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“Glad I can be a small distraction.”
“You’re definitely my favorite item on the to-do list, that’s for sure.” He paused to rub the back of his neck. His eyes were way more world-weary than usual, even his hair looked a little droopy.
“List getting long again?” I worried about him, the way he worked himself so hard at both ends of the day.
“Yeah. Work’s finally picking up, which is great, but closing shift went late last night. Then this morning, Mom had a tight turnaround between rentals, so I went over to help her before I went into the tavern for the brunch rush.”
“You should have told me. You could have napped instead of giving up your Sunday afternoon for painting. You should rest.”
“Doc. You’re off duty. Enough about me resting.” Returning to his painting, he moved faster as if trying to prove he wasn’t exhausted.
“Okay, okay.” I wasn’t going to argue with him about giving up his Sunday, but I resolved to do more than my share and ensure he got some downtime later.
“Now, how is it that you’ve never painted before?” he asked, a clear bid to change the subject.
“There was never a chance, I guess,” I said, answering his question. “I grew up in the same house for eighteen years, same furniture, same room arrangements. Mom never wanted to change anything.”
“She can’t ever meet my mom.” Adam laughed fondly like there was any chance of that happening, but I liked living in a fantasy world where there might be occasions for future meetings. “That woman can’t leave a room alone. Always changing and tweaking stuff even in her private space at the B&B.”
“My mom didn’t even like rotating out seasonal decorations.” The divorce had forced some amount of change on her, adding a layer of bitterness to her already frosty exterior. I envied Adam and his mom’s bond, and hearing his stories about her always made me like him that much more, the way he put family first without resentment.
“Too bad. Changing things up can be fun if you let it.” Adam said this with the same air as when he’d told me a few weeks ago to have a rebound fling or ten.
“Yeah, but so can picking one thing, sticking with it.” I smacked the roller against the paint tray harder than I needed to. Why I suddenly cared about being more than the flavor of the summer for him was something I didn’t want to examine too closely. “Until I purchased this condo, I’d only lived in dorms and cheap apartments, places where I wasn’t allowed to paint.”
“It’s nice to add some of your own personality to where you live, right? And this place has good resale value if you ever feel like moving on.”
“Yeah.” I tried to quash the image of doing more DIY projects with Adam that sprung up uninvited. He deserved a place of his own, not hopping from rental to rental for his mom. A place with character and history and someone to share it with. He was such a good Daddy. He’d make someone an excellent partner, and it was getting harder and harder to stop myself from volunteering.
Coming over to refill his roller, he patted me on the shoulder. “Think you’ll stick around here? Long-term, I mean? I realize your family and roots are up near Portland.”
His tone was guarded, making it hard to figure out whether he was hoping I’d put down roots or being pragmatic. I liked the idea of him wanting me to stay, though, or at least, caring enough to ask. I leaned into his touch, soaking up his nearness.
“I’m okay with just an occasional visit back to Portland. I like being on the coast. My walks wouldn’t be so interesting back home. It’s rather boring and flat.”
“Oh, that’s right.” He kissed my temple before returning to painting. “You were going to show me your treasures today. Let’s finish this coat of paint, and then I want to see what you’ve found.”
“You really want to see my beach junk?”
“It’s not junk if you’re keeping it.”
“I really need to start writing down your wisdom. Maybe frame your sayings as memes,” I joked, but his words had found a vulnerable spot in my carefully constructed armor. That he valued the things I found important made me feel cared for, a deeper level to the Daddy dynamic. He easily met my sexual needs, but the way he created a safe place for my emotions was as unexpected as it was welcome.
“Bet I could charge ten bucks a pop at one of the tourist shops.” Adam laughed, but it had a tired edge.
I sped up the paint application. Showing him my beach finds would be a good excuse to get him sitting down and resting with a drink. After we wrapped the paint rollers in plastic, I settled Adam into the comfy chair in my home office and pulled down the trays of my finds that I stored on the shelving unit.
