Work of Art ~ Book 3 The Masterpiece

by Ruth Clampett

  A sharp pain shoots through me. Our lives have never felt so separate. I look out the window and watch the waves roll toward the shore. A couple walks hand and hand across the sand, and I turn away.

  As Riley drives her car down the private road off the highway, I note that Max’s house looks dark. She pulls up next to my car, and I feel a wave of panic. Somehow, knowing that my car was here left a warped connection to Max. When I pull out of his driveway, it’ll be one more way that we’re no longer together. I grit my teeth and fight back my tears as I step out of the car.

  “Are you okay?”

  I try to reassure her. “Yeah, I’m tough. Thanks, Riley.”

  “Okay, I’m off to Dylan’s, but if you need anything at all, to talk or whatever, just call me.”

  She gives me a sympathetic smile, and once I’m in the seat of my car and fire the engine, she backs up and heads up the road. I’m about to follow her when a movement catches my eye. My eyes scan the scene before me to no avail, but then when my vision lifts higher, I see something. I squint. The darkness is falling, and I can’t be sure, but I could swear that I see Max in the upstairs bedroom window watching me. It’s so dark that I would have missed him if it weren’t for a dim light behind him, rendering his silhouette.

  “Max,” I whisper, as I turn off my ignition.

  I sit for a moment, silently watching him, but he doesn’t move an inch. He’s frozen in place, and if I didn’t see the glint of his eyes blinking, I’d think he were a statue.

  My heart thunders in my chest, but my instincts can’t be denied. I get out of my car and, with each step through the garden, my resolve strengthens. I’m going to find him, and when I do, I won’t leave until he gives me something to hope for when all hope seems lost.

  When I grab the handle to his front door, it’s locked, but unlike the scenario in my nightmare, my key opens it easily. I step into the darkened foyer.

  “Max,” I call. “Max!”

  Deafening silence surrounds me as I step further inside. Perhaps he can’t hear me all the way upstairs. But if he’s watching, surely he knows I’m coming in.

  I run up the stairs two at a time and rush down the hallway until I face his bedroom door. I take a deep breath and push it open.

  “Don’t come in here, Ava!” His voice hits me like a brick wall.

  I freeze, my fear letting his words control me. He wants me to leave. He doesn’t want me here. But as I start to falter, my determination takes over. Damn him. I’m not leaving. I take three long strides into his lair.

  “I told you not to come in,” he groans with exasperation.

  “Why can’t I come in, and what’s with this dramatic stuff? Why are you watching me creepy-like from the window, and why is the house dark?”

  I glare at him and shove my fists down on my hips as another question hits me. “Hey, where’s your car?” I’m angry and it feels good.

  “In the garage. I didn’t want you to know I was home. I don’t want you to see me like this,” he says quietly with his eyes focused on the floor.

  “Well, too bad. Here I am, and I’m not leaving until we’ve talked about what’s going on. I can’t keep waiting to hear from you. Do you even care what you’re doing to me?” My legs are shaking, but my voice is strong and clear.

  His hands tighten over the clothes in his arms. His lips make a straight long line as they purse together in frustration. It suddenly occurs to me that his bedroom has changed, and as my gaze wanders from one corner to the other, my chest tightens. It’s as if his closet exploded. Clothes and shoes are tossed across every surface and scattered all over the floor.

  “What’s this?” I ask, sweeping my hand across the mess.

  “Cara told me that if I put my closet back together, it would be a step in my healing.”

  “And this is you putting it back together? It’s not going so well—looks like you could use some help.”

  He stands silently and watches me with wary eyes, as if I’m a stranger in his home. The lost look on his face softens my temper.

  “So, what are you healing from?” I know the answer, but I want to hear it fall from his lips.

  “The fact that you’re leaving me.”

  The beautiful tux he wore in Barcelona is crumpled up on the floor. I walk over and lift it by the hanger, brush it off, and carry it into the near empty closet. I ceremoniously hang it up and step back out while calculating my next move. I decide to go for broke. I point to an area of the closet.

  “So, see this section? Can you keep this open for when I stay with you? Then, when I’m done with filming and I move in, I want the rest of my space back. But, meanwhile, if it makes you feel better to put your stuff back, I understand.” I take a pile of sweaters and carefully set them on a shelf on the far end.

  “When you stay with me?” He repeats my line awkwardly, as if he’s a foreigner just learning our language.

  “Of course, yes. I’m going to be here as much as humanly possible. I’m not leaving you, Max…Do you really think I am going to let you push me away because I want to take this great job opportunity? Seriously?”

  His mouth hangs open, and his hands clutch the clothes in his arms so tightly his knuckles are white.

  I take another step, standing a foot away as I speak softly.

  “I am never giving up on us, Max. You need to understand that this can work. You are mine, I am yours, remember? I know you’re horribly upset about the New York move, but we have our entire life together to consider, not just the next twelve months.”

  He closes his eyes tightly with a wince.

  I step even closer.

  “Are you really done with me, Max? You’re going to give up that easily? Don’t you think we are worth fighting for?”

  “Fuck, Ava!” He tears his hand through his hair and some of the clothes fall out of his arms. His eyes look wild, but at this point, agitated Max is preferable to the vacant automaton I’ve been talking to.

  “What? What?” I’m equally frustrated, but I’m not backing down.

  “Of course you’re worth fighting for. Just tell me what to fight and I’ll beat it down, blow by blow. But this is intangible, like I’m fighting shadows. You know how I get, Ava, no matter how hard I struggle. I’m a crazy fuck, and just the idea of you living in another city and building a new life where I’m on the outside edge is killing me, one paranoid thought at a time.”

  “Max…” I reach for him, but he backs away.

  “And I’ve tried to convince myself to follow you, but I’ve already had three full-blown panic attacks just over the idea. The peacefulness and constancy of this place is what helps me through the stress when I leave here. I’m afraid I’d go nuts in New York. You and I both know that me visiting for a few days at a time when your schedule will be constantly changing isn’t going to work.”

  “But, Max, if you stay here and I go, it doesn’t mean we can’t stay together as a couple. It’s just a year, and I’ll come home as often as possible.”

  “But the way you’ve handled this…all I’ve been able to think is that I don’t matter.”

  “God, no, I’d never want you to feel that way. I must be an idiot because I assumed I could have it all. I knew it would be hard, but it never occurred to me you wouldn’t be willing or able to wait for me.”

  He holds up his hand and gestures wildly. “Every time I convince myself I can get through the year, every time Cara goes over how it can work, the hope sparks…but then my mind starts to reel with fears, and I’m worse off than when I started. It feels like everything is ruined.”

  Ruined.

  His words are a kick in the gut. “Ruined? Really? So, what the hell, Max…The solution is to push me away?”

  “Maybe,” he says softly without an ounce of conviction.

  “And what about the thread that holds us together and always pulls me toward you? Even now, as angry and disappointed as I am, even with you not wanting to see me, it takes everything I have not t
o grab you and never let go.”

  “Ava, don’t.” He’s white as a ghost.

  “So, you don’t feel it anymore…Is that what you’re telling me?”

  He’s silent, his mouth pressed shut, and his eyes closed.

  I hesitate with a risky idea echoing in my head before deciding it’s worth a try.

  “Why don’t you let me kiss you so you’ll know for sure?”

  His eyes suddenly open wide. I hope he’s remembering the moment after Ojai when he challenged me to kiss him to see if we still had the magic between us. I have him. He can’t deny me, and he knows it.

  Never letting my eyes fall from his, I pull the clothes from his hands and let them drop to the floor. I gently frame his face with my hands, and I move toward him slowly as the electricity sizzles between us, the silent sparks of fire lighting the darkened room.

  I skim my lips against his and I pause, desperately wanting him, but determined to make my intentions clear. I sigh, wanting to push the words into his parted, waiting lips so they go straight into this heart. “I love you, Max. You’re everything to me, and I’m never letting you go.”

  He doesn’t fight me as my lips press into his. A jolt from my want overpowers me, followed by the weight of my regret for unintentionally hurting him. My fingers run across his scalp and weave through his thick hair. I pull him closer, running my hands across his chest and over his shoulders. He lets his guard down, and when he finally kisses me, my heart beats again.

  “Max,” I whisper with longing in my voice as he pulls back and looks at me intently. His skin is flushed, but his expression reflects a mix of adoration and sadness.

  “The problem is that I don’t remember how I lived without you, Ava. What am I supposed to do when you leave?”

  Tears well up and spill across my cheeks. “Max, can’t you just try it before you give up? There are phone calls, email, and texts. I’ll come here and you’ll go there.” I rest my hands on his chest.

  He’s watching the trail of my tears.

  “Think of how fast a year passes. Please, can’t you try?” I beg.

  “A year, a whole year.” He looks panicked.

  “You know what? You’re making me feel like I’m not worth waiting for. If it were you, I would wait…I swear I would.”

  He looks gutted. “Not worth it? Oh, Angel, don’t ever say that.”

  I look up, and in a single moment, it’s as if he’s cracked a hole in his protective shell and he’s pushing his way out. As he finally opens up to me, he’s a speeding train, and I’m standing in the middle of his tracks. He powerfully lifts me up in his embrace, his words of regret and desperate need jumble together, while our hands frantically grasp and pull. He passionately kisses me with love and tenderness, and hope flares brightly.

  Lowering us to the bed, he pulls me tightly against him, front to front, lying on our sides. My heart pounds from the heated connection we share everywhere we touch. I’ve missed this feeling so desperately that I’m drunk now with the sensation of it. All I can do is press closer to him and pray he never lets me go.

  “I’m such an ass,” he says with a moan, as he gently strokes my cheek.

  “Yes, you are. If I didn’t love you so much, I swear…”

  “I’m sorry I’ve put you through this. So sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I’m ashamed for how I freaked out and shut down. Sometimes, I don’t understand what the fuck is wrong with me. I’m so proud of you getting this job, and I don’t want to ruin this for you.”

  I still and listen, but don’t respond right away while he waits patiently.

  Finally, my heart speaks as I look in his eyes. “No, it doesn’t make me feel any better. We’ve both made mistakes here. I should’ve told you everything first. And it was really wrong that I didn’t stop and consider everything before I surged ahead when I got the offer. You abandoned me out of fear without even trying to figure things out. We need to be better than this, much better.”

  He gingerly slides his fingers through my hair, then down my back, pulling me closer still. He takes a deep breath. “I want to be better. I’m going to try to figure this out with everything I’ve got. I can’t lose you.”

  I fist my hands over his chest and twist up his T-shirt. “Then fight for me, damn it. Don’t just give up. Don’t ever do that again.”

  I want his weight on me, but instead, he inches toward me and slowly trails kisses over my cheek, across my forehead, and down my nose. I lie still, my heart aching. There’s so much love in every touch, but there’s a searching too, as if he’s still looking for answers my words won’t give him. If only he could see in my heart, any fear he has would fade away.

  I return the gesture, but I start by grazing his chin with my teeth and then feathering my lips along his cheekbone and down his neck. He moans softly, so I lift up to look at him and smile. He presses his forehead against mine.

  “Can I kiss you?” he whispers.

  “Please…”

  Oh, and the feeling of his lips against mine—all warmth and softness, liquid love pouring through me, washing all the pain away. I kiss him gently, but with an edge of fire. I feel his heart pounding close to mine. Then, before we pull apart, he gives me the kind of kiss that wipes out all reason. Sheer desire is all that remains.

  Oh, my God. I’d give anything to hold onto this feeling. We still, each holding our breath.

  He lifts up on his elbows and gently brushes the hair out of my eyes as he looks at me with an intensity that tears through me. I hold his gaze, waiting. His eyes roam over my cheeks and lips, and then back to my eyes. He lets out a deep sigh.

  “I love you, Ava.”

  “I love you too.”

  He looks so earnest, so determined.

  “I want you to follow your dreams, so I’ll try to make this long distance thing work. Please be patient with me, and I’ll try my best.”

  “That’s all I can ask, Max.”

  Chapter Eleven / We are Stars

  I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free.

  ~ Michelangelo

  As the early morning sun peeks into his window, my gaze skims over my beautiful man. I say a silent thanks to the sheet that has wiggled its way down, leaving Max gloriously naked. As he lies fast asleep on his stomach, I restrain myself from running my hands over his perfect ass and strong thighs. But I have to leave soon to get home, shower, change, and get to work on time.

  Despite my efforts not to disturb him, when I get out of bed, his eyes pop open.

  “Where are you going?” he grumbles.

  I turn and run my hand across his back. “I have to leave. I have to be at work in two hours, and the drive into town will be brutal.”

  “Drive back now? To hell with that—just call in sick and come back to bed.” He gives me a lazy, sexy smile as he burrows his head into his pillow and reaches for me. This isn’t helping my resolve.

  “I can’t call in sick when I’m only going to be working there a few more weeks. They need me to be there.” I put on my clothes.

  “You can’t blame me for wanting you to stay,” he says with a smoldering look that almost makes me lose my resolve and climb back into bed.

  “Oh, Max. You’re making this so hard. I promise I’ll make it up to you tonight.”

  “Okay.”

  I kiss him, and then whisper in his ear, “Call me later?”

  He nods and winks.

  Jackson calls just after lunch to tell me that he has made good progress on my contract. They’ve agreed to a three-day weekend twice a month, which will leave me enough time to come to L.A. I have all holidays off, including two weeks when production shuts down around Christmas and New Year’s. They’ve also agreed that the New York contingency will only apply to the first year, when we’re actually shooting two seasons of episodes. If the show gets picked up for season three, they will base production in L.A. and focus on West Coast artists.

  Finally, when Jackson tells me what he
’s negotiated for my salary, I almost fall out of my chair. It may not be a lot by Hollywood standards, but it’s certainly more money than I ever thought I’d earn in my lifetime.

  “I think it’s time to give your boss the official notice, Ava. Congratulations, my dear. Soon, you’ll be a star.”

  I thank Jackson profusely and hang up feeling optimistic. If I can fly to L.A. at least once a month, and if Max can come see me as frequently, our separation doesn’t sound completely horrible. Meanwhile, this crazy fantasy is actually becoming a reality.

  That evening at my apartment, I lay in Max’s arms and explain the contract details. He listens patiently, relaxed from our ardent lovemaking.

  “If you come see me once a month and I’m here twice a month, then we will be together three times a month. That’s almost as much as we see each other now.”

  He gives me an exasperated look. “No, it’s not. Besides, when production starts, there will be all sorts of reasons why you have to keep working. Between my dad and my friends in the business, I know all about the huge gap between what they say, what’s expected, and what actually happens. Before you know it, you’ll never make it home.”

  “I won’t let that happen.”

  “You won’t be able to control it. And I’ll be here all pent up, waiting for you. It’ll be frustrating. I’m not used to restraining myself that long.”

  I pull away angrily. I can’t believe he pulled the horny man card. My inner cheerleader face-plants because it’s the very thing I’ve feared. With women circling him like buzzards searching for fresh prey, can he keep his cock in his pants while I’m a world away? He’s just made a vague suggestion that his self-restraint is questionable.

  I can’t hold back my anger. “So, you need sex so badly you’ll do other women while I’m gone? Really? I heard what you said to Dylan about going back to the art sluts. Can you imagine how that made me feel?”

  “Damn it, you know I didn’t mean it. I was foaming at the mouth that night. But you’re in denial if you think this isn’t something we’ll need to work on.”