Page 45 of Stuck with the Grump

It made me realize that I didn’t truly have a home. Not the way other people did. I had multiple properties with beds waiting for me but all of them were cold and impersonal. I spent so little time in the houses that I had hired people to decorate.

The only room in my life I had decorated myself was my office.

“What’s going on in your head?” Leigh asked, her hand clasping mine. “You look like your mind is going a mile a minute.”

“I don’t have anywhere I call home. I have places to sleep but none of them feel like home.”

Leigh gave me a half-smile as I parked the car and we got out. Colorful leaves were blowing in the breeze, swirling around in circles before piling up against curbs. People were wrapped in heavy sweaters and scarves, walking around as an autumn chill blew.

“That’s an odd thing to be thinking about,” she said as she fell in step beside me. “What brought that line of overthinking on?”

“Once I’ve finished going through the files, I’ll be going back to a house I didn’t even decorate. I couldn’t care enough about where I was living that I don’t even remember picking out any of the cutlery. I didn’t need to. I could pay someone for that, so I did.”

“Kind of seems a little lonely, if you ask me,” she said, reaching out to take my hand. Her fingers twined with mine, her hand giving me a small squeeze. “Why didn’t you care?”

“I used to spend more time at my office than I care to admit. A lot more time. I don’t think I was home more than a couple hours for sleep before I was back in my office and taking care of more business.”

“And look at where that’s gotten you,” Leigh said, holding open the door to the coffee shop. “You’ve built a billion-dollar empire. You’ve done a lot to give back to communities across the world. You’re a good man.”

I shrugged, approaching the counter and scanning the menu that hung on the wall. The scent of freshly roasted coffee beans filled the little shop. People were sitting at tables around the room, their conversations a dull hum in the background. I wrapped my arm around Leigh’s waist, pulling her to my side before dropping a kiss on top of her head.

“A chocolate croissant and a large cappuccino, please,” Leigh said to the teenager behind the counter.

“Double that, please,” I said, looking around the room for an empty table.

The cashier read the total but when I pulled my wallet out to pay, Leigh swatted my hands away. I rolled my eyes at her, but tucked it into my pocket, not bothering to argue with her. There would be no point. After arguing I would let her win. All she had to do was look up at me with those big brown eyes and I would cave.

Once we had coffee and breakfast in hand, we walked out of the shop and started exploring the town. Leigh led the way, pointing out some of her favorite shops that were only open during the tourist season. I listened as she told me about some of the people who ran the shops. She rambled on about their lives as if she was best friends with all of them.

“How do you do that?” I asked, looking at her as she sipped her drink. “How do you find the time to care so much about everyone else’s lives?”

Leigh shrugged. “I spend a lot of time up here whenever I can. You get to know the locals. Besides, people are fascinating. They all lead different lives but can always find something in common. That’s part of what I love so much about art. It’s like seeing into a person’s deepest thoughts without them telling you what’s going on.”

“You like trying to figure people out.”

She nodded. “People are a mystery. That’s part of what makes them so interesting. Art is like a little window into their soul. You get to see how they think. Each brushstroke is unique. Each thought they had while making that mark or taking that picture is entirely different from their next.”

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever met anybody who sees the world exactly like you do.”

She gave me a wry smile and shrugged. “Maybe you need to meet more people.”

I laughed and nodded, picking off a piece of my croissant and popping it into my mouth. “You’re right. Most of the people I know all think in statistics.”

“Sounds like that might be part of your problem then.” She sipped her drink and led the way back to the car. “How do you ever expect to change the way you look at life if you aren’t constantly challenging your viewpoint?”

“You know, you might be right about that.”

“I’m right about a lot of things.”

I rolled my eyes and unlocked the car. “Get in and let’s go start packing you up for your drive back to the city.”

“You know, I never really liked living in the city. I always thought if I had the chance, I would live somewhere else. The only thing that really keeps me there is the art community. If it weren’t for that, I might have moved to Kentucky.”

I laughed and looked at her. “Why Kentucky?”

She shrugged as I started the car. “Have you ever met somebody that tells you they’re moving to Kentucky?”

“Good point.”

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