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Quickly turning to see his first batch of pancakes ruined, he laughed. “You are too distracting!”
She gave him a wink as she watched him start another batch, spatula in hand, watching this batch, careful not to burn them. Sliding off the table, she set down the strawberries and went about the task of making a pot of coffee. Before long, they were sitting together at the table enjoying a delicious stack of warm pancakes smothered in butter and syrup. After a few delicious bites, she looked up at Ben with mischief in her eyes.
“So, besides being a sex god, you can cook too?” she asked, her eyebrow raised in question.
Ben nearly spit out his coffee and started to laugh. “I’m glad you are happy with…” he trailed off. “The sex? The food?”
“Both.” she replied playfully, reaching out and wiping a little dab of butter off his beard, then licking it off her finger.
Ben took her hand and kissed her palm affectionately. “I am happy with you.”
* * *
Ever settled in next to Ben on the worn leather living room couch, a thin blanket covering their bare legs. With a hand on his chest, she met his lazy gaze and stretched to kiss his soft lips sweetly. Happy and contented, she sighed as he pulled her into him, his arms enrobing her with warmth.
Glancing behind him to the easel and canvas by the window, he asked curiously. “Have you found your inspiration yet?”
Shaking her head, she followed his gaze and exhaled with resolve. “Not yet. I’m not sure what is wrong with me.”
Meeting her gaze with empathy in his eyes, he kissed her on the head to reassure her. “You will find your inspiration, sweetheart. I am sure it’s there. You just need to find it again.”
She nodded and nestled back into him, quiet falling on them as they held each other. Breaking their revery Ben spoke, “I would love to see the paintings you have done. Do you have pictures?” he asked with genuine interest.
Ever’s head popped up, and she brightened. Excitedly, she slid off the couch and padded into the front entrance retrieving her purse still on the floor. Pulling out her phone, she returned to the couch. Sitting up fully, Ben pulled her onto his lap as she curled up and opened her phone to find her photo gallery. Scrolling down, she stopped and handed her phone to Ben, gesturing for him to swipe left. With interest, he slowly scrolled through her photos and met her anxious gaze.
“Wow, Ever! These are beautiful! You are incredibly talented!” he beamed with adoration.
“Thank you. I am proud of my work.”
Continuing to scroll, Ben stopped on a picture and furrowed his brow. Peeking over the phone, Ever brightened to see which of her paintings caught his attention. “That is one of my favorites! It's the first painting I ever sold.”
The picture was a serene scene in a park, with a white bench and beautiful purple flowers in the background. The painting looked like it was in soft focus, giving it an ethereal, dreamlike quality.
“I’ve seen this painting before.” he confessed, meeting her gaze.
“Oh?” she inquired in surprise.
“Did your dad ever see your paintings?” he asked, his eyes boring into hers.
“Sadly no, I don’t think so,” she replied, regret etched on her face. “I did a few pieces in high school, but I did not start painting seriously until I was accepted into Art School. By the time I left for Toronto, my dad and I were not talking.”
“Follow me,” he said, lifting Ever off his lap and setting her down on her feet. Her phone still in his hand, he rose from the couch and took her hand leading her to the sliding door of her father’s office. “Do you mind?” he asked, gesturing to the sliding door.
“No, go ahead. I haven’t been able to go in there yet,” she confessed.
Sliding the door open, Ben looked around eagerly, zoning in on his target. Facing her father’s desk on the wall near the corner above his favorite recliner was her painting.
Ever cupped her mouth with a gasp. “It’s my painting.” She murmured in disbelief.
Coming up behind her, Ben wrapped his supportive arms around her waist, holding her close to him as they stared at the painting. “I asked him once about it and he said it reminded him of his late wife, your mom. He never told me you painted it, though.”
“He bought my first painting.” She whispered, her voice breaking as tears filled her eyes and spill down her cheeks.
Turning her to face him, she sank her face into his chest. He wiped the tears from her face tenderly as he held her close to him. His warmth comforted her as she cried. Her heart was broken for the years she lost with her father.
CHAPTER 8
It was mid-afternoon and the soft light from the picture window cast shadows on the wall. Ben held her wrapped in a blanket, his arms around her protectively. Her tears had subsided, and they lay together in silent contemplation. It broke Ben’s heart to see her cry, feeling his chest tighten as she let out all the pain and hurt she was carrying. Despite the ache in his heart, he held her and consoled her, knowing she needed his strength right now. Having lost his own parents, he could relate in many ways, but he could not understand the distance that had existed between Ever and her father. Would she ever get answers? He didn’t know. But one thing he did know was that hecould be here for her and help her navigate through this. He kissed away the remaining tears that lingered on her cheeks, and she smiled at him appreciatively. She kissed him softly, her embrace so grateful and tender his heart swelled.
