Page 55 of Outside the Lines
“I love you so much.” She was my compass and my star. And so was Ian. “Let’s find some time when we can invite him over for dinner.”
“We can do that.” She slipped her fingers from mine. “Afteryou shower.”
I laughed and pushed back from the table. “Hint taken.”
“Wasn’t a hint, Simon Derry.” Humor there and love. So much love.
I was the luckiest man alive.
After my shower, I discovered Lydia had unpacked Ian’s dragon from its box and had set it on the marble countertop. Now she was pulling dishes from the dishwasher. “Isn’t that amazing?” I gestured at the sculpture.
“It really is. One of Ian’s?”
I nodded and grabbed a banana out of the basket on the island. “He wants me to paint it. Sort of a symbol of . . . us.” Saying those words left me giddy. Us.Ian.
“I’m guessing you haven’t a clue what color to use yet.”
I started in on the banana and contemplated the piece. “I’m not sure I can do it justice.”
A dish towel hit my chest. “You spent a week working on aWolf’s Landingprop. You’re a pro now.”
Maybe. That art director’s card was still on my nightstand upstairs. Lydia had urged me to call when I’d told her about it. See if they had any part-time gigs. Or weekends. Something.
But it would be weird working with Ian for real—not as a favor. Especially if he agreed to become a permanent part of our life.
Lydia crossed the kitchen. “Si . . .” She rubbed my arm.
“I got used to thinking of myself as a hobbyist. It’s a bit of a shock to find out I’ve got talent.”
“Talent and hobby aren’t opposites, you know.” She took the dish towel back. “Do I have less talent when I do fan art?”
“No!” I blew out a breath. “God, I know I’m being an idiot.”
“Good.” That was followed by a kiss. “Then stop it.”
I wrapped my arms around her and murmured against her lips. “You win.”
“I always do.”
Pretty much, but that was fine by me.
Two days later, I moved the dragon from the kitchen island to my workstation in the basement, where I wouldn’t see it every time I walked through the house.
Ian hadn’t called me back. Or replied to my texts.
I couldn’t catch a breath for the constriction in my chest. Had I been wrong about Ian wanting more? Had I done something? No way of knowing, short of showing up at his place—and I had long ago vowed never to be the clingy ex who did shit like that. Especially since I’d once had to fend off a fling who wouldn’t take no for an answer. Wasn’t about to do that to anyone else.
But Ian wasn’t a fling. Unless . . . unlessI’dbeen the fling. “Fuck.” I stomped back up the stairs from the basement and slammed the door.
Lydia jumped at the stove and Purrbody’s claws scraped against the tile as he took off for the stairs.
“Sorry.”
Lydia tapped her spoon against the pot and set it aside. Lines of worry ringed her eyes. “Give him some time. People can get spooked when relationships move fast. I don’t think he’d just . . . drop you.”
I had my doubts, and from the depth in Lydia’s voice, I knew she had hers too. “Yeah well, maybe I’m the wrong guy for him.” The married guy, good only for a few fucks, but nothing else. Moisture prickled at the back of my eyes. “It’s fine. I’ll live.”
Her fingers entwined between mine. “I know what I saw between you two. I’m sure he’ll call.”
