Page 44 of Infatuated as They Come
“But your job is taking up all your time. You didn’t come to New York to look after me, right? I can look after myself. You should be able to do the things you want too, the things you enjoy.”
“Honestly, I like working. I like the people there. And then when I’m done for the day I get to be with you,” he murmured, pulling me in close so that my head rested against his chest. “I get to see your pretty face and know it’s all worth it.”
“Just quit and let me pay rent.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“’Cause.”
“I’m a bad girlfriend if I make you go to work and not let you focus on the stuff you love doing.”
He laughed, his chest vibrating against me. “You’re not a bad girlfriend. And you don’t make me do anything. Iwantto work. I told you that I like it. It’s a good place for me.”
I sighed deeply. “You really like it there?”
“I like it a lot.”
“But what about the program? Wouldn’t it be so nice to have your stuff in a gallery with everyone to see? The closing date is so soon. Why don’t you just apply and see what happens? The website says they’ll get back to you in just a couple weeks.”
“I don’t mind just painting for myself, Holly. I don’t need a bunch of people to see my stuff. All that matters is that I get to come home to you.” His fingers stroked at my hair, the feeling so gentle and soothing it made my eyes close. “And if I get to come home to you for the rest of my life, I promise I’ll be happy forever.”
“Why do you have to be so honorable and annoying?” I mumbled.
Chuckling, he kissed the top of my head. “Don’t worry about this thing. I can paint in my own time. Don’t need some studio to do that.”
A knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts, and I felt Sawyer move from under me. “Oh,” I said. “I ordered food.”
“I’ll get it.”
We ate dinner together while I rested my head on Sawyer’s chest, talking about our days. My focus kept going in and out, though, because all I could think about was how much he was giving up for me. The only reason he needed to work was because he needed the money and the only reason he needed the money was because he was too stubborn to ever let me pay for anything. A job should have been the last thing on his mind when he possessed all of that talent.
My fingers were itching to just grab my laptop and apply for him. If he could just check it out, maybe for a day or two, then he’d see how good it was, how he’d have the freedom to paint and do what he loved. All he needed was a little test drive, and then he’d get it.
A couple hours later, we were climbing into bed. Sawyer’s arm instantly wrapped around my waist as he held me against him, my back to his chestand his nose nuzzling into my neck as he murmured out an, “I love you.” He fell asleep first, and even more guilt washed over me knowing he was so tired. My hand squeezed at his on my waist. He did so much for me…
Stretching out my other hand as carefully as I could so I wouldn’t wake Sawyer up, I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and brought up the studio website. I was back on the application page a second later. The form was relatively short; they just wanted some basic details: name, address, birthday (which I had to guess), and a section to attach at least five photos of art. I had a photo of almost every last one of Sawyer’s paintings on my phone, so I picked a bunch before hitting the submit button.
What was the worst thing that could happen?
Turning around, I cuddled up against Sawyer’s chest. He groaned softly and rested a hand on my waist, keeping me close to him. He deserved good things, for him to have the opportunities guys like him were never given. Art meant a lot to him and he always put so much love and thought and skill into everything he made.
He deserved to have everyone see that.
* * *
It was still dark out when I woke up.
The air was icy and I scooted forward, trying to find my boyfriend, but all I got was an empty spot on the bed. The room instantly felt colder at that. I was just about to sit up to see what time it was, my vision all fuzzy and blurry, when I felt a soft hand on my shoulder guide me back to the mattress.
“Go back to sleep, princess,” Sawyer murmured.
I frowned, blinking harshly. “What time is it?”
“Early.”
“How early?”
