Since I Found You Page 17

  Elana lowers her hand, and her gaze lowers as well. “Good thing. I have a feeling if you got here any sooner, I would have found you both naked.”

  I try to adjust myself so my erection isn’t so obvious, but both women are laughing. “I’m glad I amuse you,” I tell them, grabbing my coffee mug and walking out of the kitchen.

  “Oh, don’t run away,” Elana says, following me. “I’m not planning to stay long, so you can have Whitney pressed up against the fridge with her legs wrapped around your waist soon enough.”

  “Elana!” Whitney smacks her arm.

  “Sorry. That was one of those thoughts I’m not supposed to say out loud.” She shakes her head. “I’m working on that.” She winks at me before sitting down on the couch and opening Whitney’s laptop on the coffee table. “Your website is all set up.”

  “Already?” Whitney asks.

  “Hey, when you’re working for free, you have to work quickly. Why would I waste all my time on something I’m not getting paid for?” Elana smiles as she pulls up the website.

  I have to admit she did a really nice job on it. “You might have a future as a layout editor,” I tell her.

  “Ugh, no thank you. No offense, but the newspaper business doesn’t interest me in the least.”

  “Says the geometry teacher,” Whitney says with a smile before sipping her coffee.

  My eyes fall on her mouth, and I’m dying to taste that hazelnut on her lips again. “So how does this work?” I ask Elana, wanting to hurry this along. I take a seat beside her on the couch, and Whitney sits on her other side so we’re all huddled around the laptop.

  “Okay, well you have your home page.” Elana scrolls to let us see the artwork she chose to display front and center. “Basically it describes what kind of art you offer. Then...” She clicks on the menu bar. “You have an ‘About Me’ page, a gallery for all of your paintings currently on sale, and a ‘Contact Me’ page. It’s pretty simple.”

  “How do people purchase the paintings?” I ask.

  She clicks on the gallery, and there under each painting is a price and a button to pay. “It’s all the standard payment options, PayPal being the primary default option. Once they pay, they enter their address so you know where to ship the item. And yes, shipping cost and sales tax are factored in.”

  “I’d expect no less from the math teacher,” Whitney says. “But where did you get these prices from?”

  “I took the ones you had for the art exhibit. Then I made up a few for the paintings you still have in your art room.” Elana shrugs a shoulder.

  “So that’s it?” I ask. “She’s open for business?”

  “Yup.” Elana claps her hands against her knees. “And now I’m getting out of here so you two can enjoy some alone time.” She stands up, and Whitney hugs her.

  “Thanks, Elana.”

  “That’s what friends are for. Oh, and I emailed you with your site login information.” Elana gives me a small wave before walking out.

  “She’s pretty amazing,” I say, choosing to focus on the positive and not the fact that Whitney needs to do some advertising if she wants to sell her work this way. Eliza is running the story in the paper, but that’s not enough.

  “I’m lucky to have her.” Whitney sits back down, and I expect her to be happy, but her expression is one of sorrow.

  “What’s wrong?” I put my coffee down and take hers from her hands before placing it next to mine on the table. Then I take her hands in mine.

  “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Elana, but I don’t think this website is the answer.”

  “Neither do I if I’m being honest.”

  She looks surprised. “Do you think I should look for another job?”

  “I think you already have one to follow through on.”

  Her brow furrows. “Do you mean writing for the paper?”

  I shake my head. “I’m talking about your art school.”

  She lets out a deep sigh. “Alex, I can’t go through with that. I didn’t sell enough at the exhibit to cover even one month’s rent let alone the supplies needed to start an art school.”

  Looking into her eyes, all I want to do is make this woman happy. I gesture to the laptop. “Maybe the website will help bring in some money. Promise me you won’t back out of this rental agreement just yet. You still have one more week paid for with the mural you painted for Mr. Ambrosi.”

  She laughs, but it’s a sad laugh. “Maybe I’ll spend the week sitting in that space, dreaming about what could have been.”

  “A little dreaming is good for everyone,” I say.

  “Will you excuse me for a second?” she says, getting up off the couch. “I’m going to run to the bathroom.”

  “Don’t run. I’m not going anywhere.”

  She offers me a weak smile before heading to the bathroom.

  My eyes keep going back to her website. She needs a big sale if she’s going to move forward. I pull up the web address on my phone and browse the gallery on her site. Elana posted the painting of my face with Whitney’s reflection in my eyes. I’ve wanted it since I first saw it, much like the way I felt about Whitney. I know I shouldn’t do it, but I can’t stop myself. I click on the buy button. Paying through PayPal is quick and easy, so I use that option. Only I use the account I set up for my parents last year when they wanted to order something on ebay and the seller would only take payment through PayPal. I’ll call them later and tell them I accidentally purchased something on their account, and I’ll write them a check to cover it. In seconds, Whitney has her first sale. A four-figure sale. And she won’t know it came from me because my stepfather has a different last name than I do.

  The bathroom door squeaks as it opens, and I quickly pocket my phone. Her laptop goes into sleep mode, which is perfect timing. I don’t want her to see the sale yet. I want her to be surprised and then completely elated when she sees she now has enough money to pay for the first month’s rent.

  “Sorry. I’m all good now,” she says, joining me on the couch. “Now where were we before Elana showed up?”

  I pull her into my arms. “I think somewhere right about here,” I say before kissing her. She breaks away from my lips and starts kissing my neck. I allow her to pepper my skin with kisses before I brush her hair off her neck and reciprocate with such intensity she moans. Despite my best efforts, she’s tense in my arms, and I know she’s trying to distract herself from what’s really on her mind. I don’t mind providing that distraction. It’s the least I can do, considering I went behind her back and meddled in her life without her approval yet again.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Whitney

  If it had been anyone but Alex, I would be embarrassed by the way I behaved last night. I threw myself at him. I allowed him to keep my mind from focusing on my problems by bringing pleasure to every part of my body. And he never once complained about how selfish I was being. Taking everything he was willing to give me. I roll over in bed and study his face as he sleeps. The blankets are rising and falling with his breaths. Even though I don’t have a job to get up for, I slip out of bed, pull on a robe, and tiptoe downstairs to make coffee for us. He admitted he loved the taste of the hazelnut coffee on me, and the memory of the way he proved that brings a smile to my face.

  After hitting “brew,” I go out into the living room to turn on the news and check the weather. I do it out of force of habit. It’s how I’ve started my days for the past four years, and I’m not ready to break that routine yet. I find it comforting, like my life isn’t completely in shambles. The news station seems to be stuck on an endless loop of commercials, and getting impatient, I reach for my laptop. I have a notification of a sale from my website.

  I click on it, thinking it must be a mistake since Eliza hasn’t even written the story featuring my work or my site yet. No one knows I even have a website. My page view counter shows that several people have viewed the site since Elana showed it to me. I’m surprised but happy to see
that. I click on the message notification and see the order that was placed last night. A Mr. John Harris of Easton, Pennsylvania purchased “Through Your Eyes.”

  My heart races, and I let out a scream I think I’ve been holding back for weeks. I’m still screaming when Alex races down the stairs, looking ready to take out an intruder in nothing but his boxers.

  “What happened?” he asks.

  “I sold a painting!” I say, pointing to the laptop on the table.

  “I thought someone broke in here.” He places his hand on his chest.

  “You have to see this. Elana’s site worked. People have already visited it. Not a lot of people, but that’s okay. I haven’t even advertised it anywhere yet. And I have my first sale. It’s your picture, Alex. Someone actually paid that ridiculous fifteen hundred dollar price tag for it. Can you believe that?” My heart is still pounding when he sits down beside me and reads the laptop screen.

  “Whitney, this is fantastic.” He wraps his arms around me. “I told you people would buy your art. And now you can keep the space on Main Street. You can open your school.”

  I stand up and start pacing the room. “I can. I can’t believe this is happening. I can buy more easels and paint, and I can see if the school will let me put up flyers there since the art program is being cut.” My thoughts are racing through my mind at an insane pace. “There’s so much to do, and I can’t wait to do it all.”

  Alex stands up and hugs me to him. “I’m happy to help with any or all of it if you’d like.”

  Now that he’s offering help instead of taking over, I’m happy to accept. “I’d love that. Thank you.”

  “Hold on,” he says, putting one finger in the air, indicating I should stay here. He disappears inside the kitchen and returns a few moments later with coffee. “I know it’s not champagne, but it is seven o’clock in the morning.”

  “It’s perfect,” I say, taking a mug and drinking some of the hazelnut coffee.

  He does the same, and then he presses his lips to mine. “What do we do first?” he asks.

  I’m so excited I can barely contain myself. “You have to go to work, but I’m going to the space, and I’m going to start painting the walls.”

  He looks at the clock on the cable box. “Ugh, I do have to go to work. Can I meet you on my lunch break?”

  “You know where I’ll be,” I say.

  He finishes his coffee in two big gulps before taking my face in his free hand and kissing me hard. “I’m so proud of you, Whitney.”

  “Thank you, Alex. I wouldn’t have done any of this if it weren’t for you.” I clamp my lips shut before the next thought in my head comes spilling out of my mouth too soon. We’re in a good place now, and I’m not going to ruin it by saying those three words that pack quite a punch.

  “I’ll see you there at noon,” he says, kissing me again before rushing upstairs to get dressed.

  “What color are you painting the walls?” Elana asks as I open the can.

  “It’s called prism. It looks different colors depending on how you look at it. It’s not at all what I had in mind, but when I saw it, I knew it was the one.”

  “I wish I wasn’t stuck at school today. I’d help you get the place ready.”

  “You’ve done enough. It was the website you created that made this possible. Well, you and Alex for pushing me,” I say, balancing the phone between my ear and shoulder as I pour the paint into the pan.

  “So all is forgiven where he’s concerned?”

  “Absolutely. I think we’re on the same page again.”

  “Which means you had sex last night,” she says.

  “That’s not what I meant, but if you must know, yes, we did.” I blush just thinking about it.

  “Okay, well, I can swing by at three o’clock to help.”

  “Sounds great. Alex will be here at noon. Between the three of us, this place will be ready to open next week.” My hand shakes with excitement. “I can’t believe this is happening. I thought my world was ending when I lost my job, but now...”

  “You have the perfect man and the perfect job.” Elana sighs. “It’s good to be you, kid. Hey, that was the bell. I’ve got to run.”

  “See you later,” I say before hanging up.

  I spend all morning painting the walls. When I step back and look at them, they do look like they’re different colors. The light hitting the right wall makes it look gray, while the back wall looks blue, and the left wall looks green. It’s like an optical illusion. I smile as I study it.

  The door opens behind me, and Mr. Ambrosi walks in. “Painting already, I see.”

  “Yes. I’m hoping to open for business next week.”

  “I’m happy to hear it.” He looks happy to receive a check, so I walk over to my purse on the floor by the paint can and retrieve the check for him.

  “Here you go. That’s next month’s rent.”

  “Thank you,” he says with a smile. “I hope it all works out the way you imagine. I’d love to see someone break the curse of this location.”

  “What curse?” I ask with a small, nervous laugh.

  “The location is great, right in the middle of a busy street, but for some reason, every business that has set up here has gone under in a matter of a few months.”

  He’s right. I can’t remember anything ever staying in this location for long. I can’t let the same thing happen to me. “Well, I’m hoping to change that, Mr. Ambrogi.” This city needs art, and I’m going to be the woman to provide it.

  “Best of luck to you, Ms. Stillwater.” He turns and walks out, leaving me to clean up my paints.

  Alex arrives with lunch from Amor Amici’s about fifteen minutes later. “Sorry I’m late, but I made a stop.”

  “Yum,” I say, walking over and taking the bag from him.

  He doesn’t let go. “That’s it? Yum? No kiss for me?”

  I smile and press my lips to his, letting them linger.

  “Yum,” he says.

  I laugh as I take the bag over to the center of the room. “So, what do you think of the color?”

  “Don’t you mean colors?” he asks, looking around.

  “Nope. It’s the same color. The light is just making it appear in different shades. I couldn’t imagine anything better for an art school.” I sit down on the floor, and Alex sits across from me as I remove the containers and plastic cutlery from the bag.

  “I hope you like penne vodka,” he says. “It’s today’s lunch special, and it sounded good.”

  “I love it. Thank you.” I lean over the food containers and kiss him again. He seems reluctant to pull away. “Everything okay?” I ask.

  “Yeah, I’m just disappointed I won’t get to help you paint. You did a great job, though.” He opens his container and starts eating.

  “I’m planning to go purchase the easels and supplies this afternoon. Then I need to print some flyers to put up for my grand opening on Monday.”

  “Monday?” He chokes on his pasta.

  I hand him a bottle of water from the little cooler I brought with me. “Here.”

  He uncaps it and takes a sip. “Sorry. I’m just surprised you’re planning to open so soon.”

  “Why not? I mean, the site worked quickly. I’m taking it as a sign that I need to keep pushing forward.” I fork some pasta into my mouth.

  “Have you gotten any other sales from the site?” he asks before taking another bite.

  “I haven’t checked. I’ve been busy all morning.” I take my phone from my back pocket and pull up my site. No new sale notifications. “No, not since last night.”

  “I wouldn’t let that bother you. It’s still very soon.”

  “Yeah,” I say, but something about the worry in his voice makes me feel uneasy. Did I jump the gun paying the next month’s rent on this place? I’ve only sold one painting on the site, and none of the others are priced anywhere near that high. I’d have to sell several more to equal that one sale.

  I look
around at the space. Maybe it is cursed. Or maybe it attracts people like me with big dreams they can’t really pull off.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Alex

  “Mom, Dad, I’m here,” I call as I open the front door. Buster, their poodle comes running to greet me. Even though I never lived with Buster, he seems to understand I’m part of the family. “Hey, boy,” I say, bending down to pet him.

  “Alex,” Mom says, walking into the foyer to greet me. She takes my face in her hands, her diamond tennis bracelet nearly blinding me in the light streaming through the glass on the front door. Mom and Dad have more money than they know what to do with, which is why I can afford to work at a small paper and work my way up in the business. I have a trust fund to fall back on. Unlike most people my age, I don’t live from one paycheck to the next. And I can afford to drop fifteen hundred dollars on a painting.

  “You should visit us more often, you know,” Mom admonishes.

  “I know. I mean to, but work can get hectic.”

  “Work,” Dad says. “Why do you insist on a job that makes you chase after stories? I told you to go into the family business.”

  “Yes, but you know how I feel about celebrities.” Dad is a plastic surgeon who only has celebrity clients. He flies to remote locations to perform the surgeries, and he’s paid insane amounts of money to never tell anyone who he works on.

  Dad laughs. “Most people would say it was the blood that bothers them, but not you. You hate celebrities. You don’t hate their money, though.” He wags a finger in my face.

  “I try to spend it quickly to get rid of it.”

  “Like purchasing artwork?” Dad asks.

  “Where is the painting?” I ask. Whitney mailed it out on Tuesday, and Mom called me yesterday to say it had arrived.

  “It’s in the study, dear.” Mom gestures for me to follow.

  The house is impeccable as usual, considering Mom and Dad have a live-in maid. Mom can’t stand to have anything out of place. While I love my parents dearly, I couldn’t live this way. I hated it growing up, too. Maybe that’s why I like living in a city that’s so expensive to have so little. My tiny apartment makes me feel normal. My regular job makes me feel normal. But one way I’m not normal is that I don’t need to work. At least not to pay my bills. Though I let everyone believe I’m just like them, working to live. My parents had this rule that while I was living under their roof, I couldn’t touch my trust fund. So I left. I have plenty in the bank to live comfortably until the day I die, but I wouldn’t be comfortable if I wasn’t working like everyone else. Mom and Dad never understood that. Dad loves that he only performs a few surgeries a year, and the rest of the time, he vacations on different tropical islands. I was actually surprised when Mom called and said they would be home today. They usually don’t stay home for very long periods of time.