Chapter 11
ELEVEN
Seven years ago―December
Backdropped by the snow-covered Bow Bridge, William stood between two French easels, rubbing his hands together. “It’s too cold out here,” he complained.
Lizzy rolled her eyes and chuckled. “It’s only forty degrees. Sheesh, you tough New Yorkers are winter wimps. You haven’t experienced seven months of Wyoming snow and ten-degree cold that’ll freeze your balls off in thirty seconds.”
“I agree. I’m a pussy. Let’s go home.”
Home. It wasn’t hers, but one might think she’d moved in. “Babe, you have to put yourself out there if you want to be inspired. Trust me on this. You’ll never daydream in front of a blank canvas again.”
He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into him, snuggling his face into her neck. “You inspire me, and I can paint you, all toasty warm, in my apartment.”
Wiggling from his embrace, she ran to the snow drift. “If you want to paint the cold, you must feel the cold,” she laughed, hurling a snowball at his chest.
A chase along the shoreline ensued, kicking up fresh snow and lobbing snowball after snowball at each other. Their laughter carried into the crisp air as several skaters on the frozen lake watched. Finally, he caught her, tackling her down into a snowbank on the hill.
She squealed, fighting to get up but he wouldn’t let her. Rolling to his back, he pinned her within his embrace against his chest.
Rosy cheeks and panting, chilled breath made him look so adorable.
“I don’t want to paint, Professor Bennet. Not today. Let’s go ice skating.”
“We can skate all day tomorrow if you want, but today, I’m going to help you experiment outside your comfort zone. Trust me, you’ll love working with a palette knife impasto technique for your entry.”
“I have to work tomorrow.” Kissing her, he moaned. “Today, I’ll paint your lips with my tongue—inside my apartment, then I’ll practice my entry.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I guarantee you it’ll be award-winning.”
She giggled. “You’re not cooperating, perv boy. Be serious.”
“Oh, I’m an eager student and will cooperate over Chinese food—naked. How about an anatomy tutorial? You can be my model.”
“Been there, done that. Today is a snow day, and you are going to paint the bridge.” She kissed his chilled nose. “Then we’ll go home and have Chinese food—naked.”
He grinned. Honestly, he was so easy—and insatiable.
She didn’t mind; her needs and desires matched his.
In fact, she absolutely enjoyed his tutorials in that area of expertise, but as a couple, they were so much more than chemistry and sex.
They had fun together and felt completely at home with each other.
She could talk to him for hours on any random subject, and they both respected their individual opinions and beliefs; however, they shared the same overall views.
Tickling her waist, he joked, making sexual food puns.
Of course, she wasn’t affronted and matched his cleverness with some very naughty ones of her own. He was a cunning linguist in more ways than one.
Frozen to the bone, she and William sat in the Dakota apartment’s living room, warming up with a cup of hot cocoa before hopping in a cab downtown to his condo.
It was the first time she’d been to his family’s home a few blocks from the park.
Her gaze darted to every detail of the impressive hand-tooled millwork and rich paneling.
The size of the apartment and the decor were made all the more arresting by the elegant Christmas decorations and Anne Darcy’s artwork in the entry hall and above the massive fireplace.
She knew the Dakota was the residence of movers and shakers in Hollywood and business but didn’t expect the preserved Old World history within.
She tried not to look as uncomfortable as William had when arriving at Wild Bill’s, but he knew her well, offering a wink and smile.
Their upbringings were so different, yet .
.. it didn’t matter in the least to either of them.
She felt more connected to the Darcy family than she ever had to her own family.
Rightfully so, William was proud of his first attempt at painting with impasto and a knife, and insisted on showing his mother, probably needing to hear her professional opinion and likely affirmation.
For all the amazing strengths her lover possessed, self-doubt and insecurity unfathomably reigned supreme in his psyche.
She learned that, like her mother, his father had implanted the traits.
William rarely spoke of the man on a personal level, but one night in one of their bedtime whisper sessions, he opened his heart about his father’s crushing expectations, then praised him for his business acumen and how he was a “financial genius.” She could relate, having referred to her mother as “a sociopathic acrobat” and how dealing with her felt like mental gymnastics.
Perhaps their shared brokenness bonded them but certainly did not define them.
They were both survivors in their own way, and both were trying to gain a foothold on what they, as individuals, wanted in life.
Grinning, her beloved mentor walked into the room, but the smile looked forced.
Anne appeared wan and worn-down despite wearing a snuggly, coral turtleneck sweater, a color which would otherwise have suited her complexion beautifully.
Following the Thanksgiving break, Anne had not quite rebounded to her usual self and had begun teaching her classes from a seated position rather than her usual walking critique.
Something was off, but there was a flu-thing going around, so she tried not to read too much into it.
Still, if the moment presented, she’d ask William about it. Better yet, she would ask Anne.
“Oh, this is a lovely surprise! You two look positively glowing.”
“It’s freezing out there,” he said.
“I think it’s more than that,” Anne said, with a knowing smile. “What’s this?” she asked referring to the back of a canvas leaning against the side of the desk.
William walked to the painting. “It’s my first attempt, and instead of submitting it to the Manhattan Art League’s juried show, I ... think you should hang it. It’s for you.”
Anne looked to her grinning face, then raised an eyebrow. “You’re painting, William?”
“Yeah, sorta. Lizzy taught me how to wield a palette knife, and I really enjoyed working with the medium. There will be others, but I thought you’d want to immortalize this one beside my turkey finger drawing hanging in your studio.” He chuckled.
“We used acrylic and added a gel so it would dry faster, but it might still be a little tacky,” she added.
He handed his mother the winterscape, then shyly said, “Maybe it’s crap. I don’t know. What do you think?”
“Darling! This is wonderful. You must submit it.”
“You don’t want it?”
“I didn’t say that. It’s spectacular.”
“I made him paint it in person. He froze his butt off, but ... in my inexperienced opinion ... I think it helped to draw out his natural talent. William really captured the cold, and the media was perfectly suited.”
“You’ve been paying attention in class,” Anne joked.
“I finally have a professor worth paying attention to,” she replied.
“So do I,” William said, looking down at her. “Not that you’re not a great teacher, Mom, but Lizzy ... has a way of coaxing the best out of me.” He winked then tenderly smiled. There was no mistaking the love in his eyes.
“Yes, she does.” Again, Anne smiled, but this one felt genuine. She was obviously pleased her matchmaking had paid off and for that, she’d be forever grateful.