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He smoothed her hair, which had become even more wild, almost half of it now escaped from the clip she’d put in this morning. She could almost laugh when she thought about what he must be seeing. But she didn’t care. Not at this moment.
“You look so beautiful,” he said, startling her.
She laughed. “Hardly.”
He shook his head. “Definitely. You look natural, so much a reflection of your art, your”—he gestured around them—“surroundings. This image, for example. It’s like you’re a part of it. And it’s a part of you.”
She looked down at the mass of trees with their splashes of fall color. The reds, the golds, the amber browns, the green of the pine. Noticed again the gold of her yoga pants and the forest green of her sweater, which she had donned again today. She had to admit they were colors she loved, and the fall in the woods was something she’d missed sorely in Italy.
He leaned and kissed her briefly again. “You’re a Rossetti girl,” he said. “My very own Rossetti girl.”
She laughed and shook her head. “I think there was only one.”
He smiled at her. “And now there’s another one.”
* * *
Kate fed the dog and put him outside. The two of them would walk him later. Though lately it was more an amble than anything else, but she didn’t mind that, especially if Ethan was with her. Ethan had unloaded the cartons from the bag and had pulled out utensils from the drawer. She’d told him she would rather not struggle with chopsticks tonight, she was too hungry, and he had only laughed and said she’d be fine, until she poked his ribs with the chopsticks and promptly broke them in half with her hands.
A moment later, she pulled out the plates before he could protest. She knew when he was on his own he just ate out of pots, or the take out containers. He didn’t even have to tell her; she had noticed his sink and things he had and hadn’t said. She could only imagine what his life was like in New York. At least when he was with her, she would insist that he sit down and breathe. It was the ordinariness of the moment, and though it might have seemed mundane, Kate found that she could treasure it. She could set everything aside. A quiet moment, spent with someone she cared about. No frills, no fuss. No expensive dress to be anxious over, no cuisine to worry about eating properly or understanding its importance. She loved that Ethan had on an old, washed-out sweatshirt that said Somerton Lake College and old jeans and black boots, and that his hair hung unevenly into his forehead. And she also loved that they were sharing a dinner that had come out of boxes and cost a fraction of what a meal at any of Giancarlo’s restaurants in Rome would have cost.
“Do you go out in New York much?” she asked. “To clubs and things?”
Ethan looked up from his meal, considered a moment. “No, not really. I try and avoid that kind of thing if I can.”
“Do the band members ever take you with them?”
He looked away from her, frowned. “They try. Sometimes.”
His obvious discomfort puzzled her. Was it his family’s disapproval that caused him to avoid any publicity? “Do you see anyone of your family anymore?”
He looked back at her, allowing her briefly to see the pain in his face, before he looked down. “Only Teddi. But that’s rare. She’s caught up in her life up in Boston.”
“What does she do?”
“She’s just finishing up law school,” he said, a wry smile on his face. “My father, I’m sure, has her earmarked for his company, but she has her own ideas.”
Kate smiled at that. “Does he know yet?”
He shrugged. “She says she’s saving it up for a big reveal when she has it all lined up.”
“Do you know what that is?”
“I have my suspicions. And I also suspect he won’t be that enamored of her chosen area.”
“Which is?”
“Immigration law.” He shook his head, his smile growing rueful. “She’s been doing a bit of advocacy for asylum seekers at a volunteer center. I wish her luck with it.”
“Wow,” said Kate. “That’s quite a direction to take.”
“Well, she has another few months to work it all out.”
The question that had been lurking in the back of her mind ever since Thanksgiving last week surfaced. “Will you see her at Christmas?”
He jabbed his fork around his plate. A large sigh escaped. “No. She’ll go home to my parents. I might see her New Year’s Eve, though. She’s thinking of coming to New York for that.”
“Oh, that would be good,” Kate said, mulling over the implication of his words. “Will you be in New York for Christmas?”
