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She palmed her cheek to hide her hectic coloring. “I miss those days. What happened to us?”
“We grew up. We started working.” He reached for her hand, his thumb skimming over hers as he watched her closely. “I’m sorry if you’ve felt shut out lately.”
A lump of emotion tightened her throat and she nodded, blinking to keep from crying. She had felt left out, and had made peace with seeing him at work and the occasional after-work dinner, but that wasn’t enough.
“We used to be inseparable.”
“I remember.” His secret smile was all for her and she reveled in it. No one was here to intrude or put him on the clock or demand he stop being himself.
“When’s the last time you took the time to do something you love?”
“A while,” he admitted.
“Same. I’ve been wanting to paint again and I haven’t had the time.” Her eyes went to the mantel and that sorry excuse for art he had hanging over it. “I’d like to replace that lifeless painting with a Sabrina Douglas original.”
“Clown on a bicycle? Elephant balancing on a waffle cone?”
“That was my circus era and I’m over it. You certainly have enough space in this vault for me to spread out a canvas or two.” She moved to tug her hand away but he held fast. His blue eyes were locked on hers when he squeezed her fingers.
“I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all I ask.”
For now.
