Dance Away with Me(113)

She pressed her hands together in her lap. “You make me sound heartless.”

“I was furious with you,” he said gently. “Who were you to tell me what I needed?” Wren’s eyelids were growing heavy. He tucked her closer. “I wallowed in self-pity and thought about those sketches. How they didn’t belong. How much I hated them. And then, one night, I didn’t.”

“You didn’t hate them?”

“I finally understood why I was obsessed with them. How they were pivotal to what I want to create now.”

“The warrior?”

“She’s the past. Her size, her boldness. That’s who I used to be as an artist—who I’m proud to be. But the hidden details—the images from the sketches that are right there to be seen or not seen—that’s what’s new, what I’d been missing. Those small, hidden images show the subtleties in life, the parts you have to search for to see. Hiding those subtleties, those details inside big concepts—it makes my heart sing.”

She smiled. “I’m glad.”

“I have so many ideas. What you saw today . . . That’s just the beginning.”

“Quite a beginning. And you didn’t do it alone.”

“Some young artists owed me a favor.”

She gestured toward the cell. “They seem to have gotten away in time, but you’re in jail.”

“I’m not too worried about it.” He propped his foot on the rim of the toilet. “It won’t take long for people to figure out that I’ve made this town a bucketload of money.”

She was still working that through in her head when he went on.

“Tempest, Tennessee, has the biggest Ian North art installation in the world.” He dropped his foot. “It still needs a lot of work, and it’s going to be a bitch to maintain, but it’ll be worth it.”

She understood. “You’ve turned the town into a major tourist attraction.”

“I’m only getting started. It’ll be a mecca for art lovers, and a nice boost to the local economy. But, Tess . . .” Wren startled in her sleep. He set his hand lightly on her chest. “It was also the only way I could think of to send you a big enough message.”

She cocked her head.

“You understood what I couldn’t. You saw all the old baggage I was still carrying around, the crap I’d told myself I’d left behind years ago. But I hadn’t, and you knew that.”

“Childhood scars like those run deep.”

“A lot deeper than I wanted to admit. Being away from you and Wren, going back to my life the way it used to be . . . It became so clear even I couldn’t miss how much fear I was carrying around.”

“A big emotion.”

“Big and ugly.” He moved closer. “You were right. I wasn’t happy when I told you I loved you. I was afraid. You saw that. My cowardice.”

“You aren’t a coward. You were a kid living with a brute of a father, but worse than that, you were living with a mother you loved who looked the other way while you were being abused. How could you trust anyone after that, including yourself?”

He gave her a wan smile. “I understand it now—maybe watching you with Wren. I don’t know. Anyway, I’m done with it.” He gazed at his sleeping child. “I need to tell you up front that I won’t give her up. You’re her mother. I’d never let anyone challenge that. But she’s mine, too, and since you have an innate sense of fairness, I know we can work out the logistics, no matter how complicated they are.”

Once again he’d confused her. “You’re talking about . . . ?”

“It’ll be messy. I understand that. But we’ll figure out what’s best for her. For the three of us.”

“You hate messy.”

He gave a dry, unhappy laugh. “That’s what’s so ironic. Trying to hide from the mess ended up crippling me—as an artist and as a man. Life will never fit into some perfect geometric composition. Of all people, I should have accepted that years ago. Life will always slither over the borders of the frame. It’s going to splash on the floor and spill into the streets. It’s going to feel good and hurt bad. That’s what being alive, being creative, what loving someone, means.”

“So what you said before you left . . . ? About us staying married . . . ?”

“I’m a selfish bastard, but I’m not selfish enough to keep you trapped,” he said grimly. “I know I’m a lot to deal with, and I can’t do that to you. But I’m not giving up Wren, too, and that means joint custody.”

She shot up off the cot. “Are you really trying to weasel out of this marriage? Is that part of your great artistic epiphany?”

“Weasel? I’m trying to do the right thing here.”

“By ditching me?”

“Ditching? I love you! I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. You’re smart and funny and decent, and god knows you’re persistent. You understand me in a way no one else ever has. And don’t get me started about the sex. You’ve turned everything in my life upside down. You set my heart on the course I’ve been searching for as long as I can remember. Tess, you’re an unshakable force.”

“Then why do you want to get rid of me?”