painting?” he asked out of the blue. My eyes cracked open as I looked up at him, already seeing him watching me carefully as he waited for a reply.
I reached down and grabbed his hand, squeezing his fingers and leading him toward the room where the paint was still strong in the air. I probably shouldn’t have loved the smell so much, but I did. It calmed me in a different way.
Theo didn’t let go of me as he stopped and stared at the paintings along the wall, noticing how each one held something strong—an emotion in the way her arms were held high or her body was twisted. When we walked over to the easel to see the final piece, a small breath escaped him. It was hard to watch him study the most intimate thing I’d created. The woman’s face was undoubtedly mine, looking pained and saddened, but freed. The cheekbones, collarbones, and narrowed waistline were the same ones I’d seen in the mirror. The light blue eyes that had darkened with every meal I missed stared back at me, but not in a taunt.
“You never cease to amaze me,” he murmured, focusing on my face. “What are you planning to do with these?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure.” Truthfully, I hadn’t even planned on painting so many. But the first one felt like a step in a direction I hadn’t gone in some time. Then the second one happened. The third. By the fourth one, I knew the collection would have five, and the fifth would have to be the finale that I deserved. The one where I looked out into the crowd with my head held high and my body in the proper position, without flinching or breaking contact from those who stared back and judged my form.
Something broke in my chest, and a wave of ease filled the crevices that once suffocated the organs inside. “I thought about selling them, but I don’t think I’m quite ready for that. So, maybe I’ll keep them. For now, at least.”
“The fact you painted them is powerful,” he told me, cupping my cheek with his palm before giving me a genuine smile. “You should be proud.”
“You always tell me that.”
“I won’t stop.”
Wetting my bottom lip, I try coming up with a sane response to that. The thumping of my heart said more than my words could because I was beyond them when Theo was like this. “Why are you always so…”
One of his brows quirked.
“Perfect?”
He grinned. “I’ve been called many things before, Della, but never that.” Dropping his hand from my face, he looked me over from head to toe before suggesting, “Want to try getting some more sleep? I need to jump in the shower, but I can meet you in bed after.”
The thought of a naked Theo West only a room away had me unsettled. It wasn’t the first time he’d used my shower. Shortly after getting Ramsay, the dog had peed all over him and he had no other choice but to jump in and use my “girly soap” that made him smell like me. I didn’t think he minded as much as he said because he always told me how much he loved the way I smelled like strawberries when he held me against him. Dallas had to bring him clean clothes that day, meeting me at the door with a smile on his face like he thought more was going on. I didn’t correct him, didn’t give him any indication one way or the other.
I hadn’t wanted to.
“Want to watch a movie instead?” I bargained, uneasy about falling back asleep after the last time.
He didn’t seem appreciative of that idea, eyeing me with disapproval. “I want you to try getting some rest. You look tired, Della.”
I frowned. “Gee, thanks.”
I swore he rolled his eyes, but I couldn’t be sure because he turned on me the same time his eyes had moved. “Don’t pretend you don’t know I think you’re beautiful regardless.”
“Beauty is relative.”
“Get your ass in bed, Della.”
“One movie.”
“Della.”
“What about that action one you mentioned wanting to see? The one set in World War Two?”
He sighed.
“Please?” I added despite myself.
A palm swiped down the front of his face and I knew he was going to agree. Reluctantly, he nodded once. “Give me ten minutes.”
I wrapped my arms around his waist. “I would make it twenty. You kind of smell.”
He swatted my butt and grumbled something under his breath that I couldn’t quite make out,