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“So, what did you do back in Wyoming?” Brad asks me. “You weren’t a nanny, were you?”
I throw my head back and laugh. My life back home was as removed from my life here that if someone who knew me saw me now, their jaw would drop.
“You’re right,” I tell Brad. “I wasn’t a nanny.” I pause to think about my answer. “I dabbled in art.” Not quite a lie but not the whole truth either.
Brad’s face lights up. “Really? I like art too, but I’ll be honest, I don’t understand some pieces.”
I laugh at that. Abstract art confounds a lot of people.
“There’s a small gallery on Diamond Street, do you want to stop by tomorrow afternoon?” Brad says.
He looks so cute, his head tilted to one side as he waits for my answer. I wish I could capture him like that on my phone camera. It would be the perfect picture to send Jessica. She’s constantly asking me to send her a pic. I’m no paparazzi. Brad would know I was taking it. How would I explain that?
“What about Isaac? He’d get pretty bored in an art gallery.”
“Debbie has invited a few kids to her place tomorrow afternoon. We can drop him off on our way.” He makes it sound like a date.
I smile. “I’d love that.”
My heart pounds like crazy. It’s foolish, but I like the thought of going out on a date with Brad. I haven’t gone on a lot of dates. I wasn’t one of the popular kids in school. I was sullen and unapproachable. It was deliberate. With an unfriendly face, no one approached me. One glance and even the friendliest ran off scared. Having friends meant that at one point, they would come to your house. Plus, we were shuffled from different homes so many times; there really was no time to make friends.
I love art galleries. I love the silence, but mostly, I love the array of paintings on the walls and stands. Sometimes, I’ll come across a piece that is so beautiful it makes tears fill my eyes. Or a piece that just confounds my senses, and I’ll stand there staring at it until it begins to make sense.
I forget myself in an art gallery. When Clay and I were married, art galleries were the only places I could go without him hounding me. I’d stay for hours. He’d go with me sometimes just to make sure I was actually going where I said I was. After fifteen minutes, he’d get bored and tell me to find him at home. That’s when my fun began. I studied each piece for hours before moving on to the next.
“Great.”
We sit and stare at one another. I wish he was my boyfriend. The thought pops into my mind, and I almost gasp. I can’t believe I would think something like that when we have the perfect relationship. It’s undemanding, and either one of us can end it at any time.
Why would I think something so ridiculous?
“You’re very beautiful,” Brad says.
My heart skips a beat. He has never told me that in broad daylight. Sure, he says it a lot of times when we’re in the throes of passion. But anything goes during those times.
“Thank you.” My voice is shaky.
Isaac comes back to the table, a huge grin splitting his face. “It’s so much fun.” He grabs the straw and pulls on his milkshake.
“Ready to leave?” Brad teases him.
“No, Dad! Please.”
“I’m teasing,” Brad says and ruffles his head. Isaac’s hair is thick and dark. It beckons a person to ruffle it.
He grins at us and then leaves.
“I don’t understand how she could have left him.” I realize too late that I’ve said that out loud. My hand flies to my mouth as if I can pull back those words. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s fine,” Brad says, a sad smile on his face.
I want to kick myself for that. He was so cheerful earlier, and then I go and say something that pulls him back into painful memories.
“I’ve asked that myself countless times.”
We sit quietly, watching the kids in the play area and sipping on our bottles of water.
Chapter 12
Brad
Mila looks so hot in a flowery sundress that shows off her tanned shoulders. She sashays from her house to the car, and my eyes are practically eating her up. After we got back from eating pizza, she went back to her place, and I haven’t seen her since.
Isaac bounces up and down in the back seat.
“Hi, guys.” As she slides into the front seat, her sundress rides up and exposes the creamy skin of her thigh.
“Hi,” Isaac and I echo back.
I’m wearing sunglasses, and she can’t see my covert stares. The sundress is short, and the sight of her skin reminds me of how delicious she is. My body warms up in response. I shift in my seat as I try to concentrate on driving.
