Neighbors with Benefits (Anderson Brothers, #2)(61)

“Lemme see,” Blanche said, snatching the paper from her fingers. “Aw, durn. It’s the same photo.”

Mia placed watercolor pallets in front of five chairs and went back to the counter for brushes and water.

“I still like the cartoon one that had him wearing a jacket made of fly paper with all the girls stuck to it. ‘Catching Them Like Flies.’” Gladys laughed and slapped her knee.

After distributing the brushes and water, she returned with paper. “We’re working in watercolor today.”

“Have you heard from him?” Bernice asked, folding her walker and leaning it against the wall.

“No. And I don’t expect to.” She slid the paper in front of each woman and kept one for herself. “Today I want to talk about mood in painting.”

“She’s brushing us off because she doesn’t want to talk about it,” Gladys said.

Mia took a deep breath, “We’ve talked about color reflecting and evoking mood…”

“Yeller is happy!” Gladys said. “It’s why I knit with it.”

“Exactly. But shading and density also set the mood. Pale yellow versus your favorite sunflower yellow, for example, evoke different emotions. So, today, let’s show our mood through shading and density. Watercolor is a great medium for this because you can alter color density by simply adding water.”

“I’d rather knit.”

“I think we should use pottery wheels like in that movie with the hot ghost.”

Mia smiled and dipped her brush, wishing for the escape that painting sometimes brought with it. There were times she would be so lost in her art, everything would blur and all worry would disappear, almost like meditation. Only recently, the escape had evaded her. She could only focus on the pain. She wanted to stop hurting for just a day—a minute—a second.

She closed her eyes and imagined colors without shape. Red and pink and black. Lots of black. And while she knew the B’s were still chatting, she focused only on the colors as her feelings seeped into the paper through the brush. “Art comes from your soul,” her teacher had told her once. Right now, her soul ached.

I miss him.

Part of her wanted to call. To just say hi. The other part knew she’d crossed a line with the things she’d said in anger. She’d been right—he’d let his control freak nature get in the way. But she’d also been terribly wrong. He hadn’t been protecting his image; he’d been protecting hers. The papers had called her the flavor de jour, but she knew Michael, and though he may have had lots of women, she was not like that to him. Even if he didn’t care for her now—and that would be understandable—he had cared for her then.

Only seeing color, and no shape, she focused on her page.

Sometimes you do things because you love someone. He’d been protecting her, not pushing her away. And she’d hurt him. She felt a tear slide down her cheek but ignored it.

She was better now. Stronger than before she’d met him. He’d given her a gift. She knew who she was and she liked that person. No more self-deprecation. No more doubt.

No more Michael.

Her hand stilled and the fuzzy edges came back into focus, including four very concerned sets of eyes all trained directly on her.

“Are you okay?” It was the first time Gladys had ever spoken to her directly.

She set her brush down, wiped her eyes, and nodded. “Yeah. Just kind of got into it a little bit. I do that sometimes.”

“It looks like a square full of bubble gum,” Blanche said.

Betty squinted and leaned closer, then wrinkled her nose. “Bubble gum someone stepped on.”

“Or one of those amoeba things we used to look at under a microscope in university biology.”

Blanche tisked and shook her head. “Bernice, you’re not making any sense at all.”

“Is it a…?” Betty cocked her head, then shook it. “What is it?”

Mia looked down at the page and really saw what she’d painted for the first time. It was completely obvious to her what it was. But then, it was her own broken heart she’d painted.

“It’s loneliness,” she said. “And regret.”

“What’s the black thing?”

The cage I’ve constructed around my heart. “It’s what’s keeping it in.”

Blanche reached across the table and took her hand. “Mia, honey. Listen to me. You need to call that young man up and make this right. Stop letting pride get in your way.”

“It’s not pride. It’s just that he was so bossy and controlling when the photographers showed up, and I thought he was…Well, I jumped to the wrong conclusion and I said some awful things he didn’t deserve.”

“Then apologize.”

“He’s going to have a hard time living down the damage done in the papers. I doubt he wants to see me.”

Blanche set her brush aside. “Honey, that boy’s stock went way up when the photo of you two kissing made the tabloids. You worry about you, not him. You’re a mess.”

“I’ll tell you the truth. If someone had done to me what I did to him, I doubt I’d ever want to see that person again.”

“But this isn’t just someone,” Betty said. “It’s someone you love. Turn the tables here. If he had done the same thing to you that you did to him, would you want to see him again?”