appeared on her cheeks. “No, I mean, you’re not weird at all normally. You seemed resistant to the idea of using your painting for the marketing pieces.”
“Ah. Yeah, I didn’t realize you noticed that.”
“I notice a lot of things.” The heat in Cassie’s eyes was undeniable, and Drea felt they were both thinking of the other night.
Drea dropped her gaze and scooped up a spoonful of gumbo, needing a break from her thoughts. She let it warm her as the complexity of flavor hit every taste bud she had, finishing with a spicy kick.
Cassie continued. “Does it bother you that I think you’re talented and want other people to see what I see?”
Drea sat back and slowly twirled her wine glass on the table. “Bother me? No. It’s just not something I’m used to.”
“People thinking you’re talented?”
Drea grinned as her mind drifted to her other talents. Flirting was her default mode for avoiding tough conversations.
It didn’t work. “I meant at art,” Cassie quickly added.
Drea tilted her head to applaud the catch. “Talented wasn’t the primary descriptor. Or any descriptor.”
“What was?” Cassie asked with curiosity.
“Frivolous, a waste of time . . . disappointing, and so on.”
“Your parents?” Cassie’s voice was gentle.
“Yeah. They’re both doctors and into appearances.
Me going to art school . . .” She mentally flipped through the other parts of herself they had disapproved of—her style, her friends, her humor, her profession, and definitely her sexuality, or at least the way she utilized it.
“Actually, they pretty much disapprove of everything I am.”
“I’m sorry.” The sincerity in Cassie’s voice tugged at her heart.
She shrugged and sipped her wine, letting the alcohol numb the memories.
She hated talking about her family. Nothing was going to change that relationship now, and it definitely was never going to improve.
She just wanted to change the subject. “It is what it is. What about you? Were your parents supportive of your dreams?”
Cassie’s smile disappeared as if she’d seen a ghost.
Drea felt awful for being so insensitive. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You don’t have to answer that.”
Cassie pushed the hair off her forehead. “No, it’s fine. Really. Well, my dream was to be a ballet dancer.” She paused and waited for Drea’s response.
Drea raised her eyebrows. Images flashed through her mind of disciplined and regimented women wearing tights and tutus with their hair up in a bun. Whereas, Cassie. Well, Cassie was pretty far from that. “Wow, I didn’t expect that.” Cassie never ceased to surprise her.
“Yep, I get that a lot.” She laughed. “We went to a performance of The Nutcracker when I was six and I fell in love. I was so into it, though I didn’t have the height or much at all that people associate with ballerinas.
But my mom saw how much I wanted it and she took me to every practice and recital.
She made sure to get out of work whenever I had a performance. ”
Her whole face lit up when she talked about it. Drea tried to picture a young Cassie in a tutu, but she couldn’t quite envision it.
“I used to get really nervous before performances. My mom came backstage one time and saw me breathing heavy and starting to freak out. She held my hands and had me take a deep breath in and blow it out and by the third time, I was fine. The next day, she put a rubber band on my wrist and told me if I ever felt overwhelmed to hold onto it and breathe.” She glanced at her wrist. “When I was in college, I replaced it with a tattoo.”
“What does it say?”
Cassie pulled the sleeve of her sweater up and angled her wrist across the table so Drea could see.
Drea placed her hand underneath Cassie’s wrist to hold it steady.
Breathe was written in a delicate cursive across her fair skin.
So that was what Cassie had been doing at the Thanksgiving dinner and when she talked about her parents that night at her house.
It made Drea sad to realize she had felt so overwhelmed in those moments.
She couldn’t imagine how hard it must have been for Cassie to lose her mom at such a young age, especially being that close.
“Your mom sounds pretty amazing,” Drea said with a gentle smile as she released Cassie’s wrist.
Cassie smiled. “She was.”
Drea suddenly had a great idea. She did a quick search on her phone, then turned her attention back to Cassie, smiling.
Cassie must have seen something devious in Drea’s expression because she leaned back cautiously. “What?”
Drea tried to control the excitement in her voice. “Are you free on Saturday? There’s something I’d like to show you.”