“Mmm hmm. To California. It’s three hours earlier. Duh. You know that.”
She nodded. Then her expression clouded. “Who’re you calling? Never mind. It’s none of my business.” She started to stand, but I stopped her with a gesture.
“Sara Gilman. You remember her?”
“Tall? Dark hair? Big b— um… chest? The photographer, right?”
I nodded and couldn’t help but smile at her description.
“Was she the one who called last night?”
“Mmm hmm.”
“Oh. I thought it was—”
“Gina? No.” I paused to gauge her reaction. “So… you know about her?”
“How could I
I laughed. “It’s a bit more complicated than that.”
“Oh?”
“Ex-relationships always are.”
“You can say that again.”
“Ex-relationships always are.”
“I didn’t mean for real!” She laughed in spite of herself. “Always painting with words, aren’t you?”
“One of my many talents,” I said.
She took another sip of wine. Her blue eyes glittered over the rim and the pale golden liquid.
“Right. Well. I need to make this call. Sara’s going through a rough time and needs a friend. I don’t know how long I’ll be, but… you’re welcome to hang out.”
“You want me to hang out while you go talk to another woman?”
“It beats the alternative.”
“What’s that?”
“Um… doing something by yourself while I… uh… do my own thing?
Okay, so it’s lame. It sounded good in my head.”
She smiled indulgently and opened her book.
I went downstairs and closed my bedroom door. I dialed Sara’s number.
She picked up on the first ring.
“Hey, it’s me.”
“I was wondering if you’d really call.”
“Now you know. I really called.”
She laughed.
“So… how’s your day been? How’s Daphne?”
“Good and good. I had a shoot today. Boring fashion ad. The model was hot, but straight and a total airhead.”
“Too bad.”
“How was your day?”
“Surprisingly good. I had a talk with Wren, and…”
We chatted for almost an hour. It seemed like five minutes.
“I’d better go,” she said at last. “Daphne will be home soon. She spends time with Austin before her shift at the club. He’s trying to get her to quit, but he hasn’t said the magic words yet.”
“Magic words?”
“Will you marry me?”
“She’s that serious, huh?”
“Yeah, I think so. She’s ready to settle down. She wants a house and kids.
Normal stuff. Straight stuff.”
“And what do
“A big studio and one of those little dogs I can carry in a camera bag.”
I laughed. “Not a wife and kids?”
“Are you kidding? With Ronnie and Queen Nancy in the White House?
Right.” She held the phone away from her mouth. “Uh-oh. I hear her key in the door. Gotta go. Thanks for calling. Talk to you later. Bye!”
I chuckled and hung up.
Christy was asleep in my chair upstairs. The bottle of wine was empty. I fetched a blanket from her studio and covered her with it. Then I pulled out my stool and went back to work on my painting.
I spent an hour touching up the exterior painting and then another on the interior one. I used clothespins to hang them to dry. Christy hadn’t moved.
No wonder, since it was after two o’clock. And if I had to bet, my stupid internal clock would wake me before six.
I turned off the lights and scooped Christy into my arms, blanket and all. I carried her downstairs and into her bedroom. She woke up enough to mumble thanks.
“Want me to undress you for bed?” I teased.
“Uh-uh. Not till we’re married.”
I laughed softly. “Gonna happen
I set her on the bed and pulled the blanket over her. Then I kissed her forehead. “Sleep tight.”
“You’re s’posed t’ say ‘sweet dreams.’”
“All right. Sweet dreams.”
“Mmm. Of penises.”
“And erections,” I added with a smile.
Wren fixed a special dinner on Friday. We’d all had a tough week and wanted a bit of a celebration. She made trout amandine with steamed vegetables. It was disgustingly healthy, but Christy saved the day with a sinful almond pound cake. Afterward we opened a bottle of amaretto that someone had left at the Halloween party.
Trip swirled the amber liquid in his glass. “You know, I really enjoy these dinners, just the four of us.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. It sounded too pat.
He knew he’d been caught. His look said it all,
I chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” Wren said.
“You,” I said. “And you know why.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said loftily.
“
Thank you, Christy, for supplying the calories the fish and vegetables were missing.”
“Don’t blame me,” she said, “I’m
Three pairs of eyes rolled.
“I’m serious. You have no idea how hard it is.”
“Sorry, my love,” Wren said. “None of us have any sympathy.”
“Paul does.”
“I do? Since when?”
“Since you told me I couldn’t be a starving artist.”
“Maybe you should try a liquid diet,” Wren suggested.
My eyes snapped to her.
She ignored me.
“Do you think it would help?” Christy asked earnestly.
“It might,” Wren said. “You’d have to drink everything through a special straw.”
