Page 57 of Built to Last
“I regretted saying it as soon as the words left my mouth, but I was too angry to take it back. I treated you like another Malcolm and you are theoppositeof him in every way.”
“I promised to be there for you and, no matter how good my intentions were, I broke that promise. I really was planning to tell you before Blake showed up.”
“I believe you.” Taking a deep breath I continue, “You should know that I spoke to him. Blake, I mean. About the art show.” Phillip’s eyes widen in surprise and he sits up a little straighter.
“Yeah?” He tries to keep his expression and voice neutral but the hopeful lilt to his question gives him away.
“Yeah. He tried to talk to me on your parent’s porch but I wasn’t ready to hear anyone out yet.” I smile sheepishly. “Once I got home and cooled off, I realised how much I messed up. With both of you, but especially you.” My throat tightens with emotion and Phillip squeezes my hand in encouragement. “Anyway, I thought it through and decided I owed it to myself to hear what he had to say.” I take another calming breath then let it out in a whoosh as I blurt, “I’mgoingtodotheshow.”
“Did you just say…?”
“I’m doing the show,” I confirm with a nod. “Are you mad?”
“Mad? Why would I be mad?”
“Because I flipped out at you over the very thing that I have now agreed to do anyway?”
“You had every right to be angry when you thought I was going behind your back,” he replies firmly. “Are you sure this is what you want though? I don’t want you to feel like I’m pushing you into it. I’ll love you just the same if you do this or if you never sell a painting ever again.”
My heart stutters to a stop and my breath catches in my chest.
“You love me?” I croak out, surprised.
“I think I’ve been half in love with you since you first yelled at me in the supermarket. Getting to know you over the past few weeks, it’s only made me love you more,” he answers earnestly.
“So, it took me yelling a second time to finish the job?” I tease and he laughs. It’s only been a couple of days but I have really missed that sound. I’ve missedhim.
“Apparently, but let’s not go for a third time,” he jokes.
“Agreed.” I nod with mock-seriousness before the silliness of the moment fades away to a rawness that is simplyus. “I love you too, Phillip.”
“Yeah?” He lifts our clasped hands to brush a gentle kiss across my knuckles.
“Yeah.” My quiet, almost reverent response acts like a match to a firework—sparks of desire, and hope, and joy lighting up between us. Phillip tugs me onto his lap and captures my mouth in a claiming kiss.
His tongue tangles with mine in a rhythm that drives me wild. My hands grasp at his flannel shirt, pulling him closer. His length hardens beneath me and I shift my weight to grind down on him. Suddenly I’m falling forward onto Phillip’s leanly-muscled chest as he loses his balance and lands with a sharp exhale on the concrete floor. My hands fly up to protect the back of his head just in time and I narrowly avoid cracking my forehead on his chin.
A beat of silence passes before we both burst into laughter. The deep, musical sound washes over me and I tuck my face into the crook of his neck as I giggle.
“Maybe the garage isn’t the best place for this,” I say, making Phillip snort with laughter from where he lies sprawled beneath me, hands resting on my hips.
“Clearly,” he replies, one chestnut-brown brow raised, his cornflower-blue eyes dancing with mirth. I shift my weight back to rest on his thighs before grabbing his large hands in mine, helping him sit up. Our foreheads rest against each other as we take a moment to breathe and collect ourselves. My jade gaze meets his and I press a soft kiss to his lips.
“I love you,” I say.
“I love you too. Let’s go to bed.”
Epilogue
Rose
Two months later
I’ve made a terrible mistake.Until this exact moment, I was unaware that my palms could sweat so much. Now I’m anxiously rubbing them on the skirt of my dress because I’m at my first gallery show and I’m freaking out. Up until yesterday, I felt confident about the pieces I selected, about the quality of my work, but from the moment I woke up this morning nerves have taken control of my entire body. I’ve barely eaten all day and now my empty stomach churns as I watch more well-dressed people filter through the open glass doors and into the large industrial-chic space.
The turnout is huge, more than I ever imagined, and even includes some press. The doors have been open to the public for nearly half an hour but I can’t bring myself to move from the balcony I’ve been hiding out on.
“How are you feeling?”
