Page 76 of Until Tomorrow
“Morning,” she mumbled when she saw me.
“More like afternoon,” I corrected. I’d slept in until almost noon, and she’d overshot me by over an hour.
“Yay for Saturdays,” she said under her breath. “Coffee. Need coffee.”
“Already brewed and ready for you,” I told her. I watched her shuffle through the kitchen, grumbling at every obstacle along the way. Eva needed her sleep—religiously. Take away her sleep window or alter it and she turned into my grumpy gremlin. At least coffee helped. I found it adorable, but I also knew she wouldn’t hesitate to eat someone alive before she had her caffeine if she wanted to.
“Oh, that’s the stuff.” That loud sigh of hers made me chuckle. “How did you sleep?”
“Great.”And I had.Something about having her in my arms knocked me out. It was the first night in a long time where sleep came easily. “I found your napkins.”
“Oh, they’re nothing,” Eva dismissed.
“They’re amazing,” I said. “You should show these off.”
“I have to give those back to Rhett.” She slipped into one of the dining chairs as she clutched her coffee mug to her chest. “I found them when I went through his jacket.”
“I’m still keeping one,” I replied with a smile.
“It’s just a napkin.”
“It’s going in my office.”
“Logan!”
“I’m putting it on display.”
“It’s nothing special,” Eva insisted. “It’s just… doodles.”
“Honey, have you seen my doodles?” I asked. “My doodles look like how many different ways can I scratch my pen on a paper to make one of those stupid tornado-looking things. This? Honey, this is art! Really incredible art. Why did you ever stop?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged as she stared down at the napkins. “It’s not useful.”
Useful?I frowned.
“Honey, who the fuck cares if it’s useful?” I demanded, but she just shrugged once more. I grabbed a chair and dragged it next to hers. Sitting down, I took her hands. “Eva, you used to draw all the time. Your art used to be all over our house—”
“We grew up, Logan,” she cut me off. “That was nice, but we moved here, and that just doesn’t work here. Can you imagine if our home looked like that when your co-workers were here? It just doesn’t work, and that’s okay.”
“It’s not okay,” I insisted. I stared down at our interlocked fingers, realizing I was very much to blame for this. Inadvertently, I’d put Eva in a box without ever realizing it. “There’s that art store—”
“Logan, please, drop it.”
“No. Eva, this is your home—our home. It should represent you just as much as it does me—”
“Logan—”
“Eva—”
“Stop!” she exclaimed loudly. Her cheeks flushed with anger, and she pulled her hand away. “Just stop! I’m not that girl anymore. Sometimes, you just have to grow up and deal with it. This is our life, that doesn’t fit, and no further discussion is needed.”
I dropped it because arguing with Eva never did anyone any good. Instead, I just nodded. Her fingers dusted along my jawline, brushing over the thick growth I had.
“I like the beard,” Eva told me, her tone softer as she pointedly changed the topic. It was easier to just let it go.For now.Part of her journey was finding herself, and I truly believed in reconnecting her with her love for art.
“It’s growing on me,” I said. Her lips pressed together as she tried not to laugh. Unfortunately, it took me a solid ten seconds before I realized the pun in what I’d said. I chuckled before leaning forward to kiss her briefly. “I don’t feel like cooking. Would you let me take you out for alate lunch?”
“Let me shower first.” She kissed me once more. Grabbing her coffee, she left. I watched her go, my heart heavy in my chest. I picked up one of the napkins and ran my fingers over the ink.
