Chapter 30 #2
Despite being certain Rafe wouldn’t laugh at me, the muscle memory of being mocked rears its ugly head, putting my body on high alert.
“Lina, tell me, it’s ok.”
I clear my throat, even though I speak to him with my mind, not my mouth.
‘I, uh… I like miniatures.’
“Miniatures?”
‘Yeah, I, uh, would craft and build miniatures and scenes. Paint them in my spare time and sell them in the market on my days off.’
I lock my muscles to stop from squirming even though my body begs me to run and hide.
“Like, villages and towns?”
‘Yeah. Little dolls houses, or flower shops, sometimes singular miniatures like mythical creatures. Some folk liked to buy them to take home and paint themselves. They’d come back sometimes to show me the end product.’
I can’t help but smile at that. The pride in their faces when they would show me their art. Taking something I crafted but breathed life and colour into it. Rafe pulls back from me, but I wrap my arm around his waist, keeping my face locked to his chest. He chuckles.
“Lina, that’s like the coolest thing.”
‘Shut up.’
“It is! That is unbelievably creative. Not everyone has such a creative streak like that. And you make it all by hand? With what? Wood?”
“Mhmm.” My body alights beneath his praise.
“Tell me more.”
‘Well, I had a mayor come and commissioned me to make a mock-up of their town.’
“Holy shit, that’s incredible.”
‘Ah, not really. I pulled out.’
“Why?”
‘He kept making a big deal about the time spent on a project. Guilting me. Breaking my concentration with constant interruptions, incompetence, and mockery. He made it so difficult for me to finish.’
My soul deflates at the opportunity I squandered.
‘In the end, I was so exhausted fighting him at every turn I sacked it.’
Rafe stays quiet for a moment before he whispers. “Lina, I’m sorry.”
I simply shrug a shoulder. It is what it is.
“I think you should finish the town and surprise the mayor one day.”
I laugh, pushing some hairs that fell into my face.
‘Rafe, that was many moons ago.’
“And? Either way I’m sure people would love it displayed in their town hall.”
I shrug again. He might have a point. Might.
“You should have your own workshop.”
‘Maybe. Anyway, tell me something equally embarrassing so I can stop sweating.’
Rafe snickers in my hair, placing a kiss so gentle it hits deep in my marrow. How does he make things feel so easy.
He pulls from me and stands; in nothing but white undershorts. I struggle to focus, his physique making it challenging. One hand rests on his hip, the other grips the back of his neck.
“When I told you I was bland, I wasn’t joking.”
He has no clue how untrue that statement is. Rafe is anything but bland.
“If you laugh,” he says, crouching to the floor, peaking beneath the bed frame, dragging out a large square box. “You have to star in Rafe’s naked cooking show.”
He winks and I can’t help the giggle exploding from my chest. He whips his head up, wide eyes, and I snap my mouth shut.
‘That laugh doesn’t count.’ I point a finger at him and realise I moved my lips as I said it. I press them flat together. One, to stop them moving and two, to stop myself from laughing at his passive face.
“Ok, so, when I have some downtime, or need to decompress, I like to, uh…”
His nervousness makes me want to melt as he rubs his palms on his thighs and pauses.
‘Spit it out, Rafe,’ I nod, giving him a big encouraging smile.
“Oh, it’s so lame, Lina,” he says, scrubbing a hand down his face.
The mattress groans as I wrap the bed sheet around me and step off to kneel on the floor beside him, wedging my nails beneath the lid of the large wooden box.
He allows me to take the plunge for him and open it.
If I had to face my embarrassing shit, so does he.
The lid bangs against the bed frame. Silences descends in the cabin, the chirps of hoppers and crickets outside float through the window. Heat from Rafe’s stare burns into the side of my face, his arm brushes mine, shocks zapping my body from the touch.
I think he stops breathing awaiting my response.
Emotion drowns me. My nose stings with an abundance of tears threatening to spill. I cover my mouth, not to hide any laughter, I would never, but to hide my wobbly chin.
“I want to die,” he whispers through a clenched jaw.
I find strength and remove my hands from my mouth, pushing my lips together to keep the wobble at bay.
‘You’re so fucking adorable.’ The words aren’t out of my head before tears trail over my cheeks.
“Gods, you’re crying.” Rafe hides his face in his hands. “My lame hobby made you cry.”
I grab them, pulling them away, forcing him to look at me.
‘I love puzzles, Rafe.’
His eyes alight, though a slight shadow of wariness flickers.
“You… do?”
I nod. A lot. I fucking love puzzles. A sniffled chuckle escapes my lips, I turn back to his collection.
The pieces glued down on brown, thin boards.
There’s about ten in here, and I reckon over a thousand pieces each, all keeping within the same theme of rustic towns and villages, store fronts, shacks and cabins.
They’re so pretty. The image of Rafe, this big hulking man with dark hair and an even darker gaze bent over his table, chewing his bottom lip as he searches for his next piece.
I imagine how his eyes would light up and that beautiful smile on his face when he would slot it in or complete the entire piece.
And how no one would be here to tell him well done.
“You gotta stop crying, you’re killing me here.”
I can’t. It’s, he, is just so godsdamned adorable.
Like pinch your cheeks cute. Protect him at all costs cute.
I yank him back down to the floor as he prepares to stand.
‘Why have you not put these up? They would look great on the walls.’
He shrugs, biting the inside of his cheek.
Damn, his moment of shyness is really making my heart thunder.
“I heard that.”
‘Shit, that was my inside inside voice.’
“Well, don’t forget I can hear your inside inside voice sometimes.” He chuckles, bopping me on the head and stands, squeezing the bridge of his nose as he fills a glass with amber. “As if I showed the woman of my dreams my fucking puzzle collection,” he mutters, shaking his head.
My heart that was thundering is now damn right exploding beneath his words.
‘Should that have been your inside inside voice too?’
The coiled muscle of his bare back stiffens. He necks the liquid, stalks over and pulls the lid down, using his foot to slide the box beneath the bed. He hooks an arm beneath my legs, hauls me to his chest and flops us back onto the mattress. A childlike squeal bursts from my throat.
“Shhh. No more puzzle talk. Bedtime now. Night, night.”
I hold back more chuckles, in case that means I have to be the next naked chef.
Though, perhaps, it wouldn’t be the worst thing.
We settle into comfortable silence, resuming our previous position, his arm wrapped tightly around me.
After such a heavy conversation, and getting to see another side of Rafe, my heart’s so full but so light, so free, like I can breathe, and I wonder if he truly understands just how him listening, being interested enough to ask questions, this moment with him, or how all our moments together make me feel.
How him showing me something which made him vulnerable will be one of my most treasured memories with him.
Blissful haziness creeps over me, my breaths steady as I nuzzle into his warmth some more, the fuzziness of sleep blanketing me, but not before I hear Rafe whisper into my hair when he thinks I’m sleeping.
Whispers something that makes me imagine a gleaming future I could have with him if I chose it. Something so full of colour, love and happiness. Something I envisioned when I was child itching to grow out of my orphanage.
“I’m going to build you a workshop.”