In the first, a woman had her knees pulled to her chest, her dark hair spilling in soft waves over her hands which she’d wrapped around her knees. Most of her face was hidden. How could something without a full view of the face evoke so much emotion? In the background, people milled about. Their faces were blurry, keeping the woman as the center of attention. She was alone in a crowd of people.
The second photo was the interior of either a torn-down building or one that wasn’t completed. Maisie had photographed the rough-hewn A-frame of wood close up, so every rugged, imperfect groove was visible. It was raw and real. Beautiful even in its lack of beauty.
The final photo showed two hands: a small, child-size one reaching for a larger one. In the background, there were trees and greenery but the hands, the way they almost touched or maybe just missed each other, called to him. Made him ache.
“Hey,” Maisie whispered from behind him.
Nick turned. He hadn’t paid much attention to what she was wearing when he showed up but he was pretty sure she’d changed her top because this one was short-sleeve. A little sliver of her skin showed where the shirt didn’t quite cover her stomach. He wanted to run his lips along that spot like he had the other night. He wanted to fall asleep with her again and wake up knowing neither one of them would disappear without a word.
He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “These are amazing.” He walked toward her, holding her gaze so she could see he meant it. “You’reamazing.”
Once again, her bottom lip quivered. “What are you really doing here, Nick?”
Nick stopped just in front of her, curled his fingers into his palms so he didn’t touch her just yet.
“I’m here because you left before I could tell you that I didn’t want you to go. That one night isn’t enough. Neither is two. I told you I don’t have all the answers but I want to figure them outwith you. I want to be with you and I’m not letting you walk away a second time.”
One side of her mouth hitched up. “Technically, you walked away the first time.”
Now he reached out, pulled her against him, grateful for the flash of humor and for the way she wrapped her arms around his waist and held his gaze. “Then we’re even. Now, we both agree that neither of us walks away again.”
A cautious sort of hope brightened her eyes, making the already-dazzling brown sparkle. “I’m hungry,” she said a few seconds later.
Nick let her go and followed her into the kitchen. “Got enough to share?”
She walked to the cupboard, pulled out two plates. “Not enough to fill you up but definitely enough to share.”
“That’s fine,” he said, unpacking the bag.
There was a strange sort of comfort that came from moving around her kitchen with her, piling rice, veggies, egg rolls, and chow mein on their plates. She grabbed them both a couple of sodas and they settled on her couch.
He didn’t even realize how hungry he was until he took his first couple of bites. Once he had, and his nerves felt a bit less shaky, he gestured with his fork to the photos again.
“Those are stunning. How much do they go for?”
She laughed around her noodles. “What do you meango for?”
He speared a bite of cauliflower. “Tell me you’re selling your work, Maze. It’s gorgeous. I’ve never felt lonely and hopeful from looking at a picture and that first one makes me feel both.”
Maisie sucked in a sharp breath. “That might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me about my work. Thank you.”
“I’m just telling you the truth. I’ll always do that, Maisie. And the truth is, those belong in a gallery.”
She swallowed, her jaw flexing as she picked up her plate again. She stirred noodles around it, twirled them on her fork. “Actually, there’s a contest to have your work shown in one of the downtown galleries that I was thinking of entering.”
“You absolutely should. Not sharing that kind of talent is a crime, baby.”
She looked up at him then, her gaze locking on his and the wonder, the gratitude he saw in it squeezed his heart.
“Thank you.”
They ate for a few more minutes in silence while he took in more of her space. Soft pillows, bright colors other than the photographs. Comfort and style. It suited her and made him feel a bit better about the neighborhood.
She still had food on her plate when she set it on the coffee table. “So, what? You want to have a torrid affair for a few more days and then say goodbye properly before you go back to your life and I go back to mine?”
Jesus, she made him laugh. He grinned at her and set his plate down, took a long drink of his soda. When he set it down, he pulled her back onto his lap.
“I like that you can say what’s on your mind.”