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Devin paints a Japanese cherry blossom tree, near a body of water. His rendering includes the reflection of the tree.
After an hour, the kids start to clean up. It takes Ash and I forty-five minutes to lock up the supplies, leaving the center well after all our students.
Devin, Lainey and Collin are waiting on the front steps. “I’m hungry, Devin,” Lainey whines. She’s so little to begin with, and Devin moves her to his lap, holding her, and smoothing out her messy, whitish blonde hair.
We exchange a knowing look walking past them.
“Hey, guys. Have you ever been to Frankie’s across the street? They have the best hotdogs. I was just telling Noah I’m too tired to cook. Wanna join us? Our treat.”
Lainey and Collin are the first to accept our invitation, but Devin resists. “You don’t need to, Ashton. Our mom will be here soon.”
Somehow, I have a hard time believing it, since class was over almost an hour ago.
“Actually, you’d be doing me a favor,” I join in. “Could you imagine having dinner with this guy every single night,” I tease, making the air light between all of us.
“You’d be doing me a favor,” Ash returns, “He’s crazy, so I should be thanking you.” Both Lainey and Collin begin giggling.
“That’s not true. You two loooove each other,” Lainey teases, and we can’t help but laugh at her.
The kids lead the way to the diner, and Devin follows. They all order, but when they’re done and find a place to sit with Ash, I ask the young woman behind the counter to double the order.
The kids begin to tell us about their day at school. Lainey is small. She looks five, not seven, with long white hair and deep brown eyes. Collin has a larger build, and he’d be a great offensive lineman if his size at the age of nine is any indication of how big he’ll be when he’s older. Devin is an older version of his sister, with almost white hair, but built like a linebacker, and at sixteen, is almost as tall as Ashton.
As Ashton engages with Lainey and Collin, I take the time to speak with Devin about his art, and what he wants to do after high school.
“There’s an art school in California I plan to apply to. I’ve been working any job where I can take Collin and Lainey with me. But then again, I don’t want to leave them. There are some great programs here. I feel like I’m versatile in most mediums, but oil paints are what I want to focus on.”
“Oil paintings is what I did mostly in college. I know great programs here, but I’m assuming you’re speaking of Lourdes in San Diego?”
Lourdes is a school dedicated to oil paints that follows both Impressionism and Cubism. They rely heavily on the works of Pablo Picasso but aren’t limited to just him, encouraging their students to think outside of the box. The school is very eclectic, liberal, and though the program is hard, it produces some of the most respected modern artists of today’s generation.
“It is, but you must know the tuition is out of my range, and I can’t leave Lainey and Collin.”
I understand what he’s saying without actually saying the words. He is all his brother and sister have in this world.
The food comes, and I feign shock at the size of the order, blaming the staff for everything in front of us. “Don’t worry about it guys because hotdogs make the best leftovers.”
Ashton sends me a sexy wink. He knows my heart is his, but it has room to fall for these kids too, but it already has.
* * *
“Areyou saying your lease is up next month?” I ask, crawling into bed next to his naked body. “And what are you doing to me?” I push down the sheet, and sure enough, he’s fucking naked.
“Okay, first things first, babe,” Ash begins, covering his penis. He knows I can’t concentrate when my eyes fall on it. “Greg and Dave know I’m practically living with you. They want to move further north. But, it means I need to be moved out by the end of next month.”
Most of his stuff is here. We only stay at his place on the days we volunteer at the center. “What do you have left?”
He begins to chuckle, a ha-ha sort of laugh. “Only the hardest things to move. It’s all my art supplies. I have everything else here, and I’m not taking any of my furniture, except for my desk. And I’ll buy a new bookshelf.”
I’ve cleared a large area for him in my studio. And I can’t wait to have his art in my space.
He has been essentially living with me for a month, but knowing every part of him will be here soon, and that his art is as much of him as his soul, I almost come undone. It hits me all at once.
“I’m going to marry you one day, Ashton Brooks.”
It doesn’t rattle him. His smile is broad, and his eyes, full of want and need, drink me in. “And I’m going to say yes to you on that day, Noah James.”
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