by Landra Graf
“What are you thinking?”
A question since he’d gone silent for more than ten minutes. Something he’d never get used to with a live model.
“This painting will be amazing because I’ve got a real subject instead of drawing from memory.”
“It will be amazing because you are amazing.”
He chuckled. “Always with the false flattery. Don’t puff me up. I’m trying to stay grounded.”
Rising on all fours, she crawled across the bed toward him.
When she reached the edge, she gave him a smile, a seductive, slowly appearing thing, bringing his dick to attention. “I can think of plenty of other ways to send you soaring.”
“I like the sound of that, as soon as I finish the sketch.”
Groaning, she threw herself onto her back, the mattress letting out a whoosh sound as she did. “How much longer?”
His hands were the ones controlling the time it took, and he moved faster now. Drawing the lines and shading the areas he wanted in shadow, the play of light and dark on the surroundings close to the bed. The bed itself would be pure white until it reached her skin, where he’d turn parts the same creamy, olive color. To prove where she touched everything turned, affected by her and her spirit—as he’d been. Yes, he was close to defining her hair, the lines of her shape, the folds of the blankets—
“Murph? You got lost again.”
He blinked from the sketch and back to her. “Sorry, yes...almost done. Maybe ten more minutes. I’m just trying to get a few more details in here.”
Then the fact hit him, they’d become sexually obsessed with each other. His body craved hers all the time. To get wrapped within her and since they dispersed with condoms—a risky idea, but one he’d too eagerly jumped at, his dick seemed to be at attention nonstop. Sex three times in less than a day was not enough, for her or him. Maybe they should slow down. “Did you want to get dressed and go for a walk?”
“Really?” One of her eyebrows perked up. “You want to take a walk over sex? Who are you and what have you done with Murphy?”
He laughed while his hand tightened around his pencil, nearly snapping it. Damn. “I’m still me, but I want to make sure we don’t spend all weekend in your apartment. Also, this gives me an excuse to grab some food.”
“You could’ve gotten that when you went downstairs for the art supplies.”
Yes, he could’ve, but he’d been absorbed in his vision of the painting. As was his way, to get caught up in something to the point he forgot about everything else. A habit he didn’t think he’d ever break. “You’re right, and I got distracted.”
“I bet I can help you get more distracted.”
Then the doorbell rang downstairs. Not once, but twice. A Hail Mary from a visitor. Murph stood, shoving his chair back. “I’ll get the door...and the food, sandwiches. Stay right there.”
She laughed as he ran out of the room. He took the stairs two at a time and leaped from the top of the last three, his flip flops thwacking against the wood floor as he landed. Popping open the front lobby door, he was ready to face Tricia, totally prepared to confess he’d been busy, but instead, a dude with brown hair and a chiseled jaw, wearing a polo jeans combo stood there. He looked concerned at the sight of Murph.
“Is Agatha Kakos here?”
A rock dropped in his gut. “She’s busy at the moment. May I let her know who’s here?”
“Jordan, her boyfriend.”
“Oh, you mean Jordan-her-ex-boyfriend-who-cheated-on-her?” Being nice was a better way to approach the situation, but this asshole had some balls to show up after hurting Aggie.
The ex bowed up at Murph’s statement and took a step forward. “Who the hell are you? Whatever is between me and Agatha is our business.”
“I’m her landlord and friend, and believe me, your business is mine because I get to deal with the mess you left her in.”
“Murph?” Aggie’s voice filtered down the stairs. “Who’s there?”
He glared back at Jordan, letting the disdain and anger pour out of him. God, he wanted to plunge a fist in the asshole’s face; a way to ease the pain of Aggie’s silence about his declaration of love. Instead, he did the right thing and announced the asshole’s presence.
“It’s your ex.” He kept the door cracked, refusing to let Jordan get a glance at their home, at her.
“Jordan’s here?” She sounded surprised, and did he hear happiness in her voice?
“Yeah, I’m here, Agatha. Can we talk?” Jordan yelled.
This asshole. Murphy wanted to tell him to fuck off, but this wasn’t his situation. He possessed no real claim here, only a friend with benefits.
“Murph, let him in and give me ten minutes.”
“Okay, I’ll let the jerk in.” Yes, he threw in the last bit to be a dick. The thought she’d give this guy another shot hurt.
Stepping back, he ushered the A-hole inside. The main foyer didn’t give much insight into their living quarters, nor were there any chairs to sit on. No, this place remained devoid of decoration on purpose. He didn’t want it to appear welcoming, for unwelcome visitors like this douche.
“I take it she told you everything?”
“Yes, and you’re not a very good person.” Honesty, he had that in spades.
Jordan nodded, looking around at the empty green-painted walls. A skylight above provided the only illumination, which was a little, but not much. “Nice place you have.”
“It gives excellent lighting for my paintings.”
Murph’s statement about his assessment of the ex’s treatment of Aggie would obviously be ignored.
The douche raised an eyebrow. “You’re an artist.”
“Yep, and you interrupted my session.”
“By all means, don’t let us keep you.”
“When you take away—”
“Okay, I’m here.” Aggie’s voice and her footsteps on the stairs cut him off from doing both himself and Aggie an injustice. But, boy, did Murphy want to knock the smug smile off that bastard’s face.
Jordan openly admired her and Murph’s hands clenched into fists, anger flooding his gut. He didn’t spare Aggie a glance and kept the full force of his emotional frustration trained on her ex.
“Murph, can we have a minute?”
The question shook him, scared him, and rocked the foundation beneath his emotional state. He’d thought they were coming to an understanding. She kept him sane, kept the monstrous beast within him reined in. Instead, she wanted time alone. Then came her hand, cool and alive, against his shoulder. Murph looked at her then, soaking in the pleading patience in her eyes.
“Sure, I’ll get those sandwiches together. Just come grab me when you’re done.”
So, he left. Turned and headed for his apartment, opened the door, stepped inside, and then decided to leave it open a crack. To wait behind it, like a horrible eavesdropper and listen in, because what if Jordan turned violent? What if her ex was a woman beater or tried to put his hands on Aggie? Those were the white lies he told himself to justify huddling behind a piece of wood and peeking through the slit caused by the separation of the door joints.
“So, you’re sleeping with your landlord?” Jordan’s opening line.
“If I am, I don’t see how it’s your business.”
Jordan shook his head and leaned forward, bracing himself against the door frame. “Nope, it’s not. But as a friend, I can express concern, can’t I?”
Rich. Super rich coming from the guy who’d broken her damn heart, stolen from her, and expressed no sympathy so far.
“Enough of the bullshit, Jordan. What are you doing here and how did you find me?” Aggie asked.
“I came to see you, after the other day...I felt horrible. I mean, I’ve been feeling horrible.”
“About what?” Aggie’s voice got low and tough. “Cheating on me? Stealing my money I put toward our place and moving another woman in with you? Going to a public location you know I frequent with
your new girlfriend and praying you don’t run into me?”
Jordan’s face went red before he sputtered. “I didn’t...the money, yes, that was wrong. I can give some of it back. I mean, your down payment, at least.”
“So, I’m worthy of a pay off? Is that what you do to assuage guilt every time you fuck up? You pay people money.”
Murph slapped a hand over his mouth to stop his snicker from getting too vocal. His Aggie turned out to be a shark when it came to people fucking with her. If she believed herself weak, this proved otherwise. Jordan stood there practically trembling, but he recovered quickly.
“No, it’s not about money. When I saw you yesterday, you looked so hurt. I couldn’t...it hurt me. I needed to talk to you. I realized that maybe I was wrong. I talked to your mother and she gave me the address you’d moved to.”
She scoffed. “Really? What about Lucy?”
“She’s at home and doesn’t know I’m here.”
“Unbelievable.” She threw her hands up before slapping both palms on the little side table. “First, you lie to me, and now you’re lying to her. You called my mother, which is a big mistake. What a huge waste. I should’ve seen you coming two years ago.”
“Now, you’re not being fair, Agatha.”
“More than fair. This is your clue to get the hell out of here. Mail me a check for my down payment, and never darken my doorway again.”
Jordan stood straight then and plastered on a cocky smile, one that got Murph’s fists at the ready. “Fine, but at least say we’ll part as friends.”
“No, Jordan. We’re nothing. You guaranteed that when you took another woman into the bed we shared.”
There were a few more words exchanged, but Murph didn’t hear them. No, his mind focused on the end, the fact she’d severed all connection with her ex and now they could move into the future together. The door shut, and he moved into the kitchen with a little hustle.
After throwing open the refrigerator door, he pulled out the mayo, mustard, bread, meat, and cheese—time to enjoy a little lunch before their walk. He assembled everything and turned to find Aggie standing in the entrance, quiet and pensive.
“Hey there, everything go okay?”
“Murph, I need a little time.”
“Sure. We can eat and then you can rest upstairs.”
She shook her head. “No, I need to get some fresh air. I’m going to pass on lunch.”
“But—”
“Just give me this.” She left then, without a goodbye, a hug, or a kiss. He received nothing, except the sounds of more doors shutting behind him.
Standing there with a sandwich in hand, something snapped. Aggie was gone and wanted space. He’d done everything right. You did everything wrong. The voice inside fueled him, and the anger rose swift and furious. He threw the sandwich into the trash, marched down the hallway and into his spare bedroom.
Then he did a number on the speed bag hanging from the ceiling, pounding his fists in a steady rhythm. Minutes passed and finally the red haze started to fade. Satisfied, he went to get all his supplies from Aggie’s apartment, determined to finish the painting he’d started, resolved to wipe away any remaining anger with blind focus. At least, until Aggie came back.
#
Aggie took off on foot, leaving her car behind, and headed in the direction of the Highlands. Thirty minutes later, she looked up and found herself outside Cupid’s Café. Funny, the place she’d gone at the start of getting over Jordan, and after another confrontation, here she stood again.
The café door opened before she could turn around and walk away.
“Ms. Kakos, what a pleasure to see you again. Won’t you join us?” This from the too-finely-dressed Mr. Heart.
“Is there coffee?”
“There always is. You can even have your same booth. An Americano, correct?”
Aggie nodded and smiled before side-stepping past Mr. Heart and crossing the threshold. Immediately, the nervous gut churning she’d been dealing with since Jordan showed up on her doorstep dissipated. A band played on the stage, a sign mentioned an open mic night, and everyone’s focus was on the music.
Sliding into the booth, she took the side that had a view of the bar and the door and then sat back and enjoyed the atmosphere. Seeing Jordan again, watching how Murph stood up for her, and then living through how she stood up for herself...the whole experience left her a bit empty, washed out. She’d given everything she had into standing against Jordan.
Summoning all the rage, pain, and even her disgust toward herself and channeling it toward the offending party. When it was over, she’d known Murph had listened in. He’d gotten a front-row seat to the whole conversation.
How she felt about him listening, she’d yet to decide, but for some reason, she’d been embarrassed. A little ashamed by the idea he’d heard her anger, the way she’d turned into her mother. Strong women never let a man get the last word. She’d made sure Jordan left with his tail between his legs.
The waitress halted her musing by dropping off her coffee order, her Americano’s thin trail of steam a welcome sight. She needed caffeine to help clear her head. She blew over the top of the cup before adding in cream and sugar. Then she took a quick sip, allowing the java to sit there for a moment, the heat on her tongue a welcome respite.
Within forty-eight hours, she’d dealt with a fall from grace, being fully worshipped, a declaration of love, and telling her ex to get stuffed. Now came the challenge of figuring out what to do next. She wanted to help Murph, to continue to support him in his quest to get better and with the paintings. But did she love him?
“May I join you?”
#
Murph planned to paint, to leave Aggie be, but he found all his earlier creativity gone, washed away. After what had happened the previous day, and her purging session, he’d feared the worst, that she’d go seeking solace in food when she could seek comfort from him. Why he’d decided to check Cupid’s Café, he’d never be able to tell anyone, but it was the first place he went.
Sure enough, she sat at a booth inside. He saw her from the window, staring at the bar, her fingers tapping against the table until the waitress approached with a tall coffee cup. It’d be easy to just stay outside, watch her from afar and play sentry. Then the door opened to reveal Mr. Heart.
“Good evening, Mr. O’Shea. It’s good to see you again. Can I offer you a delicious hot beverage on this fall afternoon?”
“Yes, I could do with a coffee.”
“Your usual?”
Murph nodded and stepped inside. The calm washed over him and the fears he’d held of Aggie leaving or having confusion over Jordan disappeared. The courage to approach her welled up within him and then it wasn’t hard to walk over to the booth. To catch her sipping from her cup, a small assortment of empty creamer and sugar packets on the table.
“May I join you?” The question came without an agenda beyond sharing a space with her. He wanted to be close, to listen.
She nodded but still didn’t speak.
He slid into the booth seat and found a need to do something else. “I’m sorry for listening in on your conversation with Jordan this afternoon. You’ve told me so little about him personally, I worried for your safety and I also worried for myself.”
“Yourself?” This, the first word she offered and it was tinged with confusion.
“Yes, myself. Being afraid for you is an excuse to justify my behavior. Selfishly, I believed I might lose you to him.”
She scoffed. “Wow, you had such little faith in me.”
The coffee he ordered showed up then, along with a bill, which he decided he’d happily pay. After being such an ass.
“Yes, I lacked faith.”
“You sure the hell did. I may be weak at times, but I wouldn’t let someone treat me like crap. Ever.”
She’d certainly proved it, too.
“Yes, I heard and saw. I won’t doubt your strength ever again.”
They sat in
silence for a few minutes, sipping their coffee, listening to the music from the latest band on the stage. The lack of discussion, the fact she’d not said one way or another if things were good, failed to stir any crazy emotions. Then he remembered neither of them had eaten in a while.
“Are you hungry?”
“I could eat,” she replied with a smile. “And I forgive you.”
Those words dispelled all issues, and from there, they enjoyed a fine afternoon into evening. Dinner gave way to the Mediterranean delights, more drinks, and that was when they started talking.
“What took you so long getting here?” Aggie spoke up first.
“Funny story. I tried to paint. Gave up, got waylaid by a nosy neighbor wondering if you had a new boyfriend or something.” Trix had approached him as soon as he walked out the front door and he’d waved her away.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing, I didn’t even answer her or have the patience to deal with her. I just wanted to get to you. You make things better.”
Chapter Twelve
“What took you so long getting here?” She’d tried not to let jealousy seep into her tone but wasn’t sure if she’d been successful. The idea of anyone else with him made her head spin, but she’d never admit to love. No, selfishness perhaps, but finer feelings needed to stay far away.
They’d shared a simple meal, with Murphy mainly wondering if she was okay, followed by listening to a guitar player and his accompanying pianist. Songs of love, life, and a fondness for open spaces filled the air around them. Nothing fancy, but calming all in the same.
“Anyone care for dessert?” This from the waitress who’d brought them fresh coffee only minutes before.
She shook her head on instinct, but Murph, who just came back from the bathroom, stood there with a hand on the opposite booth and replied, “Yes.”
“I don’t think I should.”
“Aggie, you don’t have to, but I’d like to try their baklava.”
The comment made her a little self-conscious. She’d never been a small girl, nor did she shy away from eating. Mealtimes, her favorite times of day, the times her parents never argued, the moments when they all talked about happy things. Food naturally became something she associated with good things, good times, and tended to eat too much during those.