Love Stung (Shower & Shelter Artist Collective Book 5)

by Brooke St. James

  Chapter 5

  I got off of work an hour early that day, a fact for which I was extremely relieved because things were officially awkward between J.R. and myself. I had come right out and told him that we could no longer do the things we'd been doing, and honestly, I wasn't even sure how he took it. He just stared blankly at me before standing up and walking out of the office.

  I left an hour later, and he was nowhere to be found. Not that I searched for him, because I didn't. I needed to just go ahead and ask him for a reference letter while things were still halfway cordial between us. I thought about going over J.R.'s head to ask Michael, the regional manager, to do it for me, but I knew that would only make J.R. mad. I considered all these things as Isabel and I rode in the cab to our apartment. We only lived about eight blocks from my work, but we had plans to stop at a store on the way home that was two blocks past our place, so I figured we could just take a cab and get dropped off there.

  I had been too distracted to pay attention to my phone, but I took it out of my bag when I thought of contacting J.R. while things were still polite between us. I was planning on sending him a text to put a bug in his ear about it, but there was a message from my sister waiting for me when I looked at the screen.

  Macy: "I went with Drake to help him find some fabric for the inside of the egg. We came by the apartment after we went to the fabric store. He's here now."

  Her text had come in about twenty minutes earlier, and I typed out a response instantly.

  Me: "Is he still over there?"

  I heard back from her right away.

  Macy: "For now. He's leaving in a minute. He came by because the fabric store was close. He mentioned taking us to dinner since we said that to Iz, but I told him I had plans with Ethan and that you and Izzy probably wanted to chill."

  Me: "Good."

  I wrote it and sent it, but I didn't mean it. I was tired and part of me wanted to be alone, but for whatever reason, deep down, I wanted Drake to be there when we got back. Maybe I felt comforted by the sheer presence of him and wanted him around in case J.R. got mad enough to come hunt me down. I smiled at myself, feeling silly for the paranoid thoughts, and for longing for a total stranger, and all the other craziness that was happening in my own mind.

  I put my phone in my purse and focused my attention on Isabel, answering her question about the bobble head doll that was on the dash of the cab. The cabby dropped us off at our favorite corner grocery store. I had promised Isabel ice cream for being such a good girl while I was at work, and I was too tired to cook anything, so we hit the store on the way home for ice cream and frozen burritos.

  By the time we did all that, it had been at least a half hour, so you can imagine my surprise when we got back to the apartment and I realized that my sister still had company.

  Drake and Macy were sitting in the living room, looking comfortable and showing no signs of anyone leaving. She smiled at me and then beamed at Isabel, and I watched my daughter run across the living room with her arms in the air. She didn't bother taking off her shoes or backpack, and I smiled at the sight of her running toward my sister and Drake before I stared down, concentrating on taking off my own shoes.

  I knew Drake was sitting over there, but I didn't even have the strength to glance at his face. I found that I was exceedingly nervous in his presence. I took off my shoes and set down my bag before heading into the living room. Isabel was already in the process of taking her backpack off by the time I got over there. She was talking about the picture she'd been drawing, and I watched as she took it out of her bag and put it directly into Drake's hands.

  "It's a pictuwe of you and my mom," she explained.

  I realized this whole scenario with how much my daughter was smitten with Drake could come across as me trying to trap the poor guy into something when exactly the opposite was true. I didn't want to trap anybody into anything. I didn't want to be trapped into anything. No trapping either way. No trapping at all.

  "It could be anybody," I said, coming to stare at the piece of paper that Isabel had just handed Drake. My heart dropped as I looked down at it. As an added bonus to the already blush-worthy situation, there was a huge heart circling the two stick figures in the middle. Isabel didn't even know how to draw a heart yet, and the shape had simply happened by the accidental natural stroke of a four-year-old's arm. She had just handed it to Drake, so before he had the chance to inspect it too closely, I reached down and plucked it out of his hand.

  "I'll hang this on the fridge—" I had begun the statement confidently, but by the time I got to the word 'fridge', I trailed off because I realized I didn't have the paper in my hand.

  Drake had held onto it and was giving me a shocked expression when I glanced at him. "I thought you said you drew this for me," Drake said, looking directly at Isabel.

  "I did!" she said, staring at him with those gorgeous brown eyes. They were glossy and precious with dark lashes, and I couldn’t help but smile at how serious she was.

  "I know, but I want it," I said, reaching out for it again. "You can make Drake a picture of a camera or something. You can draw a camera, and it's something he'd like. A camera is just a few squares and circles."

  Drake grew suddenly even more interested in the picture and inspected it even more closely than he would have if I had just left it alone. I sighed and plopped down on the couch.

  I must have looked or sounded sufficiently pitiful because Drake handed me the paper. "I should probably let you ladies get on with your evening," he said. He shifted like he was getting to the edge of the couch in preparation to leave.

  "Noooo," Isabel said. "I weally wish you could stay ovew hewe wif us. Can you, please?"

  Isabel was usually easy to please. I would never label her as a complainer—especially in front of new people. She was too shy for that. It really surprised me to see her stare straight at Drake with a look of disappointment and flat-out plead with him to stay.

  "Drake wasn't talking about taking our picture tonight," I said since it was the only reason I could think of that Isabel would be so torn up about it.

  "I could," Drake said. "I was just telling your sister it's the first Saturday I've had off in forever."

  "Well, then we're definitely not making you take any pictures," I said. I tried to act casual as I got settled in a spot in the opposite corner of the couch. Drake adjusted to face me, and I smiled at him. His eyes and hair were incredibly dark. I honestly couldn’t differentiate his pupils from his irises. His eyes were the deepest of brown. I had thought the same thing about him when I saw him at my work earlier, and I wondered what they looked like in the sun.

  It was the thought of the sun that made me remember ice cream—Isabel's ice cream. I sprang off of the couch and ran to my bag, which contained the ice cream and frozen burritos and was still by the door. I ran to the kitchen and stashed all of it in the freezer as quickly as I could. I heard Isabel saying something to Macy and Drake about loving cookies and cream, but I was too busy chastising myself for being a total space case.

  Macy got up and headed to her bedroom. I saw her leave the room out of the corner of my eye before I put away the frozen items and turned toward the living room. Drake had stood up and was looking at me when I finished in the kitchen. Isabel had become preoccupied with some of her toys, so she stayed at the coffee table. Drake took a few cautious steps toward me. He put his hand out and approached me cautiously.

  "I know you've had a long day, so I'm not gonna bother you about the doll, but I do just want to throw it out there that I'd pay just about anything to get you to make me one. Whenever you can. I know you're busy. I just want to be on the list."

  "Well, you're the first, so I'll give you a shout when I get my life straightened out and can think about ordering some more wool."

  "This might be a weird question, but is there anything I can do to help you?" he asked.

  I could see Isabel's silhouette behind him, and she looked up when Drake asked me that
. It was only then that I realized she was listening to us, and I felt bad for saying the thing about getting my life straightened out. I continued at more of a whisper.

  "Thank you, but no," I said. "I'm not even sure what to do for myself. I'm just kind of thinking about whether I'm gonna stay in the city or go back home to Hartford."

  "That's easy," Drake said.

  "What?"

  "Stay in the city. The city's the best." He had come almost all the way into the kitchen by that point, and I smiled at the way he took up the whole place.

  "You're too big for this apartment," I said.

  "Nu-uh," he said. He reached up, demonstrating that he couldn’t touch the ceiling, at least not while he was flatfooted. His stretching motion made me remember that whole exchange between Drake and J.R. I let out a little laugh at the memory of it. "I can't believe you told my boss you crush things," I said. "That was the funniest thing I've ever heard. Your face was totally serious, too."

  "I was serious. I don't like that guy."

  I glanced over Drake's shoulder to make sure Isabel wasn't paying attention to us. "Well, he's sort of a jerk," I said quietly. "So you've got good instincts."

  "I'd like to believe you're right about my instincts, but in full disclosure, Macy told me you didn't like your boss."

  "I wondered," I said, suddenly feeling reluctant. "What exactly did she tell you?"

  "She just said she worried about you."

  "Well, there's no need," I said. "I'm fine."

  There was a small peninsula in our kitchen, and Drake and I converged on opposite sides of it. He was still holding the picture Isabel drew, but it was face down, and he was looking at me.

  "Your eyes are dark," I said, since they were breathtakingly bottomless and currently staring a hole right through me.

  "Yours are too."

  "Not as dark as yours."

  He smiled. "Maybe not."

  "I'd like to see what they look like in the sun," I said. I thought I was making casual conversation, but I realized that statement sounded more lovey-dovey than I meant for it to. I cringed, wishing I could take it back.

  He smiled. "I'd like to take your picture in the sun, anyway, so we could do both things at the same time. I have lots of windows in my studio."

  "Why?"

  "Why what?"

  "Why do you want to take my picture?"

  "Because. Why do you want to see my eyes in the sun?"

  "To see if they're brown or black."

  "Brown," he said. He was so straight faced about it that I couldn’t stop myself from smiling.

  "That solves that, then."

  "Yep," he said. "But I still want to take your picture."

  "And you want me to make you a doll."

  "I'd really love both of those things. Those two things would make my day. Can we hook those up?"

  "We can, but I'm afraid it's not gonna happen in a day. It's gonna be at least a month on that doll, and that's if I really chip away at it when I'm off work."

  "Don't worry about the doll," he said. "I know you have a lot going on right now. I don't care if I have to wait a year, I just want you to know I want one."

  "Great," I said, holding my hand out in an official manner like we should shake on our deal.

  "Great," Drake said, shaking my hand. His hand was big, and he held onto me with a firm but gentle grip. I pulled away when I realized I didn't mind the warm feel of it.

  "I'm glad we got to talk—I'm glad I got to meet you. Isabel was asking me about making you a doll, and I was thinking if I did it, I could go off of a picture. I've never made one from a picture, but I think I could. Anyway, I'm glad we met so I can see how your mouth moves and everything."

  The corners of his mouth lifted in a slow, easy grin. "I'm glad we met so I can see how your mouth moves, too," he said.

  I narrowed my eyes at him like I thought he might be making fun of me.

  "I'm serious," he said, letting out a little laugh. "It's true. I like your mouth. That's why I want to take your picture—I mean, there's lots of reasons, but that's one. Your smile is a study in contradictions."

  "I think I might be too tired to know what that means. I'm just gonna take it as a compliment."

  He gave me a resigned smile. "It was, but I should let you get on with your evening."

  "And I should let you get on with yours," I said.

  "I don't have to be anywhere till eight o'clock," he said.

  I knew that was still several hours away, but I said, "You better get going, or you're gonna be late."

  Chapter 6

  Drake wasted no time taking the hint that I wanted him to leave. One minute, I was staring at him from across the kitchen peninsula, and the next, he was walking away from me with the intention of telling Isabel goodbye before he left. I had just told him that he'd better get going, and now he was leaving, and I hated myself for ever saying those words.

  I stared at his back as he crossed the room. I felt a sense of longing and regret. I really wanted him to stay, but honestly, I didn't feel like I was up for trying to impress someone like Drake. My self-esteem had seen better days, and I had no one to blame but myself. One of my friends back home had told me before I left that, "New York would eat me alive." I had been offended when she said that, but at the moment, I felt like she'd been right to try to warn me. I felt like I'd been eaten alive—or was in the process of being eaten, at least.

  I was right in the middle of these types of thoughts when Isabel stood up and threw herself into Drake's arms. He scooped her up, and she latched onto him like a little monkey. She squeezed him tightly, burying her face into his neck. Drake held her close, but after a few seconds, he turned to me, wearing an expression like he wasn't sure what to do next.

  "Isabel, Drake's gotta go, baby."

  "He said he doesn't," she whimpered. "I heawd him say that." Her face was buried in his neck and her arms were covering her mouth. I could barely hear her, but I knew just by the way she was talking that she was crying.

  I came to stand beside them. "He does, though, baby." I said, rubbing her back. "He's got somewhere to be at eight o'clock. I'm gonna make a doll for him though, and you can help me with that." My hand was still touching her back when she took an uneven breath that let me know she was still crying. She put her fists to her eyes and rubbed, doing her best to be a big girl.

  Drake watched her take a hitching breath and rub her crying eyes, and then he shifted to stare directly at me with a serious expression as if he was mad at me for making him leave.

  I looked back and forth from Drake to my daughter, who was completely devastated by his impending departure. I had literally never seen her act this way. She wasn't trying to disobey or be disrespectful by begging him to stay—she was genuinely heartbroken. I didn't know why, but I could see it plain as day, and it broke my heart.

  "Can I talk to your mom for a minute?" Drake asked, staring at Isabel. He glanced at me. "Is there somewhere we can talk for a second?"

  Drake set Isabel to her feet with a reassuring glance that was full of all sorts of promises about how he'd be right back. He winked at her, and she smiled and blinked through her pitiful tear-filled lashes and she took another unsteady breath. My bedroom was the only place that could offer us any sort of privacy, but I didn't want to go in there, so I turned on the television on my way to the kitchen. Drake followed me, and I spun on my heel once we were far enough away from Isabel that she couldn’t hear us. Drake regarded me with a sorrowful expression as if apologizing for what he was about to say.

  "I don't want to offend you by saying this, but I think Isabel likes me."

  "Ya think?" I asked sarcastically.

  He sighed as if trying to decide how to put his sentiment into words. "What I'm saying is that I think she might like hanging out with a man a little. I don't know what your story is, or if her dad comes around, but it just feels to me like she…" Drake's expression fell when he noticed tears welling in my eyes. "I'm sorry,
I didn't mean to…" He stared at me regretfully. "I'm making this into more than it is. I just hated to leave, but I wanted you to know I don't have any other motives other than feeling like your daughter might somehow benefit from a male presence in your apartment." He closed his eyes and shook his head. "It sounds bad even saying that. I'm not trying to offend you. I'm not pretending to know what your daughter wants or needs."

  I tried to blink them away, but a tear escaped and rolled onto my cheek. I instantly wiped it with the back of my hand, glancing at Isabel's profile in the distance before smiling at Drake. "I'm only offended because you're right," I said quietly. "Her daddy knows she exists, but he's never laid eyes on her—as far as I know, anyway. She used to be around my dad more, but now that we live here, she barely even talks to any men… except for the little boys in her class and their dads. Ethan's been coming around with Macy lately, so that's good." I had been looking down, but I glanced at Drake with the same regretful expression he'd been using on me. I sighed. "Thank you for offering to stay. I think ultimately you're right about what she needs or what she's lacking or whatever, but staying an hour longer than you intended isn't going to do anything to fill her daddy void."

  "No?" he asked, looking genuinely surprised. "I thought it couldn’t hurt."

  "It can hurt," I said. I wasn't going to say anymore about it, but he just stood there and stared at me.

  "How?" he asked. "What's the harm in letting me hang out with her for a few minutes?" he asked. "You don't even have to be out here. You can go to your room."