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Jack’s gaze dropped to her lips. “A shame. I’m positive I’d enjoy hearing you sing.”
“You only say that because you’ve not heard me do so,” she assured him, thinking she’d never be comfortable enough to sing in public.
“You don’t sing, you don’t play music, and this is your first music festival.” His gaze searched hers. “What do you do in your free time, Taylor?”
Good question. One that two years ago she’d have answered with do everything she could to keep her husband happy, spend all her time trying to somehow be good enough so that perhaps their failing marriage would morph into what she’d once dreamed it would be. A year ago she’d have answered with cry and try not to dwell on the mess she’d made by not really knowing the man she’d married in a whirlwind while thinking she was the luckiest girl alive that a handsome plastic surgeon wanted to marry a plain Jane like her.
Thank goodness she’d never given in to his wanting her to not work but stay home. As his wife, she’d gone part time, but had kept working. The ICU, her patients had been her solace. Other than her work, she’d had no life, no being Taylor, just Mrs. Dr. Neil Norris.
“I run.” One of the habits she’d picked up immediately following her divorce.
“Competitively?”
She snickered. “Hardly. I run for me, to relieve stress, for exercise, to clear my head.”
She’d started on a whim of wanting to be healthy but running had quickly become her therapy. She spent the time working through the past, how it had molded her, how she was determined to break those molds and forge herself into a person she liked. Neither her indifferent parents nor Neil got the final say on who she was.
“So you work, sleep and run.” Jack frowned. “Not a very exciting life you’re describing, Taylor. Surely there’s more?”
“I never claimed I led an exciting life.” She crossed her arms as she stared back.
“What else, Taylor?” he pushed.
Glancing down at the green grass beneath her tennis shoes, she shrugged. “I have all the usual hobbies people have.” She did. Now. “I sculpt.”
She’d signed up for the sculpting class after seeing an ad she’d come across on social media but had loved it from the first moment she’d felt the clay between her fingers.
Jack’s brow lifted. “As in statues of naked men?”
Taylor rolled her eyes. “That’s such a guy question.”
His lips twitched. “But is it true?”
“A couple of times,” she admitted, her face warm and getting warmer at how his eyes twinkled.
“In the name of art, right?” he teased.
Smiling, Taylor didn’t bother to explain she’d been oblivious to the men who’d posed during her art class. She could barely recall what they’d looked like. What she’d enjoyed had been the feel of the clay beneath her fingers as she’d taken nothing and transformed it into something.
Much as she’d done with her life.
Nothing to something.
“I’d like to see some of your work.”
Unless he saw the piece she’d brought to give to Amy, it was unlikely. Until recently, she hadn’t wanted anyone to see her work as too much of her was caught up in it.
“Or if you got the urge to work while here and needed inspiration...” His tone teased.
Yeah, had Jack been the model, she seriously doubted she’d have been oblivious. Looking at the man was like looking at the most interesting piece of artwork she’d ever encountered, beautiful, intriguing, and full of character.
Meeting his gaze and feigning excitement, she couldn’t resist saying, “You really think Robert would do that for me?”
Jack laughed. “I’m sure you could convince him.”
“I don’t know,” she said, trying to sound unsure. “There’s that nurse he was meeting when he took off earlier.”
“There is that.” Jack’s gaze stayed locked with hers, both of them smiling, Taylor feeling really good on the inside.
