Page 19 of Unlikely Match

"Good idea."

I bundle up in warm tights, a silky tank top, and a knee length sweater dress. Then a long coat and a knit hat. I've been cold all weekend, like my confused heart has stopped circulating my blood properly. I've barely been sleeping. And it's hard to eat.

Before Friday night, my life was simple. I was Noah's nanny. I cleaned the house. Read a lot. Spread out my art supplies and worked upstairs whenever I could use the dining room upstairs,or cleared the floor of my living area and aimed all the lamps at it.

Now my entire life feels so empty I can hear the echo.

I want Alex. Crave the feeling of his arms around me, long to see the look in his eyes that was always there when he was listening to everything I said so intently.

Yet I can't jump into anything unless I know that we're on the same page, and any sane person looking at our lives next to each other would say we're not even reading the same book.

I'm an arts and design magazine. Alex is a business textbook.

On autopilot, I head toward my favorite coffee shop just a few blocks away. Once I'm settled with a hazelnut latte, I pull out my mini sketchbook to attempt some doodling.

I've barely lifted my pen when a large, new sketchpad is slid in front of me.

"Want a bigger one?" Alex smiles, dropping into the chair across from me.

"How did you…"

"I stopped by your house and introduced myself to Brandy. She said you'd probably be here. Glad she's feeling better, by the way. "

It's hard to believe he's come to find me and is sitting here in my coffee shop as if everything is completely normal. Not that I have any idea what could be "normal" for us.

He unwraps the sketchbook for me. It's the brand that I only let myself buy once a year, because it's really expensive.

"The clerk said this was the best for ink drawings." Alex pulls out a handful of pens. "This is just an experiment, so I hope that one of these will work."

"Experiment? What do you need?"

"Three drawings, kind of like the ones I just bought from the gallery. Except those are just for me. These are for public consumption."

Staring into his deep brown eyes, it's impossible to tell what he might be thinking.

Drawing is easier than speaking when I have no idea what I'm trying to communicate. I look out the window for a moment, taking a few slow breaths to center myself. The angle of the sun…three sparrows flying by…the perfect circle of my mug….

When I look up from the page some time later, there are three drawings in a row. Leaning back, I blink in surprise. They are vivid. Stark. Expressive.

I look up to see Alex finishing a breakfast sandwich. "I would've ordered you some food, but I was afraid to break your concentration," he chuckles.

He hands me a blueberry muffin, then stands beside me to examine the drawings. "Jewel, sweetheart, they're perfect."

He called me sweetheart again. What does that mean?

Alex hovers over the sketches, aiming his camera very precisely. First, he takes a shot of the whole page, then zooms in to capture each individual drawing.

"What are you doing?"

"You'll see."

He fusses with his phone for a few minutes, then we go to his car where he places the sketchpad carefully on the back seat, since the ink is still a little damp.

Twenty minutes later, he pulls up in front of an office tower. During the long elevator ride to the top, I ask, "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"In a minute."

We step into the lobby, and Alex's arm winds around my waist. It feels possessive. As if he wants everyone to know that we're together.

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