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“You think we could just pretend you didn’t see that? Not my best moment, that night. I try sometimes, because I’ll get this idea in my head. I’ll see something and want so badly to paint it. I can see each detail in my mind, like it’s right there in front of me, but my hands can’t create it. It’s frustrating to know what I want to create but be physically unable to.”
Before I could think better of it, I used my left hand to cup her cheek, then ran my thumb beneath her eye. “That night I saw your face. It was right there, so clear, every detail, every line, every shadow. I wanted to immortalize that, to create something beautiful that I could keep, but I couldn’t even sketch the shape of your eye. It was so bad, it felt like it was mocking us both.”
She squeezed my right hand tightly, the pressure uneven as it went between my real hand and the prosthesis. “What if—”
I shook my head and pulled away, unwilling to continue this conversation. “I’m past what ifs, Kenz. I’ve dealt with this for five years. I know what’s possible and what isn’t. I’ve gone to specialists, spent millions on private care, on every crackpot practitioner who told me they could do something to help, and you know what I’ve learned? It’s impossible. Sometimes we lose things, and we can’t get them back. I’ve given up on it, so please, don’t tell me how if I just do some random thing, it’ll be okay. It won’t be, and I’ve accepted that.”
I turned my gaze to her art, trying to change the subject. “The contrast between the soft coloring and hard lines looks good. It helps mirror the different sides of Nem, to show the rough outer edge versus the softer interior that stays hidden.”
Kenz swallowed hard, the sound suggesting she hadn’t quite finished our previous conversation but knew better than to bring it up again. Instead, she turned her attention to the painting as well. The seriousness in her expression charmed me more than the sexiest of clothing or most sensual come-hither.
Too many artists ignored good advice. They decided they were perfect, that they didn’t need to change anything, that their art was flawless merely by existing. Kenz, on the other side, eagerly accepted all lessons.
It was what had drawn me to her the first time I’d met her. The way she’d heard my suggestion about her art, and she’d accepted it openly. Someone who cared more about improving than they did about their own ego was rare in my world, and as it turned out, I liked it.
Kenz nodded, her gaze locked on the painting. “I was afraid the black would stand out too much for outlines.”
“I think black is the right choice. However, you kept the eyes soft.”
“I thought that would show how she sees the world, that she’s kinder than she seems.”
“That’s howyousee the world, not her. From what I’ve heard, Nem sees it differently. The old saying is that the eyes are the windows to the soul, and like this, they fade into the background.”
“So should I do the edges in black?”
I shook my head. “That doesn’t feel right, either.” I tapped my finger against my chin, then it came to me. “Give me a moment.”
I went back to my own room, digging through the large chest that held all my art supplies. I had no idea why I’d kept it with me, why I had these things even when I knew I couldn’t use them. At least it proved useful this time. I grabbed what I needed then returned to Kenz.
When I entered, I found her leaning forward, her face a breath from the canvas, her eyes locked on Nem’s as if she could figure out the problem if she only got a little closer.
It made me smile, especially with how she bit down on her bottom lip, chewing anxiously.
“Try this.” I handed what I’d found to Kenz.
She took it without hesitation, reminding me again just how trusting she really was. She stared down at the pen. “What’s this?”
“It’s a special pen. The ink is made with crushed pearl that sparkles in the light. This one will come out a dark brown that isn’t quite black, but when the light hits it, it’ll shimmer. It should draw attention to the eyes without giving them the same hard line as the rest of the painting.”
Kenz stared down at the pen, her hair falling forward so I couldn’t even see her expression. She closed her hand around the pen as though it were precious. “You know,” she said, her voice soft. “You might not be able to paint anymore, but don’t ever think you’re useless. You aren’t.”
The conversation went quiet, because honestly, I had no idea what to say back to that. How was I supposed to respond to a statement like that?
You sure don’t play fair.
“Make sure you eat,” I said instead. “I know you want to work, but you aren’t going to be much use if you end up with your glucose going crazy.”
Kenz flashed me a smile that made my heart race, and what the fuck was up with that? I’d had models spread their thighs for me countless times and none hadevermade me feel like this.
I’d told Kenz she couldn’t possibly love us, but I was starting to fear I’d already fallen for her.
* * * *
Kenz
I stared down at my cell phone, the one Tor had given me so long ago. They’d removed the restrictions on it, which gave me the chance to call whoever I wanted. I’d still bet they kept an eye on it, but it gave me a little more freedom. In addition, they’d sworn that they’d turned off the bug in my glucose monitor.
Not that I believed them. I kept the thing wrapped in a sock to muffle anything, just in case. They could track it with GPS, but I didn’t like the idea of them listening in.
