Chapter 19
GOLDEN SILENCE (CLEO)
Holden steps into the living room and freezes, shock painted on his face.
He squints at the window where my massive canvas has been set up, staring at the bedlam I’ve unleashed in his living room.
In my defense, it’s not my fault.
I mean, not totally.
I’ll own the tools. And the paints. And the brushes strewn around like it just rained an art store. But he doesn’t know how much work goes into a canvas this size.
As he tries to comprehend it, the look on his face cracks me up.
I’m laughing my head off, standing in the middle of my chaos. The corner of his mouth twitches.
“Don’t even. I can explain!” I say desperately.
“You’ve taken over our living room and turned it into… Fuck.”
“Well…” I put my hands on my hips as I scan the room again, my eyes narrowed as I try to see it from his perspective.
Okay, fine.
So maybe it looks like I’ve hijacked their space, but most of the craziness is controlled and focused around the nook by the large window.
What can I say? This room has the best light in the house, and a good artist never settles for less.
Also, there’s the fabric swatches lying across the seat. Little bits of inspiration I use to coordinate my colors on the huge, textured landscape we’ve been making. I won’t implicate Kit yet as my little helper.
So I stick my detail brush behind my ear and go to pick up the colorful material, packing them up neatly.
“Clee.” I love the way he growls my name, even when he’s annoyed.
“You’re fine. It’s all part of the process, my man.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means you offered space to help me make some progress on my latest project. I took you up on your generous offer.”
I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him. He grabs my waist with his big hands, pulling me against him.
For several long seconds, we melt together.
When I finally pull away, we’re nearly winded.
Is this really just week three of the hottest relationship of my life?
Situationship? Whatevership?
I can’t put a label on what we are. Especially after I told Holden to stop worrying and live in the moment.
It’s only fair I do the same thing. Just pretend we’re—
Together.
For now.
Ignore the aching certainty in my heart that the end is sooner than we think.
I smile up at him sleepily, and he smooths my hair back from my face.
“You’ve got paint in your hair,” he tells me.
“Yeah, it happens. I’ve got paint everywhere.” I sigh, pulling back just as I hear Kit sprinting downstairs.
The little girl’s energy always announces her, and I smile.
“Everywhere?” Holden growls against my ear.
“That wasn’t an invitation to find out.” Blushing, I swipe at his arm just as Kit barrels into the room.
“Whoa!” She stops.
“I have paint all over my clothes,” I say with as much dignity as I can muster. “And my hands. But not on any of your precious surfaces.”
I mean, probably.
“No plaster, either,” I say.
“Plaster?” Holden groans into his hand.
“Well, yeah. Kinda necessary for this. Come see.” I gesture to the canvas and nod at Kit.
I take his arm and beckon her forward, encouraging them to gather a few feet away from the enormous canvas.
The jewel-bright colors leap out like a window to another world, all warmth under the cool grey sky outside.
“Huh. Looks familiar. Where have I seen that pattern before?” Holden says knowingly from behind me.
I smile, knowing the Hera Egg’s glittering gems, gold, and navy blue inspired me.
“So pretty!” Kit reaches out, then glances back at me. “Can I touch it?”
“You can touch this part.” I tap the corner of the canvas that’s dried. “What do you think?”
She runs her small hand over the mountainous waves at the edge.
“They all feel different. Hard to tell just by looking, but it’s there,” Kit says, stroking the different textures. “The colors are amazing.”
“They turned out pretty. I wasn’t sure it would work until I found my rhythm,” I say with satisfaction, tapping the brush against my teeth as I think. “What else do you see in there?”
I wonder if she’ll notice.
I try not to smile and laugh as she pauses, scanning it in detail.
“…dragons? No way.” She turns to me.
I laugh.
A good textured art piece should behave like clouds. The viewer imagines whatever they want to in the swirling shapes and colors.
Honestly, I think that’s why they’re so popular, especially with the art deco lovers.
“Maybe a few, flying around like birds,” I say.
“What do you see? You made it, so you should have the final word,” Holden says gruffly. His knuckles brush gently down my spine.
A tiny gesture, but it nearly brings me to my knees.
God.
“Hmm.” I chew the end of my brush without thinking, and when I glance at Holden, he’s watching me intently. “I think I see cupped hands reaching out of the water.”
“Hands? What’s in them? The ocean? Sand?” Kit’s eyes search the canvas.
“Possibilities.”
“That’s not as fun.” I love her. The girl rolls her eyes at my vague answer and crouches by the colorful fabric I’ve piled in the corner in a box.
“I thought you stuck to 2D art these days?” Holden says over my shoulder.
“That’s my first love, sure, but it doesn’t sell too well beyond the occasional online commission. I bang the drum on social media, but it’s no moneymaker. But these?” I suck my teeth as I consider what it needs next. “These babies make rent money.”
“I like it,” he says.
Outside, the rain picks up, splattering the window. Holden slides his arm over my shoulders, tugging me into him, even with Kit right here.
I glance at him uncertainly.
He’s looking at me, but I can’t decipher that strange spark in his eyes. So many thoughts, swirling in the wind, and none of them are easy to read.
Even so, his embrace makes me tingle. Kit glances up at us and then turns back to the fabric, totally unimpressed.
She has to know something’s up. I can’t decide if I’m happy or terrified that she doesn’t tease us.
All that worry about what would happen when she saw us together dissolves into smoke. The warmth in my chest grows, fueled by the moment.
I never had this growing up, and now I can see the appeal.
Family.
And it goes to my head.
This messy room with my art and Kit’s fascination and Holden’s steady reassurance feels way too close to home. Who would’ve thought a man I couldn’t stand before could ever offer this.
Even if it’s all in my head—and I’m sure it is—I’ll take what he’s sharing for a little while longer.
I’ll smile at Kit and talk through all the interpretations of this canvas. I’ll let big daddy touch me in subtle, innocent ways that feel downright dirty.
While the munchkin pushes her face close to the piece until she’s just a few inches away, I rest my head on his shoulder.
And I sink into the moment where the ominous chill from outside feels like it’s a thousand miles away.
That night, Holden worships me again, this quiet ritual that rips me apart a little more every time.
It’s tender enough to ramp up the heartache in every pulse as he kisses me softly.
Then not so softly at all.
There’s something heavy on his mind. Something he says with every thrust, every groan, every unspoken word.
When we finish, I roll over in his arms to face him.
Breathless and sated—for now—I reach up to trace his face with my fingers. Rugged, manly features I’ve come to know so well.
I don’t know when he etched himself into my head like a patina on bronze.
The sharp angle of his jaw.
The hard planes of his face.
The line of his nose and the soft, sweet cruelty of his lips.
How can it feel like you’ve known a man for eternity when you barely know him at all?
But I can read him now, even when he doesn’t like it.
And when I don’t know what he’s holding inside, like now, I wait with bated breath.
“Hey, old man,” I whisper.
“Hey yourself, brat.” His mouth curls a little under my fingers.
“What’s going on in that brain?”
“Thinking how much I like the way you taste.”
I sigh, slipping closer so our legs are twined.
His arm curls around me protectively, and I kiss his beard. He’s given me a rash on my inner thighs, another way he marks me, and I adore it.
“Just sex? Nothing else?” I say.
“No?” He jokes, kissing the tip of my nose. “Woman, it’s never ‘just sex’ with you.”
I flush.
“You know what I mean. Tell me what’s on your mind.” I meet his gaze, and he looks away, frowning.
Bad sign.
My stomach drops.
“Holden, tell me.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Don’t give me that crap. It’s been on your face all evening since you got back, all through dinner. So talk to me. I’m right here.” I prop myself up on my elbows so he can’t look away.
Holden sits up and shifts back against the pillows, staring at his hands.
“My mind kept wandering to the damn egg. Don’t act surprised.”
“Again?” I frown. “Any new leads?”
I almost hate to ask, inviting unwanted trouble into paradise.
A shadow crosses his face.
“It’s not that, though of course I’m working on it. I can’t let those thieves go.” He sighs. “Just thinking what the hell happens after the egg. Have you thought about that, Clee? Your future?”
Oh. That’s not where I expected this to go.
“Um.” I look away, knowing he’s expecting some kind of mature, thoughtful answer I don’t have. “I mean… I haven’t given it a ton of thought. It’s been such an ordeal trying to find a place we can trust.”
“Yeah, but that’ll take a few more weeks. A couple months tops. What then? What will you do with your life once you’re home free?”
My frown deepens, trying to guess where he wants me to go with this. But he’s just watching me intently, his stern face tight without betraying emotions.
There’s lead in my belly as I search his handsome face.