Page 146 of Sweet Caroline
“Oh, very clever.” She rolls her eyes, then kisses me like she can’t help it. “But seriously. You’re everything. Everything I didn’t know I wanted. Needed. And you were right, I had no idea what I was missing—and not just with sex.”
“Neither did I.”
Her gaze falls from mine, a delicate smile on her lips.
“Caroline, seriously, you…” I exhale hard, trying to steady my emotions, then brush the hair back from her cheek. “You make my brain quiet.”
She looks up and runs her thumb over the cleft of my chin. “That’s a good thing, right?”
“Best feeling in the world.”
33
CAROLINE
I’ve always loved this painting; three little girls running through a Middle Eastern marketplace. They’re young—that innocent, oblivious age before you develop any awareness of how others might perceive you. Before you start nipping away at those rougher edges, checking yourself to fit in. When you can run—laughing, heart hammering, limbs flailing—simply because it feels good.
That messy joy is beautiful.
The colorful contemporary piece by Faizal Baban used to hang above Grandpa’s bed at the house. He said it was his favorite because the girls reminded him of me and my cousins when we were small. But his move into Lennox Seniors Lodge last week meant downsizing. When I suggested donating it to the art show, he’d been delighted. Ever the practical thinker, he simply wanted to find it a new, loving home.
I’d first proposed the charity art show back in October, but the real light-bulb moment had come when Sunny mentioned wanting to collaborate with a few smaller galleries in the city. Not only had I convinced her and Julian to invite a handful of the young localartists I’ve been watching to donate a piece, but we’d partnered with Found Family to promote its youth art programs. Pulling it off before Christmas was a realteamwork-makes-the-dream-workfeat: Adrian had performed a miracle by finding a Seattle hotel with space for the event, Sunny and I had organized the artist contributions, and Ada had even persuaded some of the teens in her program to contribute pieces. It’s been incredible to see how proud they are of their work.
Absentmindedly playing with my necklace, I move to inspect the next piece. Pen and ink over splotchy watercolor, it depicts a teenage boy with a ball cap on backward—sort of a bust viewed from behind. I lean in to read the tag; it’s by one of the youth in Ada’s group: Rolando Esposito, age fifteen. He’s good. His hat reminds me a little of Miles.
I slowly drift over to the next painting, but I barely have time to take it in before Miles comes up behind me and slips a palm over my right hip, warming my skin through the fabric of my ruby shift dress. He dips down to kiss my cheek. “Hey.”
“I was just thinking about you,” I say, half turning toward him.
“Good.” He draws in close, pressing against my back in a way that makes me close my eyes to drink in the sensation. I have to remind myself to focus on the art in front of us. It’s a surrealist piece: a woman hovering above a collection of outstretched, claw-like hands. She’s positioned in a deep backbend, and an explosion of color erupts from her abdomen and ripples outward. I peek at the small card on the wall. “Jesse’s Girl.”
“Oh, this is Ada’s piece!” I say, grabbing the arm Miles has wrapped around my waist.
“Man, Ada’s fucking killing it.” Adrian’s familiar voice comes from over my shoulder.
“Hey!” Stepping out of Miles’ arms, I twist around to pull Adrian into a tight hug. “And seriously, yes, she’s incredible.”
“I had no idea how good she’d gotten.”
The three of us turn back to admire Ada’s work for another beat before Adrian breaks the silence. “Anyway, Care, I have fucking incredible news.”
“What?” I ask, brightening as I turn to him again.
“Guess who just secured a substantial new donor?” He points both thumbs at his chest, then adds, “Well, for next year, anyway.”
“What? Shut up!” I break out in a wide grin. “Who is it?”
“Uh, this older Lennox couple? Charles and Carol Faulkner. They run this bed-and-breakfast where my buddy, Kai, got married last summer. I guess their kids are grown and they wanted to do something for youth. That woman ischatty. Talked my ear off for ages. Shemighthave been flirting with me.”
I laugh. “You think everyone’s flirting with you.”
“Must be a relief,” Miles says, then rushes to add, “The donation part, I mean.”
“Seriously.” Adrian’s eyes widen and he nods. “Anyway, I gotta do the rounds. I left Casey with Marcus and Renee, and I wanna catch up with them.”
“Yeah, yeah, go. Do your thing,” I rush to say, then grab his arm. “Wait, Casey? As in big, sexy puppy Casey? I thought?—”
“Yeah, well, things might have changed,” Adrian says, with an almost coy little half shrug. “I’ll tell you more later.”
