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“Thank you. Have a good night.”
“You too.”
As I start to exit the room, she says, “Amanda?”
I turn my head. “Yes.”
“Safeguard his heart. He might seem hard on the outside, but I assure you, on the inside he’s quite fragile. He may not always react as you’d like, but he’s an extraordinary man underneath a lifetime of baggage.”
That last part feels loaded, but I say nothing in return. I nod wordlessly as I leave the room. I know Beckett has been through a lot, losing his wife and raising his daughter on his own.
I think I pass over ten rooms along the way to the gym. As I get closer, I hear grunting, though I’m not prepared for what I see when I walk in.
The gym is bigger and nicer than most commercial gym spaces. What really stands out is that there’s a full boxing ring in the middle. Beckett and Nico are in it. Beckett is wearing gloves while Nico holds up pads for him to punch over and over again.
Beckett is wearing gray sweatpants and a tight T-shirt, showing all his bulging muscles. I noticed he was bigger than when we met, but now I see he is completely ripped. Sweat is pouring off his body. It’s like seeing afantasy come to life. Or the beginning of some sexy porn.
I watch for a few minutes as he moves with what appears to be expert precision. I wonder why he knows how to fight so well. It seems odd for someone in his position. He and Nico dance around with Beckett going on full attack mode. Nico occasionally throws a swing at Beckett, but he quickly ducks out of the way each time.
At some point, he notices me standing, ogling, in the doorway. He stops, completely out of breath. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I just got here.”
“We’re all done.” He grabs a towel and wipes his face. “I’ll show you around.”
With a towel around his neck and gray sweatpants I won’t soon forget, he gives me a quick tour of the house. I think I’ll need a map to remember where everything is. But there’s one room I won’t forget. We walk into it, and my chin nearly drops to the floor.
It’s a painting studio. And I don’t mean a few canvases, brushes, and paints. It’s a professional studio with everything you can imagine. Countless supplies. Thousands and thousands of dollars of supplies.
I look at him in question.
He shrugs. “I had a few items sent over this afternoon. If you’re going to be here and we’re going to introduce you to collectors, you need to be painting. Is it okay for you? If there’s anything missing, just let me know.”
My mouth moves a few times before words come out. “You…you did all this for me?”
“Well, notonlyyou.” He nods toward a child-sized easel next to the regular one. “Andie’s been talking about it all day since you left.”
He points to the windows in the room, which must number at least twenty. “I know you can’t tell right now, but during the day, there’s a ton of natural light in here. And you have an amazing view of the grounds. Hopefully it will inspire you.”
“I don’t know what to say. Thank you for all of this.”
He smiles. It’s so genuine and boyish. “Selfishly, I’m excited to watch your process. I love art, but I’ve never watched it come to life.”
Why is this man so damn dreamy? Did I mention that he’s wearing gray sweatpants and that they’re damp around the waistband?
As we make our way to his bedroom, he looks around nervously. “Do you want me to sleep on the couch?”
“For a month? That sounds painful. It’s not necessary. We’re not spring chickens. We can manage this.”
“Okay. Make yourself at home. The entire second closet is empty. Use it as you please.”
“Was it your wife’s?” I feel like I’m intruding on her space.
He shakes his head. “No, we never lived here. We designed and built it. It was supposed to be ready by the time Andie was born, but they were a little behind. We moved in a few weeks after the funeral.”
“That’s a shame.”
He makes a face. It’s pain but not sorrow. I don’t know what to make of it.
