One to Love (One to Hold 4)

“See you in a minute.” I caught his chin and kissed him, determined to show him how safe he was with me. “If you need any help just leave it. I’ll only be a second.”

Chapter 23: “Let Be be finale of Seem.”

Slayer

I watched her walk up the shore, the red floral sundress she wore clinging to her wet body and her long violet hair swaying in beachy waves down her back. Damn, if I didn’t get a semi just watching her walk.

Last night, while she was gone, I’d returned to my old routine of cold meat and white bread for dinner followed by a walk to the shore with that behemoth book. I wasn’t even really keeping track of the story so much anymore as consuming the words to pass the time.

When it got too dark to see the text, I lowered it and looked out at the water, wondering what I’d be doing if I hadn’t been out here, running away from my demons that night. She said I’d saved her, but the reality was she was the angel who saved me. Now I was trying to hold onto her—as if I could be that lucky.

Walking slowly toward the boardwalk, I savored the memory of being inside her for the first time with no barriers, just her and me. Glancing around, I adjusted myself, glad I didn’t have an audience. I looked down at the painting she’d done. It was a skilled artistic rendering even if it was finger paint. She’d swept waves across a blank sheet of paper that rivaled the ones behind me hitting the shore.

I stacked the paint-filled plates on top of one another and collected the four bottles. It wasn’t much to carry, and she was rubbing a towel in her hair when I walked through the door.

“I was just coming to help you!” She lowered the towel and looked a little sad.

“I told you I could get it all. Here.” I held out my painting to her. At the top of the red triangle was a yellow circle and from there, several purple lines hung down.

“Is this me?” she exclaimed as if it were the Mona Lisa.

I grinned. “How did you guess?”

“You have hidden talent, Mr. Bennett. I think you should be promoted to the advanced class.”

Shaking my head, I held up her ten-second masterpiece. “This is really good. You shouldn’t be taking a break from college. You need to keep this going.”

Her eyes warmed, and she looked down. “Maybe next semester I’ll get it going again. I had just sort of... lost interest.”

“I’ll be glad to help you find it again.”

“You already have.”

Putting the paint-filled plates in the sink, I touched her cheek briefly... and left a spot of paint. “I’d better get cleaned up before you’re covered in paint again.”

Stepping into the closet-bathroom, I switched on the water. In time it took me to shower and wash my hair, she’d cleaned the dishes and put everything away. I smiled watching her move through my tiny space in her bare feet and my oversized tee.

“I hope you like sausage pizza,” she called when I stepped around the curtain hiding my bed to put on a fresh shirt. “It should be here any minute.”

I returned to her, buttoning my jeans. “I thought I might cook—”

“Nope! I’m treating you to pizza.” She skipped over and kissed my lips. I reached for her shoulders when a loud knock on the door broke us apart.

Scooping up her purse, she ran to the door before I could say anything, taking the large, brown box from the teen guy standing there and passing him a bill. “Keep the change,” she called before turning and carrying our dinner into the living room.

Every time she did something like this, I felt another chink in my walls being removed. It was a scary feeling, but at the same time, nothing was as great as being with her.

We ate our dinner, and she told me about her little boy, complete with pictures on her phone. “He’s got your eyes,” I said, checking out the blue-eyed towhead. “He’s really cute.”

Her eyes glowed when she described how he knew his numbers and colors and even could recognize words in his picture books.

“It’s because Elaine’s a teacher,” she said, leaning back against the couch. “I mean, Patrick and I are smart, but she’s probably sounding out words with him and all that stuff.”

I hated the way I felt when she mentioned this guy, Patrick. It was sick of me to feel jealous, but fuck, I couldn’t help it. “How long were you married?”

Her expression changed, and she seemed surprised by my question. “Umm... almost three years. Why?”

Now I felt like an ass. “You jus