Page 28 of Just Like Starting Over
And a show requires not just a gallery, and one interested in mounting said show, but an entire array of completed paintings. The only one I’d count belongs to Una, and it was finished more than fifteen years ago.
I open my mouth to argue, but I make the mistake of looking up. I meet Mike’s steady gaze, my heart skipping that he’s watching me and he smiles. Slowly. Just the way that always drove me wild. His eyes are so blue, his attention complete. It always made me feel like the only person in the world when he looked at me like this.
And when he speaks, his voice is low and thoughtful. “I remember how much you loved to paint. I remember watching you work. You would be so immersed in it, unaware of anything else. I remember admiring your concentration.” He drops his gaze but I feel his intensity.
My throat is tight, unable to even think of what he might want in exchange.
Mike carries on, his own voice husky. “Once there was something magical between us, Sylvia.” The way he says my name lights a spark inside me. If he’d whispered it, I’d be lost. “I’m sorry for all those things I said, but mostly for meaning them at the time. I’m sorry I destroyed it all with my jealousy. I would be honoured if you could give me another chance. I’d like to be friends again, out of respect for what once was. I know that forgiving a mistake doesn’t mean forgetting it ever happened, but maybe we could start again.”
Friends. I consider the array of art supplies, stalling for time, although I knew I’d give him whatever he asked. I don’t need a gift, as much as I love this one. An apology is wonderful, but I’ve already seen that it’s not even possible for me to maintain a barrier against Mike.
Besides the fact that I have no right to do that. I should think of Sierra, but to be honest, in this moment, I’m thinking about me. I’m remembering the hole in my life when I couldn’t call to share something with Mike, when I couldn’t count on him to just loom up behind me and rest his hand on my back. Protective. Reliable. A rock. I’d really love to have that again.
Even if there can’t be romance, he’d be a wonderful friend.
I nod, then meet his gaze, realizing that he’s been waiting for my reply, that he’d wait all day for it. I smile. “I’d like that, Mike,” I say softly and watch relief flood his expression.
For a heartbeat, I think he’s going to sweep me up and kiss me, hold me off the ground and make me dizzywith his touch all over again, but he stops himself. He takes a step back, his gaze clinging to mine, and pushes a hand through his hair.
“Good,” he says, then smiles crookedly so that my heart goes thump. “Good.”
I offer my hand and his smile broadens. “Here’s to new beginnings.”
“God, yes,” he says, his words so heartfelt that I end up smiling, too. Then his hand closes over mine, warm and strong, engulfing my fingers and I feel him temper his grip. We shake, solemnly, then he exhales. He beams down at me and his words are rough, heartfelt. “Thank you, Sylvia.”
“Thank you, Mike.”
We might have stood there forever, lost in each other’s eyes, my hand lost in his, but Merrie clears her throat pointedly.
“Is this détente then?” she asks.
More like surrender, but I don’t admit that out loud. “Yes.”
“And a joint venture,” Mike says to my surprise. “I understand there’s talk of a greenhouse on the roof.”
Merrie and I exchange a glance. There was some pie-in-the-sky talk the previous weekend, when we were punch-drunk on the success of the opening, but it went no further.
Mike continues. “I’ve promised to teach Sierra about greenhouse growing.”
The penny drops. Sierra did say it would make a cool project for her but I didn’t think anything of it at the time.
“We were just tossing around possibilities,” I say.
“It sounds like a solid idea to me,” Mike says. “You could grow a lot of herbs in a small space, and the sunlight on this roof would be great. Sierra is certainly enthused.”
Merrie gives me a hard nudge from behind. “She is,” she agrees. “I think it’s good for kids to have projects and goals.”
“Absolutely,” Mike agrees. “So, I made a call and a friend of mine can give us a tour of his greenhouse tomorrow afternoon,if you’re up for it. Sierra can ask all the questions she wants and you can get a better idea of feasibility.”
“But you run greenhouses of your own,” Merrie says with a frown. “Why go to someone else’s?
“Well, I can’t take guests into our facilities, not when we’re in peak seasonal production.”
“Why not?” Merrie demands.
“We have to avoid the introduction of biological variables.”
Merrie snorts. “I’m not going to spit on your crummy tomatoes.”
