Page 45 of Secret Baby for Dr. Grump

“Oh. Do you want help with it?”

“No. I want to do my homework by myself. Mom says to ask for help if I’m confused, but I’m not confused.”

It’s another way of saying she’s independent, which amuses me as I follow her to a room that her mom made into her homework area. The small table is already littered with books, crayons, and the like. I watch Riley start coloring before I gingerly sit on the stool beside her.

Immediately, she giggles. “You’re too big for the chair, Luke.”

I grin. “It’s okay. I just want to watch you.”

She finishes coloring and starts on some math problems. I wait for her to ask for help. But she doesn’t. Realizing my presence might be a detriment more than anything, I carefully stand up and back away, then wander back to the living room.

Olivia’s still upstairs, where she excused herself to finish some laundry. After some hesitation, I go upstairs, intent on checking if she wants help—not that I expect it, since Riley’s independent streak definitely comes from her. I don’t find the laundry area, but I do find a half-open room with something colorful inside.

Curiosity pushes me forward to take a peek. Then my attention is snagged as I open the door further and step inside, where I’m bombarded with what can only be deemed as Olivia’s art room.

There are oil paintings on canvasses leaning against the walls. There are rough sketches and more intricate drawings taped on the higher parts of the walls, scattered in every inch that it feels like the room itself is art. My gaze lands on an oil painting of lush fields and a flower-filled meadow, with a thick forest in the distance and the sunset bathing everything with a warm orange glow.

“That’s the back view of the house we used to live in. We don’t get the sunset from that direction, so I painted what I thought it would look like there.”

I glance at Olivia standing by the doorway and observing me. I clear my throat.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

But she shrugs. “It’s fine. I never kept my art a secret from you.”

A warm but almost shy tinge to her voice tells me she’s open to questions but still hesitant. I carefully search my mind.

“Are these for personal view? Or are you selling them?”

“I have an online site for selling. I’ve sold quite a few pieces already, though not a lot.” She steps inside, too, and wanders around, her fingers pointing here and there. “Those are for sale. Those are samples to give people an idea of my art style in case they want to commission me. Those…they’re personal. They’re my private collection.”

The personal ones are the faces of Riley, herself, and others who must have been a part of her life in the past. I see an older woman who looks a lot like her, especially depicted around the well-drawn eyes and smile.

“This is fantastic. You’re really talented, Liv.”

“Thanks. I’m not kidding when I say it’s to relieve stress. But I suppose having the talent for it helps, too, since my hobby also has a reward.”

“And I’m not kidding when I say anyone would be lucky to have a piece of your artwork. Can I purchase that meadow one?”

Her eyes widen. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“For the pricing…”

“I’ll pay whatever you ask. It’s that good.”

She flushes, pleased with my comment. I can tell it means a lot to her, but I’m more honored that she’s allowing me to see this side of her so openly. It makes me want to reciprocate so badly, and an idea forms.

“We’ll discuss it more later. Are you and Riley free after she finishes her homework?”

Her brows furrow at my question, but she nods. “We might be. Why?”

“There’s somewhere I want to take you. To show you another side of me, too.”

“Luke, is this all yours?”

Riley is bug-eyed again as she takes in the large building and the sleek, modern lobby. To be honest, it’s such a common sight to me considering the number of times I’ve spent here, but seeing it from her view makes me giddy. And nervous.

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