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"What time is it?" I said, checking around to see if there was a clock on the wall.
Nathaniel shrugged. "Daytime?"
"Drake," I shouted, drying my hands off on the apron I was wearing. I went to the sound system and stopped the music. I put my arms around his neck. "I didn't hear you come in."
"How could you hear anything?" he said, his eyes merry, his arms going around my waist, pulling me against his body.
"What time is it?"
Drake smiled. "It's 1:30."
I inhaled sharply. "I forgot to check. Have you been waiting long?"
He shook his head.
"I decided to come by and see what was going on. I figured you were otherwise occupied and just forgot about the time."
"I did. I was so busy putting on the gesso I lost track of time. Forgive me?"
Drake kissed me quickly. "Nothing to forgive. Let's go. Unless you want to stay…"
I shook my head. "No, let's go. I can't do anything until the coat dries. I have to finish cleaning up first."
He released me and I went back to the sink to finish drying off the brushes. He came closer and glanced at Nathaniel and then Jules, a look of restrained mirth on his face.
Jules held the roach out to Drake. "Have a toke, man," he said.
Drake shook his head, holding his hand up, palm out. "Thanks, but no."
Jules shrugged and turned away, sauntering back to his studio.
I said goodbye to Nathaniel, thanking him for helping me with the canvases and we left, walking to the car. Drake opened the door for me and then went around to the driver's side.
"Did you smoke pot with them?"
I glanced at him. "No," I said. "I'm not really much of a pot smoker. Never did like it. Besides, with the hanging judge for a father? No way…"
He smiled. "You looked right in your element at the studio with that paint on your apron and cheek," he said and reached over to touch my skin. "You looked really happy."
"I was. I am," I said and took his hand. "I haven't even started on the work but it feels so good to be doing art again."
He squeezed my hand.
We returned to the apartment in Chelsea where we had a quick lunch and spent the next hour sitting together on the couch, watching the news and drinking our hot tea.
Later in the afternoon, Drake received a call from Maureen.
"She wants me to come by to talk about Liam," Drake said to me when he hung up. I had been in the kitchen checking through the fridge, deciding what to make for supper and didn't hear the details of the conversation.
"Do you have the memento you wanted to give to him?"
Drake nodded. "Yes, I'll bring it along. I hope she lets him have it. I don't know what cover story she can give him, but it should be his."
"What is it, if you don't mind me asking?" I asked, curious, but not wanting to push him.
"A picture of Liam outside a field hospital in Vietnam receiving the Medal of Honor for saving the lives of two soldiers who were in a burning helicopter that crashed. I hope that one day, Maureen will show it to him, let him know who his real father and family were."
I said nothing. I doubted that Maureen would indulge Drake. Even though he might be key to saving Liam's life, I imagined she'd be just as happy to have him back out of her and Liam's life as soon as possible.
