Page 71 of The Bad Boy's Homecoming
He’d made his way across the kitchen like a thirsty man in search of water, with the promise of what he needed close by.He leaned down and kissed his grandmother’s cheek.
“Don’t you go starting something you don’t plan to finish,” Gran said, poking his chest.But a smile pulled at her lips.
“I won’t.I promise.”
“Good boy.”She patted his cheek.
There was a knock at the door.“That’ll be my date.Don’t wait up.”
“Date?”
But then she was off toward the front door and calling out to Missy.
“Missy honey, I’m leaving on my date.Levi is here and he’s going to make you dinner.So you’ll have to at least speak to him long enough to eat,” Gran called over her shoulder.Then she opened the front door and was gone.
Levi spun toward the studio to find Missy standing in a rumpled white men’s business shirt, with paint stains.Baggy jeans with rips in them, paint on her cheek, the afternoon sunlight pouring in, and looking like an ethereal modern goddess.
She stood holding her paint palette with her injured hand and a brush in the other.
“Hi,” he said, unable to think of anything more creative.
“Your grandmother didn’t mention you were going to return today,” she said.
“I asked her not to, because I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”
She just nodded.
“Did you see my interviews?”
“No, I’ve been busy,” she said.
But her lips twitched and if he had to guess, he’d say she was lying.
“The baby wasn’t mine.I apologized to Maddox.I signed with Tampa.”
She just nodded and fiddled with the paint drying on her palette.
“I’m sorry it took me so long to come back.We still have that conversation to finish.”
Missy shook her head.“I don’t have any time for conversations.”
He took a step closer, now standing in the threshold of the art studio, still holding the fluffy bouquet of pink and white hydrangeas.
“I heard you have an exhibit in a few weeks.”
He could see the piece she was working on was moody, with pinks and tan, and a small section of burnt orange.Like a fire was starting where two bodies melded together.Looking at the gallery wall, he wasn’t surprised to find a dozen more paintings since he’d left.Each one more interesting than the last.
“These are stunning,” he said.
“Thank you, I’m not sure any of them will work but we’ll see.The gallery curator will be the judge.”
“Work in what way?”
“The gallery needs at least twenty pieces for the exhibit, ideally more.And they all have to flow in some way.”
“I’m sure all of these will work fine.”He turned back toward her.“I missed you.”He held out the flowers and took two more steps toward her.
“I didn’t think you were coming back,” she said, setting down her brush and paints.
