Page 29 of Taking A Chance

“Yeah, but I’m single and it was no big deal,” Cora says.

“What does relationship status have to do with painting?” I ask.

Cora whips her head to look at me, seemingly surprised by my interjection. I’ve painted married women before.Doesn’t she believe me when I say I’m a professional?

“Well, nothing. I’m just saying maybe certain people would feel uncomfortable with it,” she says.

“What people?” Jensen asks.

“You,” Cora says, looking back at her brother as if it’s obvious.

“Why would I feel uncomfortable? I have a hot wife. I impregnated my hot wife. I don’t think Declan’s the type of man who’s going to hit on her,” he says, challenging his sister.

“Oh,” she says. “Well, I mean, it’s none of my business anyway.”

Her tone turns dismissive and I can’t quite tell why she’s so put off by the idea of me painting Harper.

“How long will you be staying?” I ask the couple.

“Three days,” Harper says. “Will that be long enough?”

“As long as you don’t mind some long sessions of sitting in the same spot?” I laugh, despite the fact that it’s true.

“As long as you don’t want me standing on one leg or holding something heavy above my head, I think I can manage.” Harper laughs.

“Good, it’s settled,” I say.

I turn toward Cora, who’s made herself busy with her food and I watch her shove a giant bite of mashed potatoes into her mouth. I know it’s not conventionally sexy, but something about a woman who’s comfortable enough in herself to eat freely the way she does is sexy. Most women take small, measured bites, careful not to be toounladylikeor whatever people call it.

As we leave the restaurant, Harper and Jensen are in front while I walk next to Cora behind them. We picked the place just around the corner from where we live for the sake of convenience, so it won’t take us long to get home.

I observe the couple in front of me, so at ease with each other. Harper rests her head on Jensen’s shoulder as they walk in step. Their hands are intertwined between them and it’s moments like this I envy couples. Most of the time, I’m fine alone. I even prefer it. But every now and then, someone to hold hands with would be nice.

I glance over at Cora and trail my eyes down her arm to her hand closest to me. She has long, delicate fingers and I briefly wonder if she’s ever played piano.

“Stop with the public displays of affection,” Cora yells as her brother and Harper lean in and kiss each other. “We get it, you’re in love.”

“You don’t approve of public affection?” I ask.

“Maybe if I had a boyfriend with which to also grope in public, I wouldn’t be so annoyed,” she says, half-laughing.

“Here, I’ll hold your hand.” I scoop her hand into mine, lacing my fingers between hers. Even with her long fingers, her hand is easily only half the size of mine.

Cora tries to pull from my grip. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Calm down, woman. It’s not a big deal.” I feel the tension in her hand slowly dissipate.This is weird, right? Why did I even do this?Sometimes I do things without considering how they look to the outside world and sometimes the results aren’t great. “Why do you suppose people like holding hands?”

Cora looks at me, and from the corner of my eye, I can’t read her expression. “I don’t know. I assume people enjoy the comfort in it.” Her shoulders lift and fall the smallest distance. A tiny shrug to accompany her thoughts.

“Do you feel comforted?” I ask, nodding down to our hands intertwined.

“I’m not sure,” she admits.

“Fair enough,” I say, and it’s true. Given the way things are between us, I’m not sure my presence does much by way of bringing peace to her.

“There are other positive emotions that come from affection. Comfort isn’t the only one,” she adds.

“Well, do you feel any of them?” I ask.

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