Page 53 of Outside the Lines
In the end, I knew what I had to do.
I woke and found myself alone in my bed, and cold panic washed through me until I spotted Simon over by my fantasy sculptures. He’d put on his underwear, but nothing else. Lovely. I’d never tire of looking at him.
The smell of coffee filled the apartment, and I rolled onto my back to stare at the ceiling. Guilt gnawed at me. I’d gotten spooked by the empty bed, and yet I was about to walk away from the man I’d fallen for. But I didn’t know how else to do this. Simon had a full life. I wanted to be a significant part of it, not a side fling.
He must have heard or seen me moving—the drawback to a no-bedroom apartment. “Do you want some coffee?”
For someone I’d fucked into oblivion last night, he sounded way too chipper and awake. “Yeah.” I struggled to sitting, my head a mess and pain pounding against my temples. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have said I had a hangover.
Drunk on Simon. Hopefully, the coffee would help.
He handed me a mug and sat on the edge of the bed. “I didn’t want to wake you. But I needed some caffeine.”
I breathed in the aroma from the mug and took a sip. The headache remained, but it was fading. “It’s fine. My place is your place and all that.” My heart bled as I drank my coffee. “What time is it anyway?” There was a clock on the nightstand, but that would mean turning away from Simon, and I didn’t want to do that yet.
He glanced there for me. “Just after eight.”
Not too late. “I should get to the lot by ten. They do consider evening shoots and all, but I have a bunch of stuff I didn’t do while we were rebuilding the model.” Sounded reasonable. Normal.
I didn’t want to leave.
His smile was achingly beautiful, and I tried to write it into my bones.
“Enough time to get ready, then,” he said.
I nodded. “And drop you off.” It came out as a whisper.
He leaned down and kissed me. It was tender and kind. The kiss of a lover. “You know where to pick me up again.”
God, my heart.
His gaze drifted toward my sculptures. “I hope you didn’t mind me looking at your art.”
“Not at all.” That came out honest, and I followed it with a laugh. “I wish other people could see them.”
“We could help you with that . . .”
We. End o’ Earth. SimonandLydia. The offer tugged at me in so many ways. I’d love to sell the sculptures to people who’d care for them, but that would mean continuing on with Simon. To cover my confusion, I sipped my coffee and stared into its dark depths. “Let me think about it?”
He chuckled. “Of course. I don’t mean to be overeager. I’m like that with Lydia’s work, too.”
“She’s a pretty amazing artist.” A wonderful human too. Fuck.
“She is.” He breathed out the words like a man totally in love. But his expression didn’t change when he focused on me. “So are you.”
“Thanks.” I didn’t know what else to say. I wanted to tell him what was churning inside me, but that wouldn’t change a damn thing. “I should get my ass showered and dressed.”
He patted my leg and stood. “Let me get out of your way.”
I lingered in the shower longer than normal. Simon cared about me, that was obvious. I loved him—obvious as well. I wanted all that I couldn’t ask from him. A lifetime. A commitment. A home together. Hehadthose with someone else.
I’d known him exactly one week. That was far too soon to be this in love. I’d crash and burn. We’d both get hurt. Better to nip this off now. Cold turkey.
Nothing left to do. I got out, shaved, and dressed. Simon was over by the sculptures again, wearing the clothes he’d had on last night. He smiled as he handled a dragon I’d yet to paint. Such a simple expression, so honest.
“Would you like it? You can have it, if you want.” I’d give him the moon, if I could.
He looked up, both gratitude and shock written on his face. “I couldn’t.”
