Ronan hadno idea what the fuck he’d gotten himself into with Chloe. Dancing was beginning to look not so bad. He had no clue how to paint. Fuck. He didn’t even know what to paint.
Chloe had already picked up her brush and was painting lines. He leaned over to peek at her work, but she scooted and angled her canvas. “Eyes on your own paper, Doyle. No cheating.” She winked as she teased.
He continued to stare at the blank canvas. He didn’t know what his face said to the teacher, but she made her way across the room to him.
“Need some help?” she asked.
“I have no idea what I’m supposed to do. I need more direction.”
“No, you don’t. You just need to let go of what you think it’s supposed to be. As I said at the beginning, paint the colors and shapes you feel.”
He barely refrained from rolling his eyes. He didn’t feel in shapes and colors. This whole thing made him feel stupid and incompetent.
Then he looked over at the women across the room chatting and joking as they painted. His gaze landed on Chloe. She’d tucked her hair behind her ears and she was deeply focused on the brush stroke she was making.
Her concentration was cute.
He picked up his brush and began to paint. It was ugly, downright hideous even, but the teacher said to paint how he felt. Lately, he’d been a ball of anger, frustration, and resentment.
Except for the time he spent with Chloe. She was the one thing in his life that made him feel better rather than worse. He continued to paint until the teacher rang the bell again.
He was deep into his second beer when Chloe slid off her stool. “Ready to share?”
He stared at the mess on his canvas. “I guess.”
She turned her easel toward him. The entire space was filled with geometric shapes, all evenly and perfectly drawn, all linked together, except one, near the bottom right corner.
He took another swig of beer. “I don’t want to show mine. It looks like a preschooler did it. Especially compared to yours.” He pointed to the triangle slipping away from the other shapes. “Why is that one trying to escape?”
Her brow furrowed. “Escape? Huh. I hadn’t thought of that. The triangle is me, a little unmoored compared to the other people in my life.”
He hated that she felt so out of place and disconnected. He wished he could fix that for her.
“Your turn,” she said expectantly, as she scurried over to where he sat in front of his canvas. She leaned her arm on his shoulder and looked at his painting.
Her sweet scent wrapped around him and he pulled her closer.
She studied the blobs on the canvas. “It’s kind of dark.”
“That’s my life—messy and dark.”
Then she pointed to the thick, yellow stripe across the top of the canvas. “What’s that?”
“That’s you.”
She stiffened in his arms and then turned to face him. “What?”
“The mess at the bottom is all the shit I’m dealing with. But you’re this wide stretch where I get to feel good.”
Her eyes got teary and he didn’t know what to say. He knew he should’ve kept his mouth shut. He could already imagine Declan berating him. “What woman wants to be compared to a paint splotch?”
He opened his mouth to apologize, but her lips crashed onto his. He held her hips as they kissed.
When she pulled away, she simply said, “I love it.”
“You do? It looks like shit.”
She turned in the circle of his arms again. “It’s not every day that I’m told that I’m someone’s sunshine and happiness.”
He rested his chin on her shoulder. “You should. Because you are.”
They cleaned up their empty bottles and carried their paintings to the car.
“Where to now? Chloe asked.
“Your place. You owe me for that freak show.”
She burst out laughing but took his hand. “Deal. Thanks for not running away. I know that was weird for you. But it was fun, right?”
He just shook his head. He’d do pretty much anything for her, even if it meant pretending to like painting.