Why Not Tonight
Page 51
She and her friend chatted for a few more minutes, then hung up. Natalie looked at the clock and knew she had an entire afternoon to fill. The past couple of days, when she finished in the office, she’d simply gone home, but she couldn’t avoid the studio forever. There’d been a disaster, but no one was hurt and her next piece would be even better. The only way to get over her disappointment was to move on.
That was as much of a pep talk as she could manage, so she forced herself to her feet and walked across the parking lot to the studio.
The building was closed and dark. She knew Ronan was working from home and she wasn’t sure where Mathias and Nick were. After unlocking the door, she stepped inside and turned on the lights.
Nothing looked all that different than it had before. All the workstations were just as messy. The huge oven still sat in the far corner. She turned toward her area and saw the big easel was empty, which made her wonder where her canvas was. There was no way the guys would have thrown it out. She’d just assumed it would be waiting for her, all big and burned and ugly.
She looked around the studio but didn’t see it anywhere. She went into the storeroom and saw it leaning up against the far wall. Her heart stopped as she relived the horrifying moment of the first flames consuming her beautiful flowers. The sound of the canvas hitting the concrete floor replayed in her mind over and over again.
But even as the sound filled her mind, she couldn’t help noticing the damage wasn’t total. The top of the canvas had suffered the most and the flowers were burned down to the glue, but at the very bottom they were barely touched and three butterflies were intact. The flowers in the middle had scorched and burned petals, the black contrasting with the vivid colors she’d chosen for her piece. There was, she had to admit, a savage beauty to what was left.
She carried the canvas to her workstation and set it on the easel, then walked back and forth as she studied the canvas. While it still hurt to see the destruction, a part of her knew there might be other possibilities.
She ran her hands across the flowers. Burned bits fluttered to the ground. She did it again, faster this time, until all the loose pieces were gone. The flowers at the top were totally denuded. She would have to do something there for sure. And while she’d always thought she was only going to work with paper on this one, maybe not. Maybe it was time to add something else to the mix.
She dragged her supply cart close and began pulling out drawers and setting them on her desk. Buttons, she thought. Metal. She needed metal. More flowers on the top, but maybe not out of paper. Fabric might be better, with a huge butterfly dominating the middle.
She worked until her back and arms ached. When she finally stopped it was after six and she was exhausted. She hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since that morning, but none of that mattered. Not when she looked at what she’d done.
From the ashes, she thought. In this case, literally. She still had a lot to do, but she could see where she was going. The flowers were the base, but now there was so much more. There was dimension in the piece. Determination.
Her crushed heart opened and joy rushed in. She wasn’t broken or even beaten. She’d regrouped and she would be fine. As for the canvas in front of her...with a little time and love, it would still be her best creation ever.
She put away her supplies, then left the studio, careful to lock the door behind her. She got her bag and went to her car. Nearly a half hour later, she pulled up in front of Ronan’s house. He met her at the door, his gaze questioning.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She stepped inside, dropped her bag on the floor, then raised herself on tiptoe and kissed him.
“Let’s go do it,” she whispered.
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” he said, pulling her down the hallway.
A quality she could totally respect in a man.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“I’M NERVOUS,” NATALIE WHISPERED.
Ronan pulled into the driveway of Mathias’s house and parked behind a rental car. “We’re alone in my truck. You can talk in a normal voice.”
“I’m practicing for the dinner party later.” She worried her lower lip. “What if they don’t like me?”
“Nick, Mathias, Pallas and Carol already like you. The rest of the family will feel the same.” He smiled at her. “Besides, what’s not to like?”
Her eyes brightened. “That’s true. I am pretty likable.”
She was. They’d spent the last twenty-four hours at his place. They’d made love, cooked, flown paper airplanes off the upstairs landing and she’d talked about how she’d taken what had been trash and once again created something wonderful.
He didn’t know how she kept moving forward, no matter what happened to her. He’d seen her pain and devastation when her artwork had caught fire. He’d felt sick and horrified on her behalf—because he would never want to hurt her. But he’d never felt that loss himself. He knew if some glass creation was destroyed, he would make another, or pull something out of storage. He’d always had so much—it was difficult to want for anything.
Around Natalie, for the first time, he began to see he could do better. Like what he was doing with the art classes. He was excited about the possibilities and how he might, in some small way, influence a child. What could be more important than that?
He looked at the house on the edge of the animal preserve. It was a big, sprawling place. Mathias had bought it after Ronan had purchased his place up on the mountain. Until then, they’d shared a rental. Ronan had been the one to break away, to create the first crack in their relationship.
No, he thought, determined to be honest. There had been plenty of cracks below the surface. His moving to the mountain had simply been the first that everyone could see. He’d been unable to deal with what their father had told them, so he’d escaped the only way he knew how. Over time, the distance between the brothers had gotten bigger.
Things were different now. Better. He was healing—he could feel it. He wasn’t there yet and he knew he could slip away if he wasn’t careful, but for now, he was connecting with his family, and Natalie was the reason.
He got out of his truck, then walked around to her side to help her down. She stared at the big house.
“You’re all rich, aren’t you? In my next life, I’m going to be rich, or at least well-off. Just to try it. I think it will be fun.”
“You have a different kind of richness,” he said, putting his hand on the small of her back and guiding her toward the front door. “It’s part of who you are and you never have to worry about losing it.”
She looked at him. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. Thank you.”
He kissed her. “You’re welcome. Now brace yourself.”
“I’m braced.”
He knocked once, then opened the front door and walked inside. The open foyer led to a big living room and dining room. The sound of conversation came from beyond, in the family room.
“We’re here,” he called.
Mathias and Carol came out to greet them. Carol hugged Natalie. “This is going to be so great. I didn’t even try to cook—the thought of it was too intimidating. We’re being catered and there’s nothing to worry about. Oh, and I have wine.”
Natalie laughed with her friend. “You are the perfect hostess.”
That was as much of a pep talk as she could manage, so she forced herself to her feet and walked across the parking lot to the studio.
The building was closed and dark. She knew Ronan was working from home and she wasn’t sure where Mathias and Nick were. After unlocking the door, she stepped inside and turned on the lights.
Nothing looked all that different than it had before. All the workstations were just as messy. The huge oven still sat in the far corner. She turned toward her area and saw the big easel was empty, which made her wonder where her canvas was. There was no way the guys would have thrown it out. She’d just assumed it would be waiting for her, all big and burned and ugly.
She looked around the studio but didn’t see it anywhere. She went into the storeroom and saw it leaning up against the far wall. Her heart stopped as she relived the horrifying moment of the first flames consuming her beautiful flowers. The sound of the canvas hitting the concrete floor replayed in her mind over and over again.
But even as the sound filled her mind, she couldn’t help noticing the damage wasn’t total. The top of the canvas had suffered the most and the flowers were burned down to the glue, but at the very bottom they were barely touched and three butterflies were intact. The flowers in the middle had scorched and burned petals, the black contrasting with the vivid colors she’d chosen for her piece. There was, she had to admit, a savage beauty to what was left.
She carried the canvas to her workstation and set it on the easel, then walked back and forth as she studied the canvas. While it still hurt to see the destruction, a part of her knew there might be other possibilities.
She ran her hands across the flowers. Burned bits fluttered to the ground. She did it again, faster this time, until all the loose pieces were gone. The flowers at the top were totally denuded. She would have to do something there for sure. And while she’d always thought she was only going to work with paper on this one, maybe not. Maybe it was time to add something else to the mix.
She dragged her supply cart close and began pulling out drawers and setting them on her desk. Buttons, she thought. Metal. She needed metal. More flowers on the top, but maybe not out of paper. Fabric might be better, with a huge butterfly dominating the middle.
She worked until her back and arms ached. When she finally stopped it was after six and she was exhausted. She hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since that morning, but none of that mattered. Not when she looked at what she’d done.
From the ashes, she thought. In this case, literally. She still had a lot to do, but she could see where she was going. The flowers were the base, but now there was so much more. There was dimension in the piece. Determination.
Her crushed heart opened and joy rushed in. She wasn’t broken or even beaten. She’d regrouped and she would be fine. As for the canvas in front of her...with a little time and love, it would still be her best creation ever.
She put away her supplies, then left the studio, careful to lock the door behind her. She got her bag and went to her car. Nearly a half hour later, she pulled up in front of Ronan’s house. He met her at the door, his gaze questioning.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She stepped inside, dropped her bag on the floor, then raised herself on tiptoe and kissed him.
“Let’s go do it,” she whispered.
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” he said, pulling her down the hallway.
A quality she could totally respect in a man.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“I’M NERVOUS,” NATALIE WHISPERED.
Ronan pulled into the driveway of Mathias’s house and parked behind a rental car. “We’re alone in my truck. You can talk in a normal voice.”
“I’m practicing for the dinner party later.” She worried her lower lip. “What if they don’t like me?”
“Nick, Mathias, Pallas and Carol already like you. The rest of the family will feel the same.” He smiled at her. “Besides, what’s not to like?”
Her eyes brightened. “That’s true. I am pretty likable.”
She was. They’d spent the last twenty-four hours at his place. They’d made love, cooked, flown paper airplanes off the upstairs landing and she’d talked about how she’d taken what had been trash and once again created something wonderful.
He didn’t know how she kept moving forward, no matter what happened to her. He’d seen her pain and devastation when her artwork had caught fire. He’d felt sick and horrified on her behalf—because he would never want to hurt her. But he’d never felt that loss himself. He knew if some glass creation was destroyed, he would make another, or pull something out of storage. He’d always had so much—it was difficult to want for anything.
Around Natalie, for the first time, he began to see he could do better. Like what he was doing with the art classes. He was excited about the possibilities and how he might, in some small way, influence a child. What could be more important than that?
He looked at the house on the edge of the animal preserve. It was a big, sprawling place. Mathias had bought it after Ronan had purchased his place up on the mountain. Until then, they’d shared a rental. Ronan had been the one to break away, to create the first crack in their relationship.
No, he thought, determined to be honest. There had been plenty of cracks below the surface. His moving to the mountain had simply been the first that everyone could see. He’d been unable to deal with what their father had told them, so he’d escaped the only way he knew how. Over time, the distance between the brothers had gotten bigger.
Things were different now. Better. He was healing—he could feel it. He wasn’t there yet and he knew he could slip away if he wasn’t careful, but for now, he was connecting with his family, and Natalie was the reason.
He got out of his truck, then walked around to her side to help her down. She stared at the big house.
“You’re all rich, aren’t you? In my next life, I’m going to be rich, or at least well-off. Just to try it. I think it will be fun.”
“You have a different kind of richness,” he said, putting his hand on the small of her back and guiding her toward the front door. “It’s part of who you are and you never have to worry about losing it.”
She looked at him. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. Thank you.”
He kissed her. “You’re welcome. Now brace yourself.”
“I’m braced.”
He knocked once, then opened the front door and walked inside. The open foyer led to a big living room and dining room. The sound of conversation came from beyond, in the family room.
“We’re here,” he called.
Mathias and Carol came out to greet them. Carol hugged Natalie. “This is going to be so great. I didn’t even try to cook—the thought of it was too intimidating. We’re being catered and there’s nothing to worry about. Oh, and I have wine.”
Natalie laughed with her friend. “You are the perfect hostess.”
