Page 36 of A Small Town Spring

I must have some kind of frozen look on my face, because she taps me on the shoulder as if she wants the attention of a wandering child.“You can do more portraits, can’t you?You’re a working artist.You can paint what you need to paint.”She says it like it’s not a question, and on this, I agree.I’ve never been the sort of artist who necessarily needs to be in the mood to paint.Working every day, whether I feel like it or not, is what’s gotten me to this point.Kingston’s portrait was an aberration—I couldn’t have stopped painting that one if I’d been handcuffed and could only hold a brush between my teeth.But normally I head to the studio like it’s an office, put in the hours, and do the work.

“Yes,” I agree firmly.“That I can do.”

“Good boy,” she says.“Toby, your life is about to change.You’re going to be very successful and you’re going to make more money in a month than you’ve probably seen in your life.It’s all going to be very magical and confusing.But you have me and Pete and Ivy and your boyfriend Kingston to help you.Now, let’s go have lunch.”

My mouth feels numb and I follow them to Pete’s car on autopilot.She’s going to represent me.My life already feels like it’s changing.And it’s so overwhelming I don’t think to correct her about Kingston being my boyfriend.It’s not until much later that I wonder where she got that idea in the first place.

Fall

Kingston

Eighteen

My August vacationwent by too fast, and going back to the city in September gave me back-to-school vibes.I saw less of Toby while I was chilling in Rosedale than I thought I might—once he signed the contract with Fernanda and the date of his show in New York was set for March he was suddenly in a frantic race to prepare.Seven months away sounds like a lot, but I work on a publishing calendar where seven months are merely a couple of blinks of an eye.

He’s working on new paintings, I know, but he won’t say what.We developed a routine over the summer, sharing the kitchen during breakfast hours, then he’d go to his studio at Ivy’s house, and I’d lounge around and read before heading to Pete and Jack’s to use their pool.In the afternoons, I would get some work done, keeping up with my clients and their projects, and moving forward on my plans for my agency.

I’m aiming to officially open January 1, which feels both so far away and like no time at all.

And I’ve mostly kept my feelings for Toby under wraps.I assumed living with the man would be the perfect chance to get up close and personal with his annoying habits and off-putting tendencies, which would aid me in getting over my inconvenient crush.Only problem—he doesn’t seem to have any flaws, unless you count doting on his cat.And the fact that he sees his ex-girlfriend of a decade all the freaking time.Am I jealous?I have no right to be anything when it comes to Toby.We’re friends, though, for sure now, and that’s not bad.

So I’ve been irrevocably ruined by seeing him shirtless more times than I can count.So he smells way too good for a man who spends his days around mildly toxic chemicals and barely remembers to do laundry.So his sleepy early morning smile makes my heart flip, and the way we stand next to each other in my kitchen and wash up after dinner together, talking about movies and art and books and our childhoods, makes me constantly wish that we were going to share the same bedroom after finishing up instead of going to our separate ones?—

Other than that, I’ve got my feelings on complete lockdown.

Right.

But now that I’m back to my regular routine in the city, I miss him more than I should.My apartment seems so empty and dull compared to the colors and the noise of the house Toby and I share.

I even miss the cat.

Work is good, at least.Three of my top choices were successfully wooed and all say they’re on board with the Kingston James Literary Agency.All I have to do is finalize the paperwork, find the perfect office space, and pull the trigger.

Easy peasy.

Early Octoberand it’s finally starting to feel like fall in the city, after a late-summer heatwave that kept us inside and out of the humidity.But today the air has a chilly snap to it and the trees in Central Park are getting with the program and donning their autumnal colors.I usually take the subway to the office, but today I walk, wanting to feel the cooler air and think.About Toby—big surprise.

He’s been at my place for over three months and so far he hasn’t mentioned finding anywhere else to live.I’ve never had a roommate for so long—usually when I offer to host people it’s for a few weeks, and I’m normally only there on weekends.This thing with Toby has been the most permanent cohabitation situation I’ve had since college, but I find myself anxious when I think about him moving out.The only rub is his workspace.He’s still going over to Ivy’s to paint since he hasn’t been able to find another space in Rosedale.

The relationship he has with Ivy is… confusing.Not that I don’t know plenty of exes who stayed friends with each other, but they seem closer than most.

Am I jealous—of course.Am I still reeling that they broke up at all—also yes.They seemed so comfortable with each other, like an old married couple.But perhaps that was the problem, or at least that’s what I gathered from the times Pete and Toby himself talked about it.I can relate—Sergio and I were like that, better as friends, not enough spark to keep things going.Sad, but it happens.

But in the last few months, I’ve had to remind myself more than once that just because he’s not with Ivy anymore, it doesn’t exactly make him available.And it definitely doesn’t make him interested in me.

I know he values our friendship.I know he appreciates having a place to live.But beyond that, thinking anything else could happen is asking for heartache.

I’m in town through Friday—want to get a drink?

I read the text before looking at the sender and my heart jumps at the idea that Toby could be in New York.He’d mentioned that he would probably be coming here to meet with the gallery curator in charge of mounting his show.Then I see the text is from Van, which makes more sense.Van’s home base is now Rosedale, but he’s frequently in the city, what with his acting jobs, auditions, and lately fine-tuning the play he wrote that’s in workshop.

I check my schedule and write back.

I’m meeting an editor for dinner tonight.Want to meet me at Da Capo after?

Definitely.See you there.

My meeting goes well—it looks like my client Reed Bennet’s first YA novel will find a home with our top choice of publishing houses—so I’m in a great mood when I arrive at Da Capo.Van’s already there at a two-person table in a dark corner.He’s nursing a beer, so I order a glass of wine on my way over.

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