Page 72 of Why Not Us?

And my smile grows bigger. “That would be great.”

Dani bounces back to us after only a moment, grabbing my hand and leading me to the easel. We get into the lesson and I’m able to focus. We’re doing watercolours today and painting has always been my favourite art medium. I point out a few things for Dani to consider and she makes little adjustments. I have a photo from Ava of a vase of flowers that I’m using for this lesson. There are differences between the photo and the painting that is Dani’s original style.

The painting is half done when Nate calls a stop to our lesson for dinner.

“Can I keep working on it without you?” she asks after washing her hands and taking her seat next to Taylor, who came in part way through the lesson.

“Of course. We don’t need the easel back until September. You can work on any of our projects when I’m not here.”

“I wish I had an easel at Mom’s place,” Dani says.

As we eat dinner, Dani is quizzed on her spelling words. When we go around the table saying what our favourite thing about the day was, Dani again says painting with me, just like she always does when I’m here. I tell her mine was giving her a hug at the front door. She thinks it’s silly, but it’s completely true. I realize I love this little girl, and she makes my whole day brighter whenever I get to see her.

After dinner, Dani clears the table while Taylor loads the dishwasher. Then she takes Nate’s phone to call her mom, heading upstairs for the conversation.

I sit at the island and Nate goes to the kitchen, turning on the kettle.

“I wanted to ask a favour of you, actually,” he says as he waits for the water to boil.

“What’s that?” I ask.

He glances at the stairs, but there’s no sound of skipping footsteps on them. He lowers his voice and says, “Dani’s birthday is coming up in a few weeks. I’ve talked to Katie, and we were thinking of each getting her an easel. Maybe you could help me pick one out?”

He gives me my second cup of tea once the water is finished boiling, and I wrap my hands around the mug, letting the heat seep into my skin.

“Absolutely. We can do that next week if you want. But you probably don’t each need one. There are table top ones and she could bring it to both houses.”

He sits beside me, our eyes meeting and locking. I’m acutely conscious of the fact that we haven’t touched at all since Monday morning.

“I can go upstairs with Dani if you guys want some time alone,” Taylor says, breaking the moment.

I turn back around, taking a sip of my tea, which is far too hot, so I burn my tongue. “Damn,” I say, making Taylor laugh at me. I glare at him. “That was your fault,” I tell him.

He shrugs, getting the detergent into the dishwasher and turning it on. “So are you guys still doing thecomfort zonething now that you’re… you know.” He waggles his eyebrows.

I snort at his innuendo. “You’re not very subtle, are you?”

He grins. “Subtle like a jackhammer. That’s me.”

“Nothing’s changed,” Nate says. “She still wants me to take her out to do things she wouldn’t normally do.”

“But you’re…” Taylor trails off, casting a glance at the stairs and lowering his voice like Nate had done. “You’re together. Exclusive. Right?”

Nate and I look at each other, as though confirming, though we’ve already talked about it at length over the last few nights. “Yes,” I say, not taking my eyes off him. I hadn’t thought not being able to kiss him would be this difficult. But maybe that’s where the difficulty comes in. The fact that Ican’tkiss him. And I really want to.

“So shouldn’t you be doing thingsNatewouldn’t normally do as well?” Taylor asks. “You know. To keep it even.”

I turn back to Taylor. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“So what do you like to do, Adalie?” Taylor prods.

“I like going to the theatre. There’s this amazing improv place on Granville Island. And the Art Gallery. Obviously, I like to paint.” I gasp, turning toward Nate, my hand over his. “We could go to Bard on the Beach.”

Taylor laughs. “I can assure you, Nate has never been.”

“Isn’t that Shakespeare?” Nate asks. I can tell from his tone that he’s skeptical.

But he’s also staring at where my hand is touching his. He turns his around so our palms are touching now, weaving his fingers through mine. It’s such simple contact, but butterflies explode in my belly. I have to swallow before I can answer.

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