Page 85 of Something Borrowed

Vic snorted. “Why don’t I go make—it’s a good thing you’re pretty, Anderson.”

Cal glanced past her, as if addressing someone else in the room, and fluttered his eyelashes. “Did you hear that, boys? She thinks I’m pretty.”

Vic shook her head.

Cal directed his attention back to Vic, scrubbed his beard, and winked. “Honestly, though, ‘pretty’ is not a compliment I get often.”

“I think I’ll go make Audra that tea.”

There was silence from her room as she went downstairs. Then, as the water started to boil in the kitchen, she heard Cal’s drill buzz to life.

When he summoned her shortly, she took in his brainchild with surprise and glee. A continuous shallow shelf framed the full perimeter of the room, just perfect for displaying drying canvases, finished canvases, or works in progress. He’d taken the liberty of placing a couple of her pieces here and there, but in Vic’s mind’s eye the shelves were already full, some canvases even overlapping in places.

The room, well . . . it really was starting to look like a studio. Even her narrow childhood bed, now plump with pillows of assorted sizes and shapes that she’d covered in jewel-toned cases to pull in the colors from her window seat, looked more like a place to rest and think and daydream than it did a bedroom’s bed.

“Cal,” she managed. “It’s . . .” Words failed her.

Cal surveyed the room, gazing side to side. “Looks pretty good, hey?”

“It’s the most perfect workspace, ever.”

“Okay, that’s definitely an exaggeration.” But his eyes crinkled, and she knew her words had made him happy.

“Thank you so much. I love it.”

“You’re very welcome,” he said.

They didn’t work all week without stopping or anything, however. The furthest thing from it, in fact. And Vic found lazing around with Cal just as satisfying as working with him. They read books, went for long, bundled-up walks in the beautiful crisp air, shared meals, played with Christmas—and watched a lot of NCIS with Audra. Of all the things that made Cal special, Vic thought the way he was willing to spend time with cranky Audra just because she was her mother was especially telling about his character.

Vic and Cal both moaned—only half joking—that the decadent week of doing whatever they felt like whenever they felt like it was going to make returning to real life, with alarm clocks and less flexible schedules, very, very difficult. And still they hadn’t had the talk that Vic had resolved to have.

On the evening of the 30th, as Cal was getting ready to head home—a bit earlier than usual because Vic wanted to paint, and he hadn’t spoken to Carrie in a while—he turned to Vic. “So about New Year’s Eve,” he said. “I was thinking . . .”

“Did it hurt?” Audra asked drily.

“Ha! Good one.” He pointed a finger at her, unfazed, and turned back to Vic. “Do you have plans tomorrow night?”

“I don’t know . . . do I?”

He smiled so big that it kind of hurt Vic’s heart a little. “Will you do me the honor of spending the evening with me tomorrow and ringing in the New Year?”

“I’m not staying up till midnight. What a bunch of foolery,” Audra sniped ungraciously, like it was she was the one being invited. Cal’s eyes met Vic’s in shared amusement.

“That sounds wonderful,” Vic said sincerely. “What’s the plan?”

“Actually, if it’s okay with you, I want it to be a surprise. Is that okay?”

“Can you give me a hint? Should I dress up?”

Cal’s eyes heated. “I always love it when you dress up—but I love it when you wear sweatpants too.”

“Oh, very helpful,” Vic teased.

“Dress up,” he said. “But bring a change of comfortable clothes.”

Chapter 41

New Year’s Eve arrived, and Vic couldn’t remember one she’d ever looked forward to more. She made a nice array of snacks for Audra, who expressed contentedness that seemed sincere, if snippily delivered, about having a night to herself “finally.”