But moving in, he circumvented a big crate, which probably meant Sadie was taking more pieces away.
And that was when he saw it.
He stopped dead with two puppies squirming in his hands.
And he took it in.
Life-size, a man made of steel. Some small sheets and triangles, but mostly ribbons and straws of it forming a body, head, face and hair.
The eyes, though, looked to be smooth aquamarines.
The figure was in a deep squat, one knee bent, his other almost, but not quite, on the ground.
His arms, though, were straight up.
And suspended precariously on rebar you could see running through the ribbons of steel that made up his body, his fingers were wrapped around the waist of a woman made of concrete.
And she was soaring.
Over his right shoulder, one leg front, one leg behind, her back, neck and head arched, arms out to her sides.
Him.
And Hattie.
“Your mom had a client meeting tonight,” her voice came from behind him.
He turned.
She stood there leaning against the crate in her work clothes, cutoff jean shorts and a tank, ratty old red Keds that were serious cool, her hair in a big bunch on the top of her head, curls dropping down the sides and around her neck.
No makeup.
Total pretty.
Her gaze went to the puppies in his hands, then to his eyes.
And she kept talking.
“She didn’t trust these little guys alone in her new condo with her new furniture as Welly is being stubborn about house training and she’s a pushover about not putting them in their crates because Molly hates the crate. So I told her they could come to the studio. I need to drop them off on the way home.”
His voice was gruff when he stated, “I told her the breed was stubborn.”
“No, you told her they were stubborn and sloth-like,” she corrected.
“Because that’s what the website said,” he reminded her. “She’s committing to hopefully a couple decades with these things.” He jostled the fur balls that were wriggling in his hands. “She needed to know what she was in for.”
Her face changed.
Fuck.
So goddamn pretty.
“Sometimes,” she said softly, “it doesn’t matter. If a being is precious, even the bad parts are parts you need.”
He swallowed.
And his voice was downright rough when he asked, “What’s that?”
She knew what he was asking when her eyes went beyond him to the sculpture.
But they came right back to him.
“You. And me.”
Good Christ.
Good Christ.
Fuck.
The puppies kept squirming.
Axl kept hold on them.
“I don’t hold you up, baby,” he said softly.
She tipped her head to the side. “You don’t?”
“No.”
She looked beyond him.
“Well,” she said to her sculpture, studying it as if attempting to decipher it. “I suppose one take is that he’s holding her up. Another is he helps her soar.”
Good Christ.
Good Christ.
He bent and put the dogs down.
They scampered.
Welly right to Hattie.
Molly disappeared behind some chunks of stone.
Hattie kept talking.
“Sadie saw it today when she brought her guys to do some crating. They helped me mount her. She weighs a ton. Not literally. But close. She looks strong, but she’s hollow. Though, only in the literal sense, not figuratively. Figuratively, she’s just delicate.”
Jesus.
She was killing him.
“Please come here,” he said.
She didn’t come there.
She went on, “She wants it for the show. Sadie does. I said I have to ask you.” She looked at him again. “Is it okay it’s in the show?”
“That’s your call,” he told her. “Now, please come here.”
She looked back to the piece. “I think, if Sadie has the space for it, it should be in the show. Kind of before, with all the other stuff, and after. You know, a then and now. That’s its title, by the way. ‘After 2.’ There’s after Dad. And now after you. The title isn’t original. But it is apropos.”
After you.
“Baby, please come here,” he begged.
She came there.
He pulled her in his arms and shoved his face in her neck.
“It’s not for sale,” he declared to her skin.
“No. I called Dad. He told me he’d keep it in his backyard until …”
She didn’t finish that.
He did. “We get our place and it has its place.”
“Yes,” she said softly.
He lifted his head. “Until then, as you know, I don’t have a backyard. My place butts the fence and the fence butts the alley.”
“I know, but as much as I love your pad, Axl, you can’t raise kids in it. They need their own space. And we’ll need our own space. And your place will really only be just our space until we find a different space when the concept of ‘our’ expands.”
Their kids’ll need space.
And they’ll need space.
His throat felt tight.
“Right,” he pushed through it.
“My mom’s backyard isn’t big enough for it either. Your mom has no backyard. So it’s Dad’s. For now. He sounded kinda excited about it. Even though I made sure he knew eventually, it’d be moved.”