Page 21 of Wet Paint

Her mouth twisted with a conflicted smile. “You think I don’t know that?”

“I know you do. I also know that if someone found out…” I didn’t want to say it. She already knew. We both did.

But she just shrugged. “So what? People do stupid shit for love all the time.”

The word hit me like a sucker punch.

Love.

She didn’t say it lightly, and I knew it. She didn’t say it like it was casual or just part of the moment. It sat between us, heavy and real, even if she didn’t say ittome.

I didn’t respond right away. I just looked at her. At her messy paint-streaked hair, rosy cheeks, and that damn fire in her eyes. The one I couldn’t look away from. The one I’d chased in my own work for years and never quite found until her.

“Come on,” she said softly. “Let me show you the painting.”

She took my hand gently and led me into the studio. The door shut behind us with a quiet click, and I locked it just in case.

Inside, soft music was playing from the speakers, and the smell of paint and Ivy’s perfume lingered in the air. She guided me to her easel, then stepped aside to show me what she was working on.

The canvas was big. Taller than her. Almost as tall as me, and I was six-foot. A stormy sky blended into a rough water below, but the colors weren’t angry. They were full of ache. Extremely detailed and realistic raindrops were splattered all across the top part of the canvas. Deep violets blending into soft gray blues and flashes of ochre light burst at the horizon.

I stared at it, and she patiently waited for my reaction without saying a word.

“Ivy…” My voice came out low. “See, this is why I think you’re an exceptional artist.”

She gave me a smile. “Thank you, Will.”

I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, pulling her in front of me. She leaned back against me, placing her hands on my wrists as I wrapped my other arm around her shoulders too. I pressed a kiss to the top of her head while still looking at her unfinished painting. “You’ve only been working on this for a few days,” I stated, amazed.

“Yes, but this time I knew exactly what I wanted to paint. It came easy.”

“That’s good.” I smiled and tightened my arms around her. “Want to tell me about it?”

She nodded, then leaned her head back against my shoulder, her voice quiet and soft as she began.

“It reminds me of lazy, rainy Sundays. My favorite type of days. You know, when the world just slows down and makes you feel safe. Where there’s nothing to do, and nowhere to be, and all I want is to be curled up under a blanket with a cup of tea, some romcom movie on, and…someone I love beside me.”

I held my breath. There was that word again.

But she didn’t backtrack. Didn’t correct herself. She let me know that love is what she longed for. Maybe she didn’t even realize it, but that’s what she wanted. What she deserved.

She kept talking, her tone growing more thoughtful.

“When I painted the ocean, I didn’t want it to feel violent. I didn’t want the storm to look destructive. I wanted it to feel like…like it’s always been there. Like it’s part of the calm. You know?”

I nodded slowly, my chin brushing the top of her head. “Yeah. I see that now. And I can hear it, too.”

She turned her head and looked up at me, her eyes wide with surprise. “You do? That’s what I was thinking of when I painted these.” She pointed at the raindrops hitting the ocean’s surface. “I love the sound raindrops make when they hit a body of water.”

“You captured it all perfectly, Ivy. It’s amazing,” I complimented her, kissing the top of her head again. “Everything you said…I can feel it. See it.”

She turned in my arms, her eyes searching mine for something. Reassurance, maybe. Or recognition. She already had all of that, though.

“You’re in it,” she said, voice almost a whisper. “Not just in the colors. Not just in the feeling. You’re the reason I knew what to paint. I kept thinking about you. About that night inthe studio and everything I felt afterward. You made everything quiet for a little while. You made me feel…held.”

I clenched my jaw. My arms were around her waist now, her body tight against mine.

“You did the same for me, Ivy,” I said quietly. “You still do.”

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