Page 36 of Portrait of A Lost Artist
He hums for a while, thinking about his answer in a way that has my heart skipping beats. Surely enough, there is interest between us. Kisses that feel like the world could shatter beneath me and I wouldn’t give a damn. Words that are exchanged in between the union of soul and skin. Nathan means something to me, so simple and yet so complicated. Like me glorifying the stars but being unable to count them all.
“My friend taught me this saying,” Nathan starts, poking at her ribcage and earning laughter from aiming at a ticklish spot. “Curiosity killed the cat. Don’t be a cat.”
“Shouldn’t it be don’t be curious?” I prompt in a whisper, only to have Nathan chuckling at my words.
“Okay, don’t be curious.” Even as he speaks to me, Mariana is squirming in his hold, nearly falling from his arms as he plays with her. “Have you eaten?”
“Not a bite.”
“I saved you some empanadas. Everyone was trying to grab them, but I put them in my bag before someone ate them.” With a churning stomach and a touch of hunger-induced dizziness, I nod, watching him set Mariana down and take her hand to lead the way. We switch languages then, only so we can talk more easily and without a kid constantly interrupting us.
“I called Adam. He said everyone was fine. I think you could call Benicio now.”
“I did. We have been texting for a while. He’s okay, too. He hasn’t checked the house because he was out with his friends playing dominoes when it happened, but tomorrow we’ll go see how the place is holding up.”
“Uncle Nate!” Mariana screeches as Nathan takes a seat by a small table.
“Sorry.” He goes back to Spanish, tossing her hair around a bit.
“The title of an uncle fits you.” I retort, only to have Nathan shrugging the slightest.
“The idea of kids is nice, but I’ve never been with anyone seriously enough to ponder the thought. A lot of my friends have kids, though, and Lucy was seven years younger than me...so...” He pats a hand on Mariana’s shoulder, pointing towards where her mom is now standing and calling for her with a crook of her hand. “Seems like your mom is calling you.”
Mariana wraps an arm around his torso, caging her face against his abdomen. “But I don’t want to leave you, Uncle Nate.”
“We’ll meet again soon.” He doesn’t promise her so, but judging by the way they smile at each other, it seemed like they spent a good time together. “Now go. Mom’s waiting for you.”
Mariana does as he says, waddling in her steps when rushing over to her mom’s arms. The two adults exchange a wave before Nathan returns his attention to me. Only then, as I bite on the shredded meat empanadas and relish the sweet but salty taste, do I really get a nice grasp of how Nathan looks like today. He still hasn’t taken off that goddamned pink bow from his hair, but that doesn’t take away from his beauty. The yellow light catches the shine on his plump lower lip, wet from where he’d licked it, and a wave of something familiar washes over me at the sight of the beard beginning to darken his cheeks—a beard he’ll likely shave once he is back home. Gone are his usual bold choices, replaced by a plain black t-shirt from the motel, the soft cotton outlining the muscles I remember seeing on the sand and the way they felt beneath my touch when he welcomed me into the warmth of his sheets.
“Do you want kids?” Nathan asks, only for me to hum.
“Yes, like two.” I respond, though I shake my head almost immediately. “Not now, though. I think I have enough baggage as an adult to know I don’t want to drop it on my children. Gotta get that part figured out first.”
While chewing, I lean forward and unclasp the bow from his hair. The strands, now longer and normally slicked back, fall on his forehead softly, framing his features to be more delicate. A delightful contrast to such a powerful face.
“Totally. I think people forget the importance of dealing with your own thoughts before having a kid.” Running his fingers over the necklace around his neck, his attention caught by the simple arrow pendant he’d bought while we’ve been here, Nathan speaks, a small smile blossoming on his face. “Besides, waiting gives you some more time to practice.”
His words settle within me, perhaps already being colored by the intensity of my wanting. The very idea of “practicing” with him sends a thrill through me. My past taught me that sex and passion were things to be hidden and felt guilty for. But Nathan shattered that darkness the moment I saw him. He makes me feel utterly confident in my skin, embracing my power to both entice and be enticed. We linger in that delicious space of almost-but-not-yet, finding intoxicating pleasure in the unfolding of our connection.
“Practice?” I ask, voice low. If we’re lucky, no one else is hearing us or speaks the language, for the matter. “As in, practice having children?” Nathan’s lips quirk into a smile, a complete grin that breaks out through his cheeks and reaches his eyes. His parted legs extend the slightest; calf coming in contact with the tip of my shoe that graces the skin, uncovered because of the shorts he has been wearing ever since he got here. “Nathan, are you implying something?” I play around, only to have him curl an eyebrow.
“Not a thing, sunshine. I won’t say anything you don’t want to hear.” Though, the images that spread through my brain are ones that I want to hear, feel, live, remember and treasure all for myself. Nathan’s body in the dark, that same smile he has on his face ever-present, hands planted on my waist, lips touching my own in those kisses only he knows how to give. His voice, claiming and lurking for me.
Snickering, I reply: “You’re a damn tease.”
“And you haven’t seen half of it yet.” Those words trail down my spine, straightening it and almost making me choke on my food. “Either way,” Cutting through the dense air between us, Nathan changes the topic. “Your car is still out there. We’ll have to see if it’s working and head back to the city tomorrow. Could you drop me off at Benicio’s?”
“Of course, I wasn’t planning on leaving you here stranded, you know?”
“Well, I just wanted to ask,” Nathan says, standing up and leaning down to press a chaste peck to my lips that lasts a second too short. When I look up at him, he uses his thumb to hold my chin, moving my face from side to side. “Get your mind out of the gutter, sunshine. I can see the gears turning.”
“...You’re judging by your own condition.” My reply hits with equal force, a clear indication that I too feel the same burning attraction taking hold within him.
“Maybe. I’ll get you some juice. Wait here.”
My worry spikes as I watch him walk to the back of the restaurant, near the kitchen. The frantic beating of my heart is relentless, echoing the intensity of the rain during the Havana storm. My mind races, daring to consider Nathan as something more—maybe even a boyfriend. It’s been months since Lorenzo and I ended things, and the idea of moving on feels...surreal. I never imagined it would happen, especially not with someone like Nathan.
I can’t shake the feeling that he’s just passing through, someone who could easily be gone with the sunrise, back to his wealthy existence in the United States. This inherent uncertainty clings to every look, every shared laugh, every act of kindness he offers. I know this has an expiration date, so why isn’t the fear of eventual loss consuming me more?
