Page 38 of No More Love Songs

He arches a daring brow at me. “Want to ask me where my sports paraphernalia is next? Or maybe you want to inquire about my secret stash of playboys?”

Now it’s my turn make a face at him. “Really? You’re going to claim you don’t have any of those?”

“With a daughter in my house who still wanders in my room like it’s half hers and won’t hesitate to go through my stuff in search of scissors, hair ties, change or whatever random thing she can’t find in the rest of the house, and thinks must be in my room somewhere?”

“Fair point.” Slowly, I start to peel my eyes away from the décor, but it’s not easy. Between the blue ombre accent wall, the crisp white bedding covered in a mismatched mix of earthy colored throw pillows and the simple but beautiful pine furniture, I’m struggling to abandon my desire to look at everything more closely. Like the painting hanging over his dresser. And the extensive collection of vinyl records lining the shelves along the back wall. Or stool and guitar in the corner, a play and write music corner if I ever saw one.

“Go ahead,” he says, leaning into the doorframe leading to his adjoining bathroom.

“Go ahead?” I feign ignorance. I have a pretty good idea what he means though.

“Go ahead and ask all your nosey inappropriate questions.”

Yeah, that’s essentially what I expected him to say. I’m not offended. I’m kind of relieved, to be honest. “Did you pick the pillows?”

“Ari did. We used to have story time in here when she was little and for a while, she needed a new pillow with every new book I bought her.”

I eye the pile. “In that case, I’m surprised it’s not bigger.”

He grins. “When I saw things spinning out of control, I got the kid a library card.”

“Good call.” My eyes move on to the painting. “And this?”

“Ari. Finger paints. I went on a kick refurbishing old furniture when she was around five. Paints and giant canvases kept her busy with her own projects while I was working on mine.” He points at his daughter’s masterpiece hanging on the wall. “She wrote dad in that one.”

I tilt my head sideways looking for it. “She did.” Once you see it it’s impossible not to. It’s equally impossible not to smile at the sight.

“Come on, I know you got more.”

“Did you paint the wall?” I ask.

“I did.” He nods. “Ari found something on the internet. She wanted me to do her whole room like this but in purple and pinks, like a sunset. I tried it out in here before I did hers.” He shrugs. “I figured I’d just paint over it at some point, but I dug it when it was done, so I kept it.”

The more he says, the more everything about the space makes sense. The more I understand why it all feels like him too, why it felt that way even before it seemed like it ought to. There’s just one more thing I need to know. “When I’m dry can I come back and look at your records?”

“Yes.” He nods at the record player sitting among the collection. “You’re welcome to play them as well.”

I don’t ask about the song-writing corner. I have a feeling I’ll be in it soon enough with my own guitar in hand. “Then I think I’m ready for those towels now.” I smile broadly. It’s possible I’m nearly dry already, but we’ve come this far, might as well see it through.

He steps into his bathroom and returns moments later holding two towels, scrunched up between his hands. “They’re fresh out of the dryer, swear. Just haven’t folded them yet.”

I give him a skeptical look as I take the bundle and give it a hesitant whiff. They smell of lavender.

“Okay, I believe you.” I tip my head graciously. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

We both just stand here for a moment, neither of us saying anything. When one of us finally breaks the silence, it’s him.

“I’ve noticed, by the way.”

“Noticed what?”

“You know.” He smiles, but it’s subdued and almost shy compared to his usually bold grin. His eyes stay locked on mine, and I can see them tell me things I don’t dare put into words. So, I don’t.

I just let him lead me out of his room and back out to the lodge where I make use of an excuse to get dry - something I think we both know I’ve been for while - and take off.

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