Four Day Fling(77)
I squeezed him tight, and he did the same to me before he nudged my chin up and kissed me.
“Is that a yes?” he asked against my lips.
I kissed him again. And again. And again.
“That’s a yes.”
EPILOGUE – POPPY
Happily Ever After
ONE YEAR LATER
“I don’t like this,” I grumbled as Adam tugged me along the hall with a blindfold over my eyes. “I can’t see where I’m going.”
“That is kind of the point, Red.”
“Is this what living together will be like? If so, I want a refund.”
“You can’t. Avery already moved in with Warren and your apartment already has a tenant.” He laughed.
Without the gift of sight, that laugh was spine-tinglingly delicious.
Damn it.
“I can find another apartment.”
“On an artist’s wage?”
He had a point. I, myself, was pretty broke. Mostly because I refused to touch the inheritance my parents had finally released to me when I’d made the choice a month ago to quit my job and paint full-time.
I thought I was taking the moral high road. Adam used it to blackmail me into living with him, because once Avery moved out, I couldn’t afford the rent if I wouldn’t touch it.
All right, so it wasn’t blackmail, but it was a very well-thought out argument that I had nothing to counter with.
That was a habit he had. I didn’t like it.
“Shut up,” I said.
“Okay, stop.”
I walked right into him.
“I said stop, Poppy.”
“I stopped, Adam. Technically.”
He sighed. “You’re making this very hard work.”
“You did not know what you got yourself in for when you decided to date me for real, did you?”
“I wish I could argue that point.”
“I warned you and you didn’t listen.”
“Great. I’ll make that a house rule. ‘Listen to Poppy.’”
“Hey, that’s valuable advice. Everyone coming here would do well to pay attention to it.”
“Noted. Can you stop talking now so I can show you?”
“Show me what?”
“The thing I’m hiding from you,” he said slowly.
“Is it food?”
“Why would it be food?”
I shrugged. “It’s lunchtime. I’m hungry. Food is plausible.”
“Poppy.”
“Yes?”
“Shut. Up.”
I mimed zipping my lips.
Adam moved behind me and untied the blindfold. The light of the hall was a shock to my eyes, and I had to blink several times before they adjusted, and I no longer felt dizzy.
Focusing, I looked in front of me. “Uh, that’s a door.”
“You’re on fire today,” Adam quipped.
I shot him a look. “Why did you blindfold me if the door is shut?”
He opened his mouth, then stopped.
I raised my eyebrows.
“Shut up and open the door,” he muttered. “Damn it.”
I laughed and reached forward for the door. The handle creaked as I pushed it down, and a bubble of nervous energy tickled my stomach as the door opened.
The first thing I noticed was the doors. Big, huge sliding doors made up the wall at the end of the room, flooding the space with natural light.
The next was the easel.
Then the tables.
The stools. The storage. The paints. The brushes. The pencils. The pens.
And the poppy I’d painted on the wall.
“What is this?” I whispered.
“This is your studio,” Adam said, stepping up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist. “As charming as it is to wake up to you painting in your underwear at the kitchen table, I figured you’d want a space where you can paint without pants on without scaring any guests.”
“One time, Adam, and I didn’t know anyone was going to be here.”
He laughed. “But still. The doors give you all the natural light you need. All this paint stuff is yours, but there’s a ton of storage for you to fill with everything. And all the space on the walls to display stuff. You can literally sell your paintings online right from here.”
He’d even set a computer up in the corner.
“Oh wow,” I whispered. “And there’s a coffee machine!”
“For the times you forget to make coffee before you come in here.”
“Again, that was one time.”
“Poppy, one time encountering you on a morning without coffee is one time too many.”
I elbowed him, but it was true.
I spun in his arms and hugged him tight. Adam kissed the side of my neck as I whispered, “Thank you, thank you,” over and over in his ear.
I broke out of his arms and darted around the room, taking in everything. Running my fingers over the new worktops for me to cover with paint. Brushing the stack of different sized canvases, looking at all the sketchbooks, both new and old. Staring out of the huge doors that opened onto the back patio and looked out at the greenery in the huge backyard.
It was perfect. It was everything I’d ever wanted in a studio—and I didn’t even know I wanted one until I walked in here.