The Genius and the Muse (23 page)

“Do you like my tattoos?”

“I have to fight the urge to trace every single one of them with my tongue,” she said as she continued snapping pictures. ”What do you think?”

He grinned. “I think you shouldn’t fight the urge. And you’re trying to turn me on again.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s such a challenge.” She laughed and continued capturing frame after frame of his intricately decorated skin. They were both silent as she worked, and he drifted in and out of sleep.

“What should I wear to this thing?” he asked, clearing his throat a little.

“Sadly, clothes.” She muttered something unintelligible about angles and shadows.

“Not kidding, Katie.”

She frowned when he rolled over to look at her. She shoved him back. “Neither am I—hold still. Wear whatever. I don’t care. It’s on the water, and it’ll be cool when the sun goes down, so maybe bring a jacket.”

Shaking his head, Javi marveled at how accepting she was of his intrusion on her privileged world. He’d met her parents weeks ago at a dinner Chris and Dee hosted for Kate to celebrate the completion of her degree. The Mitchells were understandably wary of the man twelve years older than their daughter, who she’d jumped into a relationship with after breaking up with her boyfriend of four years. Javi’s brusque demeanor, scores of tattoos, and background in East L.A. probably didn’t help, either.

“Roll over to the side… there.” He shook his head and let her move his arms to a different angle.

“How much long—”

“Shhhh.”

Javi had to give Dee and Chris a lot of credit for making him sound nicer than he actually was. Shannon Mitchell, being the good Irish mother that she was, was somewhat comforted by the fact Javi had been raised a staunch Catholic and still saw his mother regularly. Derrick Mitchell seemed more impressed by Javi’s background working at his father’s auto body shop than by the sculptures he had seen downtown with his name on them.

“Almost… oh, wait, let me try this filter.”

“Kate, I am not a prop.”

“Well, you kind of are.” She placated him with a kiss on his rough cheek. “Only
my
prop, though.”

Despite the months they’d been together, Kate’s father still watched him with clear suspicion. Considering the thoughts Javi entertained about the man’s daughter almost constantly, he couldn’t really blame him.

Javi knew that Kate’s parents had nothing to worry about. Though his surly demeanor hadn’t altered, he was absolutely crazy about their daughter. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d been happier, even though he still couldn’t figure out why she wanted to be with him. He sure as hell wasn’t going to argue with her about it, even though she was cute when she was pissed off. For Kate’s sake, Javi hoped her parents would eventually see how much he admired and respected her, but he wasn’t going to worry about it. Kate seemed content, and since she was the only one Javi gave a shit about, that was all he really needed.

“Just letting you know, I think the douchebag will be at the barbecue with his mom and dad,” she said as she continued snapping pictures.

Javi immediately rolled over, despite her protests, and pulled her on top of him.

“Hey!”

“Oh really?” he asked with an evil grin, his eyes lighting up. “The douchebag?”

“He’s not even worth your time.”

He set her camera carefully to the side, making sure not to smudge the lens. He turned back to her and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I know, but it’s the principle. I’ll make sure to wear something that shows off my ink. He’ll probably think I’m in a gang… yo.”

She rolled her eyes and pinched his shoulder. “Whatever you want to do. Honestly, when he sees you, he’ll probably pee his pants no matter what you wear.”

“That’s always nice to hear.”

“You know…”

He frowned. “What?”

Kate reached up, and her fingers traced along his jaw, which was covered with three days’ worth of stubble.

“I don’t even think about him anymore. I was more embarrassed than hurt by him cheating on me.”

Javi shrugged. “His loss, my gain. All that shit.”

Her mouth curled into a smile, and she leaned down to kiss him before she laid her head over his heart.

“My gain,” she whispered.

Javi felt his throat catch for a second, and he ran rough hands down the length of her back. “Our gain.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Crestline, California

September 2010

S
am stared at the black and white pictures littering her refrigerator. Most had come in the first six months after she moved back to California, though Reed would still send her one occasionally. They weren’t accompanied by a note, but she always knew who had taken them. He never took landscapes or cityscapes for work, but he’d taken pictures of most of her favorite places in the city to send to her in California.

Looking now, Sam realized that there was a small piece of Reed in each of the frames.

One had the toe of his black boot sticking into a picture of her favorite bench in Prospect Park. One caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass door of her morning coffee shop in Williamsburg. But the one she stared at now had arrived in the mail six months after she had left and right before Reed’s messages got angry.

It was a picture of their bed in the apartment; the white sheets were rumpled in the morning sun, and his long arm stretched across the empty space where she had once slept. His hand was clutching the sheets. For the first time, Sam felt like she truly grasped what he’d been trying to tell her, though she was too distraught to understand at the time.

Sam reached up and pulled the picture off the fridge, touching the hand in the picture and wishing she had the real one to hold. If what Kate said was true, they had wasted years. And if what Kate said was true, Sam was determined to find her way back.

She heard the doorbell ring, and set her glass of water and the picture down to go answer it. She was expecting a delivery of oil paints to arrive that day and was glad UPS was early.

When she opened the door, she choked and stumbled back, stunned by the familiar face standing on the other side of the screen.

It was Reed.

Her eyes drank him in as she clutched the door. His dark hair was short, though it still curled at the tips. His mouth was set in a serious line, and his hands rested nervously in the pockets of his jeans as his foot tapped on the porch.

“Hi,” he whispered.

She gaped, unable to speak, and a barrage of memories overwhelmed her at the sound of his voice.

He was the cocky boy smirking at her from a couch.
“You’re looking at me like you’re imagining me naked, so I thought you might be, well… imagining me naked.”

The desperate man waking from a fevered dream.
“Am I dreaming?”

A tender lover with his hand on her shoulder.
“I love you.”

An agonized partner in a cold hospital room.
“I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

Reed frowned, fidgeting on the front porch, but Sam was still frozen in shock, holding her arms around her body as if to keep herself from flying apart.

He spoke again. “So obviously, this is a surprise. I, um… I don’t really know what I’m doing here.” He sighed. “No, that’s not true.” He scowled and his hand reached up to grab the back of his neck. “You see, I got a note from a certain grad student we both know.” He paused for a moment, continuing when he saw that she still couldn’t speak. “Want to see it?”

He didn’t wait for her response, but reached into his pocket to pull out a folded piece of notebook paper. He carefully unfolded and spread it open, holding it so Sam could see it through the screen door. There were only five words:

She still has the picture.

Sam’s breath caught in a quiet cry as she read the note, and she felt tears prick the corners of her eyes. Her hands touched the paper through the screen, and she looked up at Reed’s face, familiar, yet still changed by the years they had been apart.

He cleared his throat and stared down at his shoe as it kicked a loose nail on the porch. Her fingers itched to reach through the door and smooth the lines that time and stress had etched around his eyes.

“I guess I just need to know why you still have it, because…” He paused for a moment before continuing in a low voice. “I lost mine. I mean… I destroyed it. See, once upon a time, I didn’t realize what I had. And I lost the right light for a minute. In one very foolish moment, I tore up something that meant everything to me.”

Sam’s mouth formed his name, but she still couldn’t find her voice.

Reed cleared his throat before he continued. “So, I tried to tape it up, but I could only find scraps. And the scraps didn’t make much of a picture.”

Fat tears rolled down her face, and Sam leaned forward to push the screen door open. Reed stepped back and let her walk out. His eyes were red and glassy, and his voice was soft as he watched her.

“I found the painting you started. I kept that. I hung it on the wall in the studio, even though it’s not finished. But I can remember, you know? Fill in the rest when I look at it hard enough.”

Reed lifted a tentative hand to touch her cheek, and his fingers traced the line of her jaw. “And it’s beautiful, Sammy, but I miss the real thing. And when I got this note, I thought maybe I could see it again.” He swallowed audibly before continuing in a hoarse whisper, “Or maybe just—”

“Reed,” she finally choked out. Sam reached for his hand, brushing her tears away before she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist. He caught her, holding tightly as she soaked up the feel of him. She felt like she could breathe again.

“I missed you so much,” he whispered.

He held her as her tears stained his shirt. Sam didn’t try to hide them. She just clutched him tighter, letting her tears wash away the years of separation. Finally, Reed picked her up and carried her to the steps of the old porch. He sat down and Sam straddled his lap, still clinging to him. His arms held her as her tears slowed and the tension drained from her body.

He wiped his own eyes on his shoulders, never letting his arms leave her waist. Sam sniffed, exhaling shaky breaths into his chest. Then she allowed herself to bury her face in his neck and breathe in the scent of him. Soap. Sweat. The unique and familiar smell of his skin. Home. Even after all the years apart, Reed still smelled like home.

“I’ve always had that picture,” she said. “Always.”

His callused hands lifted to frame her face as his eyes drank her in. Reed kissed her forehead, and Sam closed her eyes and smiled. Working his way down, he kissed each eyelid, the swells of her cheeks and the tip of her nose. He tilted her head so his lips could place soft kisses along her jawline leading toward her ear.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I never stopped. Please, believe me.”

She reached her hands up to weave her fingers with his own. “I never stopped either. I love you so much.”

Their mouths met, their bodies entwined, and their lips moved against each other as if they had never been apart. She ran her fingers up his neck to stroke his hair, pulling him closer, gasping a little as his mouth left hers to taste her neck.

“I missed you,” he whispered as her eyes closed in pleasure. “So much. Every night. I dream about you every night.”

She pulled him even closer and whispered between hungry kisses, “Some days, I felt like I could hardly breathe.”

Finally pausing to catch his breath, Reed leaned his forehead on hers, caging her in his arms. “We have to go back. My life? It wasn’t… it just
wasn’t
.”

Sam shook her head and smoothed the lines between his eyes.

“We can’t go back, Reed. Even as much as we both want to.” She continued quickly when she saw his look of panic. “But I think—I think maybe we can move forward.”

Part Eleven: The Mirror

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Pomona, California

November 2010

“
H
e’s not boring.”

“He’s completely boring, Kate.”

“No, he’s not. He just has better manners than you.”

Javi scowled at her. “You like it that I don’t have manners.”

“I don’t
like
it. I just like you. The fact that you have no manners is kind of unimportant, except when you’re talking to my mother.”

He shrugged. “I’m nice to the people who matter.”

Kate snorted and reached her hand across the seat to smack his thigh. Javi grabbed it and pulled her small hand to rest on his lap. “You know,” Kate started, “if it hadn’t been for Professor Chris, I wouldn’t have ever met you, Javi.”

He stared at her for a long moment. “Fine. I’ll be nice, but you’ve got to stop calling him Professor Chris. It sounds weird. He’s Chris. Boring Chris.”

“Does Boring Chris make Wonderful Dee happy?”

Kate knew Javi had a huge soft spot for the tiny photographer, and she saw his hard expression relax in the intermittent light of the street lamps.

“Yes,” he muttered.

“Okay then. Just be polite.”

“Kate?”

“Mmmhmm?”

“Are Chris and Dee our ‘couple friends’ now?”

She had to hold back her snort when she saw his lip curl. Instead she plastered an innocent look on her face. “I don’t know. Are we a couple?”

His head swung around and his eyebrows drew together in a frown. “What the hell?”

“I don’t know. We’ve been… whatever we are, for four months now, but you’ve never asked me to be your girlfriend.”