Page 29 of A Gift of Time
Caden nodded and turned back to it. “It doesn’t work. But that doesn’t make it any less beautiful.”
After giving it one final look, he walked over and sat beside me, leaving less than a foot between us.
“So, Jack Taylor,” he said after taking a sip of his wine. “Tell me about yourself. Why do you love the advertising business?”
I fucking loved the way he said my name. My dick stirred, and I shifted as I adjusted myself.
“Not exactly sure,” I answered, looking from the fire to Caden’s eyes that were like a fire of their own—blue embers that scorched my soul, forever marking me as his. “When I was a kid, I loved commercials. Yeah, I know that’s nuts, but I did. I’d watch each one and wonder how they were made. Then, I started paying more attention to billboards when I left the house and how stores set up their displays.”
He smiled as I talked, and I had to force myself to stay focused instead of getting lost in his eyes again.
“One time,” I continued, “I even told a man in a store that his display was all wrong, and that he’d never sell the newPower Rangertoy if he didn’t change it. I was six or seven, I think. The display was hidden behind a column or something, if I remember correctly, that made it difficult for people walking into the store to even see it.”
“Did he tell you to piss off?” Caden asked with a snort.
“No, he actually listened to me,” I said, grinning when he gave me a disbelieving look. “Not even bullshitting you. He switched that display with one for a not so popular toy that was more in the center of the store. Like a week later, I went back with my dad, and the man thanked me. He’d sold out of thePower Rangerstoys and had to order a new shipment. I guess it was around that time when I thought about doing it more when I grew up.”
Caden had loved when I told that story—the first time—and he seemed to love it now as well.
“Wow. That’s impressive,” he said. “I knew I wanted to be a designer when I was around eleven. My grandma passed away, and my mom fixed up her house so it could be sold. The wallpaper was outdated and the paint on some of the walls was caked with nicotine from all the cigarette smoke throughout the years.”
I knew the story already, but I listened and tried to give no indication that I did.
Hearing Caden’s voice as he spoke filled me with longing, and for the thousandth time since my stupid wish came true, I cursed myself for ever being so fucking dumb and not realizing that I’d had the most important thing right in front of me all along.
“Mom stripped the wallpaper and put primer on the walls before deciding what color to paint them,” Caden continued after sipping more of his wine. “During the process, she asked me for my opinion a lot. I fell in love with it; the process of choosing color schemes and decorations, taking something outdated or frumpy and making it new and appealing.”
His eyes reflected that love as he spoke of it.
“After we finished with Gram’s house,” he continued, “I asked Mom if I could re-decorate our house, too. Before too long, I was collecting home and décor magazines, cutting out pictures I loved and hanging them on my wall. My days were spent sketching furniture and houses.”
“You turned your obsession into a profession,” I said.
“Basically,” he agreed with a laugh.
The doorbell chimed, and I set my wine down.
“Food’s here.” I answered the door and paid the delivery man—giving him a generous tip—and brought our food to the table.
Caden joined me, bringing some silverware, and we sat down to eat.
Over dinner, he told me more about his childhood: his favorite subjects in school, hobbies, and funny stories about his mom. He was an only child, and his dad hadn’t been around, so it’d been just him and his mom. They had an incredible relationship, and he said she’d been one of his best friends. She still was.
Even though I knew a lot of his past, I found myself rediscovering things I’d forgotten about him.
Falling in love with him all over again.
After we ate, I put the leftovers in the fridge and asked Caden if he wanted more wine. I was enjoying his company, and I hoped he was enjoying mine. Sitting with him by the fire sounded like a perfect night to me.
Just anything that let me spend more time with him.
“I’d love some more,” he said, holding his glass out. Once I filled it, he sat in the same spot on the couch he’d been in earlier. He concentrated on the fire and a peaceful expression crossed his face. Peaceful and maybe reflective as well. “Do you ever wish you could go back and redo the past?”
The seriousness of his question, and the tone of voice he’d asked it in, caught me off guard.
“What do you mean?” I asked, filling my own glass before joining him on the couch.
Blue eyes shifted to me. “If you could go back to a certain moment when you did something and prevent yourself from doing said thing… would you?” he asked, dropping his gaze to the glass in his hands. “Something that would save you so much heartache.”
