Chapter 47
Chapter forty-seven
Tom
The knock comes just as I'm sliding the last print into the archival sleeve.
I cross the apartment, open the door. Wren stands there holding a white paper bag stamped with pale green script, grinning.
"I come bearing gifts and unsolicited life advice," she says, brushing past me into the apartment.
She lifts the bag. I see the logo. "Is that banana pudding?"
"Yes it is."
"Did I ever tell you I love you?"
She laughs. "All the time."
I pull her into a quick hug. She walks past me, sets the bag on the counter, and glances around the apartment.
"I thought maybe having a girlfriend would've made you put more artwork up. That Monet's looking lonely."
My eyes betray me. They flick back to the desk.
Just for a fraction of a second, but it’s enough.
Wren is practically a predator when it comes to reading my tells.
She follows my line of sight, her eyes narrowing as she spots the framed photo of Sam at the ocean.
She walks over slowly, stops in front of the desk.
"Is that a picture you took of Sam?"
I nod.
"And you got it framed. And hung it up." She taps the glass, a slow, triumphant smile spreading across her face.
I rub the back of my neck. Don't answer.
"Thomas John Bennett. Are you blushing over a woman?"
"I'm not—"
"Oh you totally are."
"Wren—"
"You framed a photo. Of your girlfriend. And you're blushing about it."
"Can we just eat the pudding?"
"No. Absolutely not. We're talking about this."
She crosses back to the couch, drops onto the cushions, pulls the bag toward her, and opens it.
I grab two spoons from the drawer.
The smell of vanilla and caramel fills the room.
"So how's this working out? You know, with your whole 'I'm disappearing to the ends of the earth for three months' thing?"
"So far it's working."
"Tom. You've never done a relationship while doing your—" she makes air quotes with her fingers—"nomad photographer act. How is that actually working?"
"We're figuring it out." I keep my eyes on the bag between us
She's not buying it. She leans forward, spoon halfway to her mouth. "What about that South America project? The luxury hotel campaign you were excited about?"
"I turned it down."
Her eyebrows lift. "Why?"
"I didn't have time to prep. It overlapped too much with the final Harbor District presentation."
I pause. She's already smiling. She knows there's more.
I exhale. "You're just going to drag it out of me, so—yes. I also didn't want to be away from Sam."
"There it is." She points her spoon at me like she’s been waiting for that answer.
"We finally had some actual time together. Not just working. Just being together. And I don't know, it just didn't feel like a good time to be gone for three weeks."
Her expression softens. "You really like her, don't you?"
I look at the framed photo, then back at Wren. "Yeah. I really do."
"This doesn't feel like a 'for now' thing."
"No. It doesn't."
"So what does that mean? Are you turning down all the out-of-town work now?"
I scrape the spoon along the bottom of the cup.
"We've talked about it. Shorter jobs are fine. Longer ones—we'll figure it out when they come up. But right now? I just can't see being away from her. Not for any real length of time."
She leans back. "That's new."
I shrug. "I know."
"You've never done that before. For anyone."
I drag a hand through my hair. "I know."
She studies me for a second, quiet now. "Does she know how you feel?"
"I've been trying to show her."
"And?"
"I think she knows."
Wren stands, grabs her bag, walks to the door. She stops with her hand on the knob.
"Don't wait too long."
"I won't."
She grins. "Tom Bennett. Staying in one city. Framing photos. Showing Sam how you feel. Who are you?"
I shake my head, laughing. "I'm figuring that out, too."
She opens the door, pauses in the threshold. "I'm really glad you're happy, Tom."
"Yeah. Me too."
"When are you seeing her next?"
"Tonight. Soon, actually. We're grabbing dinner. Then probably just walking around."
"Walking around?"
"Yeah. We look at buildings. How the light changes on them as the sun sets. How the shadows shift."
Her smile widens. "Only you would call looking at buildings a date."
"Goodbye, sis."
She laughs as I close the door. "Bye—love you."
I look at the framed photo one more time.
Then I grab my coat and phone, and head out.
***
The sidewalk is quiet, the streetlights pooling orange every twenty feet. Sam's hand is warm in mine.
She stops.
"So. How do you feel about being a plus-one?"
I grin.
"Well, I like the idea of being your plus-one. But it depends on what the plus-one is for."
She stares at me. Mock horror.
She hits my arm lightly. "What—being with me isn't enough?"
I laugh. "It goes a long way."
She shakes her head, smiling. "You're the worst."
"So what's the event?"
"A wedding."
"Okay. I can work with that."
We start walking again. She bumps my shoulder with hers.
"Have you ever been to a wedding? Like, as a guest?"
I think. "No. I've shot weddings. Never attended one as someone's date."
"Really?"
"Really. You?"
"I've been to plenty. But never with someone I actually wanted to be there with."
"What does that mean?"
"It means I usually spend the whole night avoiding the 'When are you getting married?' questions."
I grin. "And now?"
"Now I'm hoping that showing up with you prevents those."
I stop walking. Mock offense.
"So you're using me as a shield?"
She smiles. "Well, that and someone to slow dance with."
I don't say anything. I just swing her around gently—right there on the sidewalk—and pull her into a slow dance hold.
One hand at her waist. The other holding hers. I pull her in close.
"Tom—"
But I don't let go. I lean in, my voice low near her ear.
"Other than taking that picture of you at the ocean, dancing with you at the gala was my other favorite moment from that scouting trip."
She goes still. Her fingers curl tighter around mine.
We're not moving anymore. Just standing there on the quiet corner. I feel the rise and fall of her breathing against my chest.
She tilts her head back slightly to look at me. Our faces are close.
"Tom..."
My hand shifts at her waist—just slightly—pulling her a fraction closer.
"I think about that night a lot."
My eyes drop to her mouth.
They stay there.
She lifts one hand and brushes her knuckles lightly along my jaw. Then she smiles. "We should probably keep walking."
My jaw tightens. I lean a little closer.
"I was thinking a very passionate kiss might be the right move."
I continue to close the distance
Then press a soft, quick kiss to her lips.
When I pull back, I look at her for a second. Then my eyes drop to her mouth again.
She lets out a small breath.
I raise an eyebrow—playful, but my voice stays low.
"But yeah. Walking is probably a good idea."
I release her waist. Slowly. But I keep hold of her hand.
For a second neither of us moves.
Then we start walking again.
Her fingers stay wrapped around mine. My thumb moves across the back of her hand. Once. Then again.
Neither of us says anything for half a block.