I don’t answer right away. My mouth is dry and my pulse races.
He drops his hand and my brain reconnects.
“I…um…”
Honestly, I’ve been avoiding him coming out because the last time he saw my work he said it was uninspired and ugly. I’m afraid that if he thinks that again, even without his memories, that it’ll be especially true. I doubt he’ll say those things, but I’ll be able to tell what he thinks by the look on his face. And I’m scared. Because even more than what Gran says, or Diedre, or the kids, or a stranger, for some reason, I really, really care what Gavin thinks.
If he says he doesn’t like it, I might not have the wherewithal to keep believing in my art. It’s funny that he could have that much power after only knowing him for two weeks.
“It’s okay. Go on then.” He nods at the door and gives me an encouraging smile. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”
I step back toward him, study his earnest expression, and then hold out my hand. “Come on.”
He gives me a surprised look that quickly turns happy. “It’s my charm, isn’t it? You can’t resist my smile.” He flashes a grin and I let out a quiet huff of delight.
Then he grasps my hand and stands. “I’ll get dressed.”
I yank my hand away, because I suddenly realize that Gavin sleeps in boxers and nothing else, and he is…
He’s just as good-looking as I remember from the peep show I got after his shower. Except now, the bruises are gone and even in the dark I notice even more details. Like the definition in his abs, and the trail of hair leading down to his length, which is currently…hard.
I clear my throat and feel the flush working its way down my neck. “Go ahead.” I wave my hands and turn away.
I hear the rustling of clothes, smell the woodsy, soapy scent of him, and try my darndest to get the dizzying lust I’m feeling under control.
“All set.” His voice is deep and rumbly and it scratches over my skin and makes me shiver.
I nod and turn back to him. He’s in his usual outfit, an old flannel, and too-big jeans, but it doesn’t take away from his attractiveness. He smiles at the expression on my face, grabs my hand and leads me out the door.
I let him, avoiding the loose floorboards so the squeaks don’t wake the kids. He shuts the door quietly behind us and then pulls me across the grass, like he’s been taking me out to the studio for years.
The stars are shining, the night bugs are making a racket, and I can smell dew in the air. Gavin squeezes my hand, “No wonder you come out this early. It’s as if we’re the only people in the whole world.”
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” I look up at the sky, strewn with glass stars.
“You can wake me up for this anytime.”
I smile at him, then lead him to the old stone barn.
Yesterday, Gavin showed me a bit of himself. He left himself vulnerable and open. I should do the same. I’ve not told him the truth about who he is, but I can be truthful in other ways. I can tell him the truth about me. Then he can decide what he wants to do with that.