On The Dotted Line

by Kim Carmichael

  It took every one of his persuasion tactics to get her to take a break and let him take her out for their weekend away. The only thing she wanted was to watch him paint, and he planned a weekend at his family’s Palos Verdes apartment overlooking the ocean, but gave into a promise he made to her and took her on a secret excursion. Though he tried to convince her otherwise, he could deny her nothing. “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why would you want to watch me paint out here? We could have purchased some paints and a canvas.” He glanced over at her.

  She leaned over. “I want to watch you in your element. I want to know a part of you no one else does.”

  “All right.” He scanned the area and put his tools down. “Don’t leave my side.”

  “That’s not up to me.” Her tone came out low, breathy.

  Unsure what she meant and with his heart thumping loud enough to set off an alarm, he shook his head, took out two spray paint cans and assessed his cracked and chipping canvas.

  She pressed her hands together and waited.

  He gave the can a quick shake, cursing the little ball hitting the metal, but blessing it as well. The moment the distinctive sound echoed off the walls of the can, he knew magic would begin. With a vision coming together, he stepped forward and made the first swipe. A black streak appeared over the grey, dirty wall.

  Willow’s gasp rang through the air.

  “I’ve never worked with an audience before.” He began his outline.

  With her eyes wide with excitement, she lifted her chin at him. “Keep going.”

  For several minutes he painted. Once the image he wanted took shape in his head, he could practically close his eyes and still create it. “I found this wall when I was checking out some property in the Bixby Knolls area around here. I started driving and was taken in by the oil refineries and factories. When I stopped here, I realized that the people living around here could see this old wall and it was a perfect place to put some art.”

  “You are much deeper than you think, Mr. Van Ayers, with a much bigger heart than I ever imagined.” She moved closer to him.

  He chose some different paint cans. Though he had been called many things in his life, deep was never one of them. In fact, most would describe him as rather shallow. Somehow Willow saw more in him, but not enough to remember her name the night Nan became ill, not enough to call him first. He wanted to use their time away to show her what they could be together. “I don’t know.”

  “I do,” she whispered. “While you’re with me I always want you to paint. This is the best night.”

  In all the insanity, he found the one woman on the planet, quite possibly the universe, who was more than thrilled and appreciative of a drive through the greater Los Angeles area watching her husband basically commit a crime all for the name of art. He wanted to give her everything and more. Above all else, he needed to broach the subject of their contract. Did it even apply anymore? What did she want? He needed to get her to tell him, wanted her to fight for them as well.

  Again, silence overtook their little makeshift art studio. The picture began to come together and the release of creating something real took over. He found his rhythm. When he first agreed to their expedition, he didn’t know if he would be able to conjure something with her staring at him, but he found her presence, or her energy, enhanced the experience. Though he purposely kept the details sketchy, as he neared the end, he had no choice but to let her in on the reveal.

  “Oh.” She sucked in her breath.

  He glanced back at her. Her tears caught the little bit of light, leaving shining silver strands down her face.

  “Come here.”

  Without hesitating she went to him and he pulled her in front of him and gave her a paint can. “Randolph.”

  “I thought we would put the final touch on together.” He put his hand over hers.

  As a couple they added the last little detail to finish the piece.

  “We should go.” He normally took off the moment he finished, only coming back a few days later to get a picture, but rather than racing away, he wrapped his arm around her waist to give her some time to take it in.

  “How do you know what you are going to paint?” She looked up at him.

  “It just comes to me. Usually something that I’m thinking about, a flash, something I find inspirational or I just need to express.” He shook his head. “It’s always been an outlet for me.”

  “Why here?” She reached back and curled her arm around his neck.

  “Why don’t you tell me what you think first?” Still, he didn’t let go of her. “I painted it just for you.”

  “I know.” She continued to gaze up at him.

  They really needed to go, but he needed an answer more. “Willow?”

  “Tell me why this is a better canvas than let’s say, a canvas.”

  “You are a tease.” He shook his head.

  “I don’t think so.” She smiled.

  “You made me wait until our wedding night to make love to you.”

  The red he coveted took over her cheeks. “Of course that was our first night together.”

  “I would have made love to you before if you would have given me anything more than a glance.” Unable to resist he gave her a little kiss on the tip of her nose.

  “Well, at least I waited long enough to get a ring on my finger.” She let out a little giggle.

  He took her hand and tangled his fingers in hers. “I’m glad you’re wearing it and not hiding it anymore.”

  “No one should ever try to hide what they are.” She stared at the mural again. “By the way, I think you have magnificent talent, and I love that the world will be able to see the beauty in the piece, but I will be one of the only ones to know the special meaning behind it.”

  He turned until they were nose to nose. “Only special because of you.”

  She took the initiative to connect their mouths.

  Even though they should leave, he couldn’t help but indulge in her kiss. Though he didn’t know how he could want her more, he found he was practically insatiable when it came to Willow. He pulled her tight against him and moaned. “Maybe it’s time to go to our next destination.”

  She put her hand on his chest and pushed back. “Before we leave tell me why you chose to display your art as you do.”

  “I couldn’t show my family, I guess I just wanted someone to see the art.” He never told anyone about his thoughts, his doubts. “Maybe I just didn’t want me or the art to disappear without notice.”

  “I don’t want you to ever disappear.” She traced his lower lip with her finger.

  “I don’t know about that, I think I added a lot of complications to your life.”

  “I can’t picture being anywhere else.”

  “At least we have luxury.” He tried to lighten the mood. “Luxury we should get to.”

  “I don’t care about that, I have you.” She turned away. “Let’s just look a moment more.”

  His breath caught at her words and he had no choice but to stare at his creation, their creation. As always, he painted what was top of his mind, and more and more Willow occupied that spot. He recreated their relationship on a wall in the middle of the industrial section of Long Beach. Though careful not to create too close a likeness to them, he included his rendition of a proposal in the alley, Las Vegas, moving to the mansion, and even silhouettes of Nan and little Jeb. They created the starburst sparkle on an oversized hand with one magnificent yellow diamond on it together. “I’m going to call this piece Our History Part One.”

  “Part one?” Her voice came out more as a squeak.

  “Yes, part one. Maybe we can pick a different spot to put part two, maybe even a different part of the country.” He ran his fingers in her hair. “I would like to take you on a real honeymoon while we’re still newlyweds.”

  She shrugged.

  Damn, he hated that shrug. “No?”

  “We’ll only ever be n
ewlyweds.” Her whole body tensed.

  “I don’t understand.” How did they go from planning their future to shrugs in less than a second?

  “Being newlyweds lasts the first year of marriage.”

  He nodded. “Right.”

  “That’s all we’ll ever be, because deep down that’s all you want.” Without warning pushed him away. “There will never be a Part Two.”

  “Willow.” He gathered up his things. At last they would address what she wanted, what he wanted. “About our contract.”

  “This has nothing to do with our contract.” She backed away. “I know what you really want, I saw the proof in writing. You were right about creating a document, signing your name.”

  “What are you talking about?” In his haste he kicked a paint can, and it rolled down the street. “Where are you going? You said you would stay by my side.”

  “I need a minute.” She walked away.

  “Willow!” He ran after her, scooping up his errant paint can in the process. Eventually she would have to face him and her wants, and not hide.

  * * * *

  “From up here the lights from the boats look like moving stars.” Willow stared out over the balcony railing watching the boats in the marina. Randolph’s footsteps echoed around her, or maybe she simply had super senses when it came to his whereabouts. What Randolph called an apartment, she called a penthouse sitting on the top floor of a fifteen-story building and allowing her to take in the endless ocean.

  “Yes, they do. Funny how during the day, the boats don’t look nearly as spectacular.” Randolph came up behind her and put a red flannel blanket around her shoulders. “Sometimes the most beautiful things can be hidden by something that shines too bright.”

  True to Randolph’s form, he stuck with their plans and drove them to their little weekend getaway. As if sensing her needs, he remained quiet, only speaking once they arrived and he told her to go enjoy the view while he tended to a few things. While watching him paint, she never felt closer to anyone. Except for when they made love, he never let go in such a way, the emotion in his work evident.

  “Maybe the stars are happy hiding until they get their turn.” The wind picked up and she offered part of the blanket to Randolph and sighed. The last thing she wanted was to ruin their night. All she truly wanted was to be his real partner, and be truthful with him.

  Rather than standing by her side, he took the blanket, draped it over himself and stood behind her wrapping his arms around her and encompassing them both in the warmth. “I may be right about putting things in writing, but I think in our case the papers may have overshadowed something much more important.”

  “I saw the contract with your father.” She shut her eyes and inhaled. “The one saying you didn’t want to be married no matter for what or to who.”

  “Where did you find that?” He moved over to one side. “How do you know about that?”

  “I didn’t mean to find it, I wish I didn’t.” She stared beyond the boats and into the blackness of the night ocean. “The original contract you had with your father never had a time limit. You don’t want a wife.”

  “I didn’t want a wife.”

  At least the man wasn’t a liar. She closed her eyes.

  “You didn’t hear me.” He took her by the shoulders and turned her toward him. “I said I didn’t want a wife.”

  She opened her eyes and not daring to look at his face, focused on his neck.

  “Do you know I finally sleep?” He leaned down. “Do you know that every day when I wake up and you’re right there curled up at my side sometimes I lay in bed an extra minute because I don’t want the peace to end?”

  “You stay in bed?” She searched his face for answers.

  “Only because you’re there.” He dipped his head down and brushed his lips against hers.

  She willed the electric shivers he created out of her body.

  “You always say I’m right about the documents, but you know what you’re always right about?”

  “What?” Her voice didn’t feel connected to her own body.

  “No one should ever start a relationship knowing the end.”

  She shook her head.

  “So I’m going to ask you the question I keep asking you.” He took her by the shoulders. “What is it that you want?”

  “Randolph.”

  “That’s not an answer. Tell me. Be honest for both of us.”

  “You tell me.” No way could she answer first.

  “I’ll tell you this, I care what happens to you and I think about you all the time. For the first time in my life, I want to rush home from work just to see you. I want to tell you everything and I trust you more than anyone.”

  Her eyes filled with tears.

  “Somewhere between the alleyway behind an art gallery and standing here on a balcony, I found my wife.” He stepped back. “I never want you to forget your name again or think you can’t use it. You are Mrs. Van Ayers. Mrs. Randolph Emerson Van Ayers the Third.”

  “Am I?” The tears escaped.

  “God, I want you to be.” He opened his arms to her.

  Her heart swelled, threatening to burst out of her chest and run to Randolph itself. Instead, her legs did the job for both her tired chest and herself and carried her to her husband. As always, she had to follow where her heart led, but maybe for once it led her to the right place.

  The moment she reached him he tossed the blanket aside and took her into his arms. She buried her face in his chest and fingered the soft fabric of his shirt. “ I care what happens to you, I think about you all the time, and every day I wait for you to come home. I never had a home or a last name until you, and I trust you with my life.”

  “Look at me.”

  She wiped her eyes on his shirt and tilted her head up, staring at him in a whole new way. While he got a wife, she also got a husband, a real husband. “Don’t leave me.”

  “Never.” He pushed her hair away from her face.

  “I am Mrs. Randolph Van Ayers.” For the first time she said her name and meant it.

  “For as long as you want to be.” He stared into her eyes.

  In their own way and their own time, they came up with another new set of vows, unique to them. At last she could give her heart to him completely with no limits. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled him down and kissed him.

  At last, after all these months, she got the chance to simply kiss her husband. Slow and easy, she took her time tasting each one of his lips. His taste belonged to her and her alone.

  He moaned and bent her back, opening his mouth. Their tongues touched and she leaned against him. Something about Randolph made her weak in the knees.

  In one fluid motion he picked her up.

  “This reminds me of our wedding night,” she whispered as she kept hold of him.

  “This is our wedding night.” With her in his arms, he turned and kissed her as he took her inside.

  For someone who tried to spend her whole life going with the flow, bending with the wind, a concrete commitment from Randolph gave her the grounding she always lacked, but secretly craved. Finally free to soar, she pulled off his shirt before he even made it to the bedroom.

  She ran her palm across his chest. Even when she spread her fingers, her hand barely covered him. With him she would always be safe.

  No alcohol stupor, no anger, no rush, he lowered them both to the bed, and they simply lay among the pillows and blankets kissing and caressing.

  Clothing seemed to disappear and they tangled their bodies together. She found a place she fit, and in the most primal and basic way, it was here with Randolph with nothing in between them.

  Everywhere his hands touched or fingers roamed came alive. She also took her turn to explore him, trace his muscles on his arms and chest, reach down and stroke the confirmation of his desire, only serving to amplify her own arousal.

  “Come closer.” He turned to his side and pulled her flush against him and k
issed across her jawline to her neck.

  “I’m right here.” She leaned back to give him access to her chest.

  His fingertips grazed her over sensitized nipples.

  A jolt of pleasure overtook her body and she squirmed against him in an attempt to satisfy a bit of her need.

  “I don’t think it will ever be close enough.” His tone low. “Look at me.”

  She did as he asked. Unable to help herself, she combed her fingers through his curls.

  He hooked her leg over his hip and slipped inside her.

  Her body welcomed the stretch to accommodate him. She sucked her breath and arched her back.

  “You are so gorgeous when I’m making love to you.” Once again he found her lips.

  They moved together. On their sides facing each other they were on equal footing to move toward their ultimate goal, but for the first time the finish line wasn’t the orgasm, the rush. Rather simply being united, acting as one was the endpoint, a metaphor for the rest of their lives.

  Still, the desire built. Randolph thrust into her with more power and speed and he panted with the heat they created.

  “Randolph.” Needing him even deeper, she slid her leg up by his chest. Her climax was there on the horizon. A little move and she would sail away in bliss.

  “Yes.” His voice came out strained as he held back the inevitable. “Willow.”

  “I’m there.” She buried her face in the crook of his neck breathing in the remnants of his cologne mixed with paint and a bit of the ocean, a heady combination.

  “I need you.” He lowered his hand to her backside holding her steady as he plunged into her. “Come with me.”

  She concentrated on the way his body took over for him, his strokes becoming more erratic, his pending orgasm taking over everything. The knowledge she could bring him to here threw her over the edge. While he stiffened with his release, she gave way diving head first into her orgasm, the intense throbs rippling through every inch of her. “Ah!”

  “Willow.” He called out to her and filled her body with the heat only a man could produce. “God, I love that.”

  They ground against one another, allowing the last few moments of ecstasy to fade away into the ultimate relaxation.