Page 14 of Kiss Me, Darling

Scott was still smiling and humming as he wandered over to speak with Trent. He pulled down some wood and carried it to the register, all while smiling and chatting. I knew he said he was a different person butdamn.Scott was a different person!

“Paint’s all done,” Annie announced.

“Is he always like that?” I pointed at Scott.

“What do you mean?”

“Happy?”

Understanding washed over her face. “Ah. No. When he first started coming in here he was pretty quiet. Grumpy. But for the last few weeks he’s been all jokes and conversation. It was like he turned a corner. Whatever brought him here...he finally let it go.”

He finally let it go.A new man. Happy. Humming. Smiling. I was starting to believe all of this was real and not some temporary fantasy.

Scott appeared beside us with a trolley. “All ready?” He began loading the paint before Annie answered.

“Sure is. Good luck you two. If you need anything else, you know where to find me.”

Scott grinned—full Hollywood smile and dimples. “Are you suggesting we might screw this up?”

She laughed. “I’ve seen your other work.”

“I’m more experienced now.”

“You keep telling yourself that.” Then she leaned closer to me. “He’s truly awful at painting. Watch out!”

* * *

Annie was not exaggerating.Scott was...well, he was a mess. He had paint in his hair, on his clothes, all over his hands, and that was just him. Explaining the amount of paint not on the wall would take too much time.

“If you roll the tray like this,” I demonstrated moving the roller over the grooves in the paint tray several times, “it removes the excess paint.”

He frowned. “But don’t I want the most paint possible? So I don’t have to come back and reload the roller as much?”

I pointed to the rivers of paint on the wall and drop cloth. “You’re just wasting it. Here, watch me paint this section.” I loaded the roller and then painted a V on the wall, rolling up and down, back and forth, until the paint began to run out, then I returned to the tray, reloaded the roller, and repeated the process until the wall near the window was fully painted.

I was not about to let Scott near the window.

“Huh. That is a lot smoother. And the paint is more even and looks nicer.” He turned back to his section of the wall that was caked with drying paint. Then he grabbed a dry roller and began taking the top layer off, smoothing it out until it somewhat resembled my section of the wall.

Still smiling and happy despite not doing it perfectly.Huh.

“So you and your brothers seem really close.” They were always friendly. Trading texts and regular phone calls. Keeping in touch despite high profile careers and all the time and space separating them. They’d come visit us—usually one at a time—or we’d go visit them, but aside from a few holidays, I’d never seen them all together for a long period of time.

From the looks of things, they were closer than ever.

Scott focused on painting as he spoke. “Ben’s mostly let me be a bum, hanging around his work without doing a whole lot. Chris has been so busy, and even when he’s home, he’s with Olivia and Linc. But, I don’t know, there’s something about just being in the same place that’s changed things.” He snuck a glance my way as if he were curious as to my thoughts.

“It shows. In all three of you.”

He turned back to the wall. “I think the real turning point for me was when Linc helped Chris prank me.”

“Sunflower seeds?”

“You know it.” His full smile returned. “I just...more than any time before, I could see how serious I was. Unnecessarily serious. Here was this kid, giggling so hard his entire body was shaking, and here I was angry about it. What the fuck? What was all that anger doing for me? The punishing? All it served was to make me miserable, alone.” He set the paint roller down and turned to face me.

I realized only then that I was standing still with a paint roller in the air, listening intently to every word out of his mouth. I still didn’t move. I couldn’t. I was using all my power to absorb each detail. The words he used, how he used them, the look in his yes, what each breath meant.

“All my creativity was gone.” He spoke to me like he was pleading with me. Eyes locked and sincere, hands gesturing with his words. “I read all the scripts you sent me and not one excited me. Nothing sent fire through my veins and got me thinking about pulling on the skin of some other life, another adventure. If all these negative thoughts were taking me away from the people I loved and ruining the work that is so much a part of me, then what was the point to anything? I could let all that darkness eat me alive or I could shut it out and get back to living and creating. The answer was so clear I couldn’t ignore it any longer. So that’s where I’m at.”

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