Why Not Tonight
Page 31
“No, a movie. Batman & Robin. It was out in the nineties. I haven’t seen it.”
“I’ll download it for us, if you’d like.”
“I would. Tomorrow for sure.” She picked up the bat mason jar. “I’m going to have to put together a schedule to get everything done on time. I don’t want to be rushing at the end. So many flowers a day or maybe a week.”
“What’s the appeal with the project? I thought you enjoyed creating your mixed-media pieces. Are you going in another direction?”
She studied him for a second before standing and kissing him. “You’re sweet and so naive.” She touched a finished flower. “I’m getting paid to do this.”
“You have a job at the gallery.”
“I have a part-time job at the gallery. That’s my choice and Atsuko always lets me figure out my hours. There’s one week a month where I have to be in the office more because we’re paying the artists and doing bills and inventory. The rest of the time, I work maybe twenty hours a week. That almost keeps me in mac and cheese.”
He didn’t like the thought of her struggling to get by, but sensed he wasn’t supposed to say that.
“You use the rest of your time for your art,” he offered instead.
“Yes.” She lightly kissed him again, her gentle touch arousing him a lot more than he would guess she suspected.
“I don’t mind struggling for my art, so to speak,” she continued. “I have it better than most. I’m selling fairly steadily at the gallery. My prices are going up, so yay. These flowers will go in my portfolio and they’ll pay my rent for the next two months. That makes me happy.”
He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. Unexplained feelings battled inside of him. He supposed if he had to pick just one, it would be shame.
He’d never once had to struggle. Not financially. He was a Mitchell—son of the great Ceallach. Doors had been opened to him before he’d been born. There was an assumption that what he created was brilliant. All he had to do was not screw up too badly.
But what about Natalie? He wanted to write her a check for a few hundred thousand dollars and change her life. He wanted to tell Atsuko to sell her work for twenty times the price. He wanted to fix the problem. Only he couldn’t. It wasn’t his right and she wouldn’t want him to.
“I’m happy you’re happy,” he said, careful to keep his tone upbeat. He kissed her one last time, then released her. “Don’t work too late.”
“I won’t.” She smiled. “Tomorrow for sure.”
“It’s a date.”
“Will there be sex?”
Blood froze in place before heading to his dick. “I’d like that.”
“Me, too. Dinner, sex and a movie.”
Did she have to keep talking about it? He was getting harder by the second. The next twenty-four hours were going to be hell.
“Count me in,” he told her, and started for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You will.”
By the time Ronan made it up the mountain to his house, he was marginally less aroused. As long as he didn’t think about Natalie too much, he might make it through the night without too much pain. He let himself inside, but instead of heading to the kitchen or his study, he walked through to the hallway leading to his studio, then went into the storeroom he’d had built.
After flipping on the light, he looked at the shelves and tables, all filled with his finished work. There were dozens of pieces, maybe over a hundred. Some were small enough to fit on the palm of his hand while others stretched nearly to the ceiling. There were abstracts, animals, people, plants and creatures that had never existed outside of his imagination.
Some were promised to Atsuko. They had a plan to release various collections over time—a way of keeping his work in the public eye while he worked on larger commissions. But others were simple things he’d made because he’d seen something in his head and had needed to get it out. And here they sat.
He walked down one aisle and up the other, passing various creations. He’d never much thought about his personal inventory—why it existed or what he should do with it.
He paused by a display of flowers and thought of how Natalie was spending her evening—working hard so she could pay the rent. He picked up one of the glass blossoms. He could easily get ten thousand dollars for a single flower—how fair was that? How ridiculous?
He hesitated, thinking he could also drop it, shattering it into a million pieces, and what would it matter to anyone?
Natalie wouldn’t do that, he told himself. She would sell it or use it for something, but she would never destroy it. He could learn from that.
He turned slowly, taking in the collection of his work, and knew he couldn’t just let it sit here gathering dust. He had to do something with it. Something Natalie would respect.
He walked up and down again, this time taking pictures with his phone. When he’d chosen a dozen pieces, he sent Atsuko an email, telling her he wanted to talk. A dozen pieces for a dozen charities, he thought. They could auction them off or whatever. Use the money to make a difference.
Before he left the storeroom he returned to the display of flowers and picked out a black one in honor of Natalie’s wedding project. That one he would give to his girl.
* * *
NATALIE CAREFULLY FILED the receipts. She had to pay extra attention because she was a little tired from her date night with Ronan. As promised, there had been dinner, sex, the movie and then more sex. She hadn’t gotten much sleep, but was hardly in any condition to complain. Not when Ronan did those delicious things to her body.
She picked up an invoice for one of his pieces and opened the file cabinet drawer devoted to him and his work. While Atsuko kept her records digitally, she liked to have a paper backup. Natalie checked the item sold, then searched for the correct file. She found it up front and pulled it out to add the invoice. It was only when a second folder fell to the ground that she realized she’d grabbed two by mistake. The second one contained his personal information, including his address, tax ID info and his birthday.
Natalie quickly closed the folder—she didn’t want to pry—then opened it again and looked at his birth date. It couldn’t be right—she must have read the date wrong. Only she hadn’t. His birthday was next week! How could she not have known that?
She put the folder back in the file drawer and continued her work all the while trying to figure out how that information could have not been public knowledge. She knew when Nick’s and Mathias’s birthdays were. Not that anyone made a big fuss but she usually created a custom card and brought in a cupcake. Something she’d never done for Ronan because she hadn’t known the date.
When she finished her filing, she went back to the work studio. She happened to know that Ronan had a video conference call with a gallery owner in London that morning, something he would do from home, which meant she could talk to his brothers without him knowing.
She found Nick sketching at his desk while Mathias polished the edges of a new light fixture he’d made the previous day. They both looked up when she walked into the studio and said, “We have to talk.”
“Sure,” Nick said easily. “What’s up?”
“Ronan’s birthday. It’s next week. I never knew the date, so I haven’t ever made him a card or anything. We should do something.”
“I’ll download it for us, if you’d like.”
“I would. Tomorrow for sure.” She picked up the bat mason jar. “I’m going to have to put together a schedule to get everything done on time. I don’t want to be rushing at the end. So many flowers a day or maybe a week.”
“What’s the appeal with the project? I thought you enjoyed creating your mixed-media pieces. Are you going in another direction?”
She studied him for a second before standing and kissing him. “You’re sweet and so naive.” She touched a finished flower. “I’m getting paid to do this.”
“You have a job at the gallery.”
“I have a part-time job at the gallery. That’s my choice and Atsuko always lets me figure out my hours. There’s one week a month where I have to be in the office more because we’re paying the artists and doing bills and inventory. The rest of the time, I work maybe twenty hours a week. That almost keeps me in mac and cheese.”
He didn’t like the thought of her struggling to get by, but sensed he wasn’t supposed to say that.
“You use the rest of your time for your art,” he offered instead.
“Yes.” She lightly kissed him again, her gentle touch arousing him a lot more than he would guess she suspected.
“I don’t mind struggling for my art, so to speak,” she continued. “I have it better than most. I’m selling fairly steadily at the gallery. My prices are going up, so yay. These flowers will go in my portfolio and they’ll pay my rent for the next two months. That makes me happy.”
He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. Unexplained feelings battled inside of him. He supposed if he had to pick just one, it would be shame.
He’d never once had to struggle. Not financially. He was a Mitchell—son of the great Ceallach. Doors had been opened to him before he’d been born. There was an assumption that what he created was brilliant. All he had to do was not screw up too badly.
But what about Natalie? He wanted to write her a check for a few hundred thousand dollars and change her life. He wanted to tell Atsuko to sell her work for twenty times the price. He wanted to fix the problem. Only he couldn’t. It wasn’t his right and she wouldn’t want him to.
“I’m happy you’re happy,” he said, careful to keep his tone upbeat. He kissed her one last time, then released her. “Don’t work too late.”
“I won’t.” She smiled. “Tomorrow for sure.”
“It’s a date.”
“Will there be sex?”
Blood froze in place before heading to his dick. “I’d like that.”
“Me, too. Dinner, sex and a movie.”
Did she have to keep talking about it? He was getting harder by the second. The next twenty-four hours were going to be hell.
“Count me in,” he told her, and started for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You will.”
By the time Ronan made it up the mountain to his house, he was marginally less aroused. As long as he didn’t think about Natalie too much, he might make it through the night without too much pain. He let himself inside, but instead of heading to the kitchen or his study, he walked through to the hallway leading to his studio, then went into the storeroom he’d had built.
After flipping on the light, he looked at the shelves and tables, all filled with his finished work. There were dozens of pieces, maybe over a hundred. Some were small enough to fit on the palm of his hand while others stretched nearly to the ceiling. There were abstracts, animals, people, plants and creatures that had never existed outside of his imagination.
Some were promised to Atsuko. They had a plan to release various collections over time—a way of keeping his work in the public eye while he worked on larger commissions. But others were simple things he’d made because he’d seen something in his head and had needed to get it out. And here they sat.
He walked down one aisle and up the other, passing various creations. He’d never much thought about his personal inventory—why it existed or what he should do with it.
He paused by a display of flowers and thought of how Natalie was spending her evening—working hard so she could pay the rent. He picked up one of the glass blossoms. He could easily get ten thousand dollars for a single flower—how fair was that? How ridiculous?
He hesitated, thinking he could also drop it, shattering it into a million pieces, and what would it matter to anyone?
Natalie wouldn’t do that, he told himself. She would sell it or use it for something, but she would never destroy it. He could learn from that.
He turned slowly, taking in the collection of his work, and knew he couldn’t just let it sit here gathering dust. He had to do something with it. Something Natalie would respect.
He walked up and down again, this time taking pictures with his phone. When he’d chosen a dozen pieces, he sent Atsuko an email, telling her he wanted to talk. A dozen pieces for a dozen charities, he thought. They could auction them off or whatever. Use the money to make a difference.
Before he left the storeroom he returned to the display of flowers and picked out a black one in honor of Natalie’s wedding project. That one he would give to his girl.
* * *
NATALIE CAREFULLY FILED the receipts. She had to pay extra attention because she was a little tired from her date night with Ronan. As promised, there had been dinner, sex, the movie and then more sex. She hadn’t gotten much sleep, but was hardly in any condition to complain. Not when Ronan did those delicious things to her body.
She picked up an invoice for one of his pieces and opened the file cabinet drawer devoted to him and his work. While Atsuko kept her records digitally, she liked to have a paper backup. Natalie checked the item sold, then searched for the correct file. She found it up front and pulled it out to add the invoice. It was only when a second folder fell to the ground that she realized she’d grabbed two by mistake. The second one contained his personal information, including his address, tax ID info and his birthday.
Natalie quickly closed the folder—she didn’t want to pry—then opened it again and looked at his birth date. It couldn’t be right—she must have read the date wrong. Only she hadn’t. His birthday was next week! How could she not have known that?
She put the folder back in the file drawer and continued her work all the while trying to figure out how that information could have not been public knowledge. She knew when Nick’s and Mathias’s birthdays were. Not that anyone made a big fuss but she usually created a custom card and brought in a cupcake. Something she’d never done for Ronan because she hadn’t known the date.
When she finished her filing, she went back to the work studio. She happened to know that Ronan had a video conference call with a gallery owner in London that morning, something he would do from home, which meant she could talk to his brothers without him knowing.
She found Nick sketching at his desk while Mathias polished the edges of a new light fixture he’d made the previous day. They both looked up when she walked into the studio and said, “We have to talk.”
“Sure,” Nick said easily. “What’s up?”
“Ronan’s birthday. It’s next week. I never knew the date, so I haven’t ever made him a card or anything. We should do something.”
