Page 64 of Painted in Love

Now, as he looked at her, waiting, she felt they might fall into place, despite all the things that were still a mess. “The truest love there is,” she whispered.

Suddenly, though it seemed as if neither of them had moved, they were in each other’s arms, kissing with lips and tongues and their whole bodies. It was unlike any kiss that had ever come before. Because this one was honest and pure and sexy all at the same time.

She heard clapping and stepped back to see the lovers applauding and smiling for them. Then the two men wrapped their arms around each other’s shoulders and strolled off down the road, renewed by that brief display of love.

Clay drew her to the front stoop of her Victorian and pulled her down beside him. She smelled so damn good. She tasted even better. Better than his memories of everything they’d done together. “I came down on you for what you didn’t tell me, but I played just as big a part in nearly destroying everything between us.”

“No, you didn’t,” she said immediately, taking the blame when Clay knew it lay equally with him.

He squeezed her hand. “You told me all along you wouldn’t reveal San Holo’s identity. I just wouldn’t accept it. But what I’m talking about goes back to my family. I never told you about my parents.” He’d told her Gareth’s history, Dylan’s history, but he’d never talked about his own. “They died when I was a freshman in high school. They were trapped in an avalanche while skiing.”

She stroked his arm. “I’m so sorry.”

He kissed her knuckles in gratitude. “They left behind a lot of debt, and Dane and Ava had to take care of the rest of us.” He smiled, thinking of all they’d done. “But in a way, my brother and sister were like helicopter parents, sacrificing themselves to do everything for us. They did all they could to help us reach our goals. If we hurt, they wanted to fix it. Ultimately, I did the same thing with my artists, needing to fix everything for them. Not that what Dane and Ava did was bad. They were the best, and I’ll always be grateful to them. But I wanted to emulate them. Until you showed me how wrong that was, that I had to let people grow. Ava and Dane, even though they looked out for us, they still let us grow.”

Saskia gazed up at him with all her love in her eyes. “You did the very best for your artists. You weren’t bad for them. You provided workspace, materials, sales support.”

He shook his head gently. “I don’t think what I did was bad. But you taught me a better way, and I’m grateful for that. But let me get back to my parents. Dane and Ava made sure we had everything we needed because our parents never did.” His chest felt suddenly constricted. “Their love was so exclusive that it could contain no one else, not even us. I thought that’s what love was supposed to be like. Exclusive. Consuming. And totally transparent about everything. That’s why I’ve always avoided it. I had so many goals that I couldn’t let love get in the way. Then I met you.”

She looked at him with tears brimming in her eyes. “And I met you.”

“You changed everything,” he whispered and caressed away the single tear that slid down her cheek. “I believed you were supposed to love the way my parents did, giving everything to that other person, holding nothing back. That’s why I was so angry when you didn’t share who you were and everything else about yourself. Because it meant you couldn’t possibly love me.”

She gripped his hand. “But really, that was all about me. Not you.”

Three guys trooped down the street, probably to get breakfast, and she whispered, “We’re making a spectacle out here.”

“We’re not,” he said. “But I wouldn’t care if we were.” Then he told her more. “I was wrong for revering the way they loved. I can see now how unrealistic my parents’ love really was. I actually think it was obsession, and that’s not good. Love needs to be inclusive rather than exclusive. You have to let your family in, especially your kids. You have to let your friends in. You can’t be everything for that other person. It’s impossible.”

Another tear trickled down her cheek. He kissed it away as she whispered, “But I wasn’t inclusive with you at all.”

He clucked his tongue. “What should I have expected? I didn’t tell you about myself either. I would have, but we haven’t even known each other that long.”

She smiled gently. “Long enough to fall in love.”

He cupped her face. “Yes, long enough to fall in love. But not long enough for us to learn everything about each other. I didn’t give you time to do that. I pushed and pushed to find out who San Holo was. That made you nervous. I made it all about what I wanted instead of what you needed.”

She put her fingers to his lips. “I should have trusted you before I slept with you. I did it all backward. But truly, I was going to tell you yesterday before Hugo had that press conference. I had no idea he’d ever do something like that. I’d only just learned he was in town.”

“I believe you were going to tell me.” Then he had to ask, “Why do you think he did it?”

She dropped her head into her hands for a moment before looking at him again. “I was twenty-two, and my art wasn’t making huge waves, but I was getting some recognition. Then I met Hugo. I thought he was wonderful.” She sniffled, and he heard the regret in her tone. “He was a fairly important artist then, and he felt like my mentor, praising my art, telling me how big I was going to be. I thought he loved me, that he meant every word. Maybe he did. We were together five years, and I was gaining greater fame as the artist Lynx.”

He gaped, couldn’t help it. “You’re Lynx? Not Hugo Lewis?” She’d said Hugo had stolen her art. But what he’d actually stolen was her name?

“Yes. I was Lynx.” Her jaw tensed, her teeth grinding with her feelings about Hugo Lewis. “He acted as my manager. I let him take care of everything so I could paint. Adrian didn’t like it—” She gasped. “Oh, I didn’t tell you that Adrian’s been my best friend since we were sixteen.”

“You are British.” Clay allowed himself a chuckle. At least he’d been right about something. But there was so much they had to learn about each other. He would love every new discovery.

“Yes. Both of us came here five years ago, after Hugo.” She’d obviously wanted to start her life over. “I practiced sounding like any other street artist in San Francisco. Very American,” she said with a smile. “Anyway, Adrian never said what she truly thought of Hugo when I was with him. If she had, I probably wouldn’t have listened. Lynx began earning big. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, Hugo told the press that he was Lynx.”

“That ass,” he said on a hiss.

“Believe me, I’ve called him worse.” Her eyes were dark with all the things she’d called him. “But I couldn’t say anything. No one would’ve believed me. They all thought I was just a hanger-on of the great Hugo Lewis.” She closed her eyes and hugged herself the way Clay wanted to hug her.

Her pain over what Lewis had done raked through him like hot coals. He burned with anger, with the need to hold her, to make everything better. But that’s what he’d always done—tried to make everything better. What she needed right now was for him to listen.

“Hugo broke my heart,” she said on a whisper of breath. “I didn’t know how to fight him. I just wanted to run away. Adrian suggested we should get away from the Hugo Lewis show and visit her aunt in San Francisco. Then we decided to stay.” She sighed. “Maybe I should’ve left London long before that. Gotten away from my parents.”

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