Page 58 of I Wish I Would've Warned You

“It’s one of your better ones.” He stands and unlocks the gate, motioning for me to join him.

I show up with my notebook like it’s a shield, but we both know I didn’t come here to write.

I left dinner early to see him.

“Why would you ever drink and drive?” I ask. “Doesn’t seem like you.”

“It’s a long story.”

“But you admit that you did it?”

“That’s what I told the judge.”

I sigh. “Have you ever been drinking when you were driving me somewhere?”

“Never.”

“Have you ever?—”

“Stop.” He cuts me off, pulling me into his arms. “I’ll explain how the fuck that happened—how it never should’ve happened—but… just not now. I can only take so many surprises in a day.”

“Does that mean you don’t want me to tell you that Taylor got you a gift to prove how much you belong together?”

“Not exactly.” His lips curve into a smirk. “What is it?”

“A custom trunk for all your brushes.”

“That actually sounds nice.”

“She superglued photos of herself all over the top of it.”

“Don’t tell me anything else.”

I laugh, and he lets me go.

“Do you have a lot of orders to handle this week?”

“Not really, just four. Why?”

“I was hoping to cash in on your offer for a painting.”

“Sure,” he says. “What do you want?”

“Myself.”

“Okay.” He looks me up and down. “I can do the base sketch now if you sit on the window chaise.”

I take a few steps back until my knees hit the cushion, watching him pull out an extensive pencil collection.

He positions a stool in front of a blank easel, then looks at me like I’ve grown two heads.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“I’m waiting for you to get into the right position for me to paint you.”

“This is it.” I push my hair away from my forehead. “Should I lean back a bit further?”

“You should take off your clothes.”

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