Yanking herself from that memory, Emily glanced up at Jake, and his intense expression sent a chill through her.
“What?” she managed to say, the air stuck in her lungs.
“Why did you give up on your dream of being an artist—a professional, full-time artist?”
She shook her head and began stacking the napkins neatly into the box. She didn’t want to have this conversation—not now, not ever. Her failures were something she needed to overcome without his help. He wasn’t going to be here forever. He would surely find his way to Nashville. With Claire. And without her.
“Hey.” Jake took her hands in his. “Look at me, Emily.”
Hearing his voice say her full name sent a jolt directly to her heart. She could count on one hand how many times Jake had called her by her full name since they’d met nearly twenty-five years ago, and each time he’d said it, they were either having a serious conversation or in some kind of peril.
She slowly lifted her eyes to meet his, and his blue orbs were full of concern and something she couldn’t quite identify that made her feel all fluttery inside.
“Pleasetell me the truth.” His voice pleaded with her. “Why did you give up your dream?”
She sighed. “It just didn’t work out.” She did her best to sound casual, but she heard the thread of pain in her voice.
He looked unconvinced. “Did youreallytry?”
“Jake, I don’t want to talk about this.” She tried to stand up, but he hauled her back down onto the bed.
“We’ve always told each other the truth, right?”
She nodded.
“Then tell me. I remember you helping the other kids in art class when we were in school. You were so good at it. And you were a wonderful art teacher here at the community center, and I know you loved that job. You beamed every time you talked about it.”
She nodded. That was true. She had loved her job at the community center, teaching art to both kids and adults. But once her parents died, everything changed—including her love for her job. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore. Everything felt sort of ... pointless. Her parents’ death was a bomb that had exploded her life—every single aspect.
“You’ve floated from job to job since you moved to Charlotte. Why would you stop teaching art, something you love and excel at, to work at a coffee shop?” His eyes searched hers. “It doesn’t make any sense to me. So please, help me understand.”
Her throat dried while she tried to form a response. How could she explain she’d lost her muse? Plus, if she told him that, then he’d want her to completely open up to him.
The truth was, her muse wasn’t just this nebulous thing. After a while she’d realized...Jakewas her muse. And he’d been her muse for so long. But she’d finally forced herself to give up on him, finally accepted that she could never have him. She couldn’t allow herself to bare her soul to him. They’d always been honest with each other—to a point. She’d kept her love for him locked up deep within her heart. She couldn’t allow herself to be that vulnerable. If she did, then he’d tell her that he didn’t care about her that way, and it would not only destroy her heart but also demolish their friendship.
Instead of responding, Emily scooted away from him slightly, trying to put some space between them. “Jake, being an artist, a full-time artist, is not as easy as you think.”
“Nothing that’s worth it is easy.”
He was right, but she wasn’t going to admit it.
Silence drifted over the room, and Jake’s brow furrowed while he studied her as if she were an intricate puzzle. Tension filled the space between them, and she longed to read his thoughts.
Finally, Jake stood and held out his hand to her. “Come with me.”
She threaded her fingers with his before he lifted her to her feet and towed her across the hall to his old bedroom, which his folks had converted into an office after he moved out. A desk, a few filing cabinets, and a sofa replaced his double bed and dressers. But the walls were still the same pale blue as they’d been when it was Jake’s room.
“Check it out.” He pointed to the far wall where a large painting of downtown Splendid Lake decorated for the holidays hung.
Emily sucked in air while she perused the painting. She’d created it for her senior project, and she’d spent weeks on it—adding the details of the glowing Christmas tree, the lights illuminating each store window, decorations adorning every light post, and the townspeople enjoying the evening.
The painting had won first prize in a local art show, and it had hung in her parents’ den from the day she brought it home until she sold the house. After that, it had been packed up in the Hugheses’ basement for the past four years.
“When did your mom hang it here?” she asked Jake.
“I hung it here shortly after you left for Charlotte. I went down to the basement looking for something and came across your paintings. When I saw this one, I decided it needed to be enjoyed, not hidden away and forgotten. This is your masterpiece.” He rested his hand on her shoulder. “You’re talented—really,reallytalented. You need to share that talent with the world, not hide it away like you hid this painting in my parents’ basement.”
She cupped her hand to her mouth as his words unlocked something deep inside her. She tried in vain to swallow back the emotion and spun away from him, but it was too late. Tears filled her eyes, and her shoulders began to shake.
