I’ve always regretted that. It wasn’t about losing my space per se, but about losing a part of me and what makes me happy. Losing my voice. Giving things up way too easily because of some smooth-talking man.
“I just like to paint,” I say, holding up my hands. “I haven’t had official classes or anything. But I did well in art class in high school, and the art teacher knew a group leader at one of the local latchkey clubs. So she hooked me up, and I painted murals over some graffiti they had on the outside wall. That parlayed into teaching painting one summer to the kids, and that rolled into teaching a class for women that really just liked to drink and paint by number.”
Harper laughs. “Drinking and painting by number doesn’t sound bad, actually.”
“I know. We should totally get a group together and do a paint night at the salon. It would be so much fun.”
“Once you get settled in, we’re doing it. Consider it done.”
I smile. “Perfect.”
“Any other hidden talents I didn’t know about?”
I rack my brain for anything helpful but come up with nothing. “That’s all I’m good at. And I’m not sure I’m even good at that.”
“Stop that.”
“What?” I ask.
“Stop playing down your strengths.” She narrows her eyes.
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I don’t care how you mean it, Avery. That kind of mental rhetoric is poison, and you do it all the time. It’s a common problem, especially with women, and I hate it. Be proud of the things you can do, sweet pea.”
Her words filter into my soul. I think about all the times little lines like that have slipped from my mouth or from someone else’s. Do I believe those few things are all I have to offer the world? No. Not really. I know I’m capable of things, and I’m not a bad painter, even if I am untrained. So why do I think like that?
Because I’ve allowed people to make me feel that way.
“You’re right,” I tell her. “I’m a decent painter. Maybe even better than decent some days.”
Harper smiles. “And even more important, you’re resilient and courageous. Look at what you’re doing right now—switching up everything in your life to find what makes you happy. That’s huge.”
I grin. “I don’t know about huge, but it’s pretty good.”
She laughs. “It’s pretty good, all right.” She sits up. As she angles toward me, her eyes glisten with trouble. “So what did you really think of today?”
“Um . . .” I try to smile, but it ends up like a cringe. “I already answered that. What are you getting at?”
Her smile turns mischievous. “What did you think of Penn Etling?”
Penn Etling.
I want to tell her that he’s one of the best-looking men I’ve ever seen. That I didn’t want to stop cutting his hair because I liked the way I felt when he looked at me. I nearly mention that although his off-the-cuff antics were ego-driven and irritating, they were somehow still charming.
And I don’t mention, either, that I’d like to give him a redo of the night we spent together, but that would require a rewind of the last week of my life. It would be the whole “one step forward, three steps back” kind of thing . . . if I could stop at three with him. I’m not sure I could.
It’s clear what Penn wants: a booty call. An adventure. A new woman to entertain him for a bit, and that’s perfectly okay. Hell, that kind of thing is even fun. But at this point in my life, I want something less superficial. I want more. I’ve gone my whole life without it, and I want it.
Still, it’s impossible not to think of him and be curious as to what he’s like now. I hate it that I even wonder. It’s like sniffing the kryptonite.
“Avery?” Harper asks, trying to draw me out of my haze.
“Huh?”
“Penn? What did you think of him?”
“Penn? Oh, he’s pretty cute,” I say, hoping it’s realistic enough to satisfy her and vague enough to make her drop it.
“Cute?” She blatantly avoids my cue. “He’s not cute. He’s downright gorgeous. And an eligible bachelor. Just saying.”
“Well, bachelors are eligible for a reason, Harper,” I say, looking back at her. “Although let me clarify that if I do hook up with anyone, it will be someone single. For the record.”
“Well, Penn is single. And I’m sure there’s a reason for that, but I’m also sure there’s a remedy that some woman will find. And that woman, whoever she ends up being, will be lucky.” She narrows her eyes. “I’ve known that boy for a long time, and there’s so much good in him. He just needs to be polished up a bit.”
“Good for him. But I’m only interested in polishing up myself, whatever that means. I just . . .” I rest my head against the chair. “I guess I feel like a relationship shouldn’t be so much work. I mean, I get that you have to put in effort and compromise and all that, and I’m okay with it. I want to do those things. I just don’t want to have to expend so much energy polishing up someone else that I’m on the back burner. Again.”