Page 69 of Outside the Lines
“I’m not exactly known for rational reactions, as you guys found out, but I’ve learned the nuclear option is usually the worst.” I peeled open the top box. Mushroom and olive. “Oh my God, how’d you know this was my favorite?” I took two slices.
Simon had this weird expression as he watched me chow down. “I didn’t.”
“It’s my favorite.” Lydia smirked.
Apparently, we had pizza in common. “You have good taste,” I said between bites.
We ate and drank in silence for a while and I kept staring at the T-shirt. Unfair. So very unfair. If people knew it was Lydia’s work, she’d probably get a lot of commissions. Maybe better freelance work. Hell, with the Wolf’s Landing clout, she might be able to draw for one of the major studios. “Therehasto be a way to contact the people in charge of licensing.”
She shrugged, and it had all the motions of dejection. “I may let it go.” Tears pricked her eyes. “Stop doing fan art.”
Simon creased his brow and looked over at me, his helplessness radiating across the table.
I cleaned my fingers on a napkin. “Lyds. You gotta do what’s right for you . . . but maybe wait on all that? We’ll figure something out.”
She nodded absently, then pushed back from the table. “I . . . think I’m gonna head upstairs. Sorry to be a downer.” With that, she rose and left.
Simon rubbed his face. “I should go make sure she’s okay.”
Totally understood that, so I shooed him in the direction of the stairs. “I’ll clean up.”
Simon stood and followed after Lydia and my heart went with him. These people—I loved them both. My breath caught.
“Si?”
He stopped at the doorway.
Tell her I love her.“Tell her I care, too.”
A smile that melted me from the inside. “She knows. But I’ll tell her again.”
I didn’t expect the punch to my stomach or the dizziness that lasted as Simon headed upstairs. I sorted through the leftover pizza, putting it all into one box and stuffing it in the fridge. Dishes went into the dishwasher.
So very domestic. Normal. Loving. Nothing like I ever expected this relationship to be. If there were any silver lining to the storm cloud of Lydia’s stolen artwork, it was that I’d found a place deep in their lives at the same time, though I didn’t understand the pressure in my heart and head for Lydia. I didn’t want her—not like I wanted Simon. I craved his touch and body and moans along with the quiet moments and the dinners and texts.
But like with Simon, I desperately wanted Lydia happy. My soul broke to see her so fucking torn up. I wanted her smile and laughter. The light in her eyes to be there again. For this all to be fixed.
I leaned into the counter and closed my eyes. We were all hurting.
Simon didn’t walk lightly, so his thumps down the stairs announced his return, and I gathered my thoughts. I was trying to pull myself together when he wrapped his arms around me from behind.
“Hey.” Warm breath against my ear and he kissed my neck. “Thanks for everything. You’ve been so understanding. You didn’t sign up for this, after all.”
I turned in his arms and pulled him into a kiss, needing his touch to chase away the sadness, if only for a moment. His hair was soft under my fingers. “But Ididsign up for this. You two. Us three.” That was the point of the conversation we’d had last week. “What good am I as your boyfriend and Lydia’s friend, if I’m not here for you both?”
“I’m so glad you walked into my store.” He hugged me tighter. “Because I don’t know how to make things better. I want her to fight.”
“But she doesn’t want to right now.”
“Yeah.” The word came out airy and sad. “And I think if you weren’t here, I’d be a much crappier husband.” He pulled back and took my hand, drawing me out of the kitchen and into the living room.
“It’s really fucked up.” I sank onto the sofa. “Someone taking her drawings and passing them off as their own. Did they think she wouldn’t find out?” Fandom was a tiny community. Even when the shirts were local exclusives—some merchandise was—word got passed around. People bought extra everything on their trips to Bluewater Bay and sold stuff online.
“Probably. Which is weird.” Simon sat down and I curled up next to him.
“Maybe the thief isn’t well connected?”
“Or they’re clueless.”
