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For the third time in his life, he had absolutely no idea what to do. First with his parents. Then with Francine's health. And now with the woman he loved--and would do absolutely anything for. But she was too damned independent to let him.
Since their tryst in the shed behind the group home, he'd barely let her take a breath without having his mouth or his hands on her. Even if she still wasn't ready to talk to him, he would damn well make sure they didn't sever any of the threads that connected them. She clearly needed time to decide she could trust fully in him, and he was forcing himself to give her that time. He always wanted her, but now more than ever, making love to her until her limbs were jelly and she was hoarse from crying out his name seemed the only way to keep their connection strong.
He worked to shove away the frustration as Charlie returned with the china plates and mugs, one pastry split with her mother and a whole one for him. Francine truly looked as though she was in heaven as she took a delicate first bite.
"Oh my dear, I'll never tire of these." She closed her eyes in rapture. "Your father, God rest his soul, would have gotten fat, wouldn't he, honey?"
Charlie laughed. "He probably would have."
"So does that mean I'm going to get fat if I eat a whole one every time I come to see you?" Sebastian asked.
Charlie merely smiled at him and said, "You'll work off that bun in no time."
She was right. In fact, he'd already burned plenty of calories in the shower with her that morning...with more plans for tonight.
/> The same thought simmered in Charlie's eyes and in her secret, sexy smile. "Come to think of it, maybe I should start working out more often too."
Her mother tsked. "You take after me, honey."
"That's why she's so gorgeous," Sebastian said.
"You're such a shameless flatterer," her mother said with a roll of her eyes and a sweet smile.
When the plates were empty, Charlie put her hand on his arm. "Sebastian, I've got a huge favor to ask."
Her tone was surprisingly serious for the mellow day they'd been having. "Anything for you." They weren't just empty words. It was a promise he planned to keep until the very end. He needed her to know that.
She stared at him for a long moment before rummaging in her enormous bag. Then she pulled out a sketchbook. He glanced from the pad to Charlie's face, his breath tight in his chest. Was she really blindsiding him?
Guilt flickered across her face. But right behind it was determination.
And love.
"It would be great if you'd sketch Mom." She held out the pad and one of his pencils, her hands the slightest bit shaky.
He stared at her offerings for several beats, a hint of anger swirling in his gut. No, not anger. Fear. The two emotions could so easily be mistaken for each other--but if he were totally honest with himself, he'd have to admit he wasn't angry at Charlie.
He was simply scared.
"Oh, Sebastian." Francine's voice was warm and comforting. "I didn't know you were an artist."
"His drawings are amazing, Mom."
They weren't. He'd known it since his father had pointed out every flaw, every mistake, and laughed at the crap his kid had drawn, throwing all his sketches into the fire. Knowing Charlie believed in him despite those flaws was the only thing that kept Sebastian in his chair.
Francine put a hand to her cheek, her fingers bent, her skin mottled with age spots. "You can't possibly want to draw an old woman like me. You should draw Charlie, instead."
"I want to see you through Sebastian's eyes, Mom." She touched his arm again, smiling hopefully. "He has very special eyes."
He couldn't possibly decline. There was no choice. Francine needed this drawing, if only to show her that she was worthy of being seen. And he was so damn tired of listening to his father's voice. He would not allow his fears to hurt this lovely woman. He would overcome them, if only for this moment.
And there was no question about it, Charlie was not only a brilliant diplomat--she was a master strategist. Especially when her actions came from pure love. However misguided she was about his talent, she'd never meant to hurt him.
He finally took the pad and pencil from her. Leaning forward, he pressed his mouth to hers, letting her know he wasn't angry with her.
He tasted the relief on her lips, and hoped she could taste his love for her on his. Even if he'd never drawn in front of anyone before, and was honestly scared shitless. He could stand on a stage in front of tens of thousands of people, absolutely calm and in his element. But in this moment...
It felt like he was trying to walk the mile Francine had just walked.
