Mosaic (10 page)

The woman was me, painted in such an obviously loving manner, my gaze was captivated looking at it. I didn’t move as I felt warmth behind me. Julian dropped to sit at my back on the floor, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder.

“You’re snooping.” I heard the smile in his voice, and I hugged my arm over his at my waist. “What do you think?”

My voice was a breathless whisper. “I think being an architect is doing wonders for your art.”

He did a little laugh before pressing his lips against the top of my shoulder, right in the crease where my neck came down. It caused a little shiver to run down my legs, and I turned my head to find his lips.

One breathless kiss later, my eyes rose to meet his. “These are gorgeous.”

Those blue eyes creased in a grateful smile. “I’m not sure I can trust you,” he teased. “You love everything I do.”

Shaking my head, I rotated so I was facing him. “No. These are truly amazing. Your art is really evolving into something… it’s like your mom’s style, but it’s very different. It’s your own.”

His eyes traveled down to my lips then over to my jaw and up, around my hair before coming to rest again on mine. “I tried to remember you in feelings as well as images.”

My hands held his waist as I listened. “What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure.” We both laughed then, and he continued. “I mean, I have pictures of us on my phone and pictures I’ve taken when you weren’t looking…”

“Let me see them!”

“Hang on…” He caught my hands and wrapped them back around his waist. “But I wouldn’t look at just one, I tried looking at all of them and letting it mix in my head into this… feeling of you.”

Leaning forward, I pressed my heated eyes against the bare skin of his chest.

His voice turned loud. “Do I sound like a pompous asshole?”

“No!” I sat back quickly to catch his gaze, but by doing that, he saw the pools in my eyes. Blinking, a tear hit my cheek.

In a movement, I was pressed close to him again. “I’m sorry. Why are you crying?”

“It’s so beautiful.” Then I laughed. “Now I’m really not going to London.”

He sat back and caught my cheeks again in both hands. “Yes, you are.” He kissed me quickly, then stood, pulling me up with him. “Come on. I want to show you Tybee Island. It’s amazing.”

“Oh, yes!” I remembered the impression it made on his mother, and I was eager to see it. “It’s on the migratory path for Monarch butterflies!”

“I know! That was just happening… we might still see a few out there.”

Holding hands we started back toward the bed, him in his boxers and me in only his long-sleeved tee. That’s when I caught the look in his eye, and a little charge sizzled straight to my core.

“I bet it’ll all still be there in an hour.” His voice was a husky whisper right at my ear, and there was no way I was arguing.

His mouth covered mine, pushing my lips apart, and it was all I could do not to melt on the spot.

* * *

Tybee Island was exactly the way his mother had described it—at least this morning. A lighthouse was on one end, and with the tide out, it seemed to be long stretches of dark brown sand. Once the tide changed, however, Julian said the ocean came racing back, and it was as close as the Gulf off Crystal Shores. And sure enough, several straggler Monarch butterflies were making their way south for the winter. It was amazing. We sat on the sand, and I leaned back in his arms.

“Do you come out here a lot?” I asked, threading our fingers, trying not to think how impossible it was going to be to leave him tomorrow morning.

“Not as much as I’d like.” He kissed the side of my neck. “But it’s not the same as being home. You’re not here.”

We were quiet a moment, and I thought about what Gabi had said about home. Sitting here in Julian’s arms, I knew home for me would be wherever he was. I stretched out our hands and imagined us growing old together, lines on our hands, lines on our faces. Gray strands sprinkled in his dark locks.

“What are you thinking about?” He was still holding my back against his chest, the wind pushing our hair back.

“Family.”

“The holidays are getting close.”

Nodding I shifted around so our laced fingers were in our lap and I could see his face. “Not to kill the mood…”

“Hmm.” I could tell he knew what was coming.

“Have you talked to your mom?” Blinking up to his blue eyes, I saw frustration there, but not directed at me.

“No.” His answer was short, and for a moment, I thought that was all I’d get. Then he continued. “I talk to my dad a lot, and I know he fills her in. He’s real excited about me working with him over semester break.”

Chewing my lip, I went on and said it. “You need to talk to your mom.”

He exhaled and deflected. “When are you planning to get home for Thanksgiving?”

“I can take off after my last class Tuesday,” I said, slanting my eyes up at him.

“Excellent.” He caught my waist and pulled me closer. “I’ll be there ASAP on Wednesday, and we’ll be together the rest of the week.”

“What’s the plan for Thanksgiving day?”

“Will your parents mind if I tag along at your house?”

The very suggestion made me laugh. “Of course not. You know they love you.”

“And you’ll have dinner with me on Friday?”

“Sure! Where do you want to go?” Planning our next visit so close in the future helped me be less panicked about saying goodbye to him tomorrow.

“The Kyser mansion?”

Until he said that. “What?”

“Dad said he’d like to do something special—and you’ll get your wish, because I’m sure Mom will be there. I’ll have to talk to her.”

“If that’s the case, then definitely.”

He laughed and covered my mouth with his. I was content to go on kissing him for the next twenty-four hours, and besides the two times we met up with Brad and Rachel, that was pretty much all we did… in addition to other things.

Anna’s Private Blog: Post-Thanksgiving Kyser-Apocalypse

Okay, so wow. If the world ever
does
end in a dramatic explosion, it’s very possible it will look something like what I witnessed Friday night.

I know I have to back up and fill in the blanks again, and I will, don’t worry. I’m just getting a chance to sit down and think about how it all went down for myself.

After my weekend in heaven with Julian (
shivers
), we headed back to finish the short weeks leading up to Thanksgiving holiday. It’s pretty much the end of classes, as we’ll have dead week and finals when we get back and then we’re done.
Done
.

It’s hard to believe my first semester of college is behind me! So much has happened, and so much is uncertain. I filled out the application for JYA before my trip to Savannah, but the selection process continues into the spring. We won’t know who was selected until at least March. In the meantime, I have to try and exist with that hanging over my head.

For distraction (and because I had no other choice), I threw myself into my studies. American lit was an essay on what Tennessee Williams’ depiction of Blanche and Stanley’s lives say about desire. I’ve already gone into what I think the whole play says about my desire… Still, I loved the assignment. Exploring literary themes and concepts is one of my favorite things. It was a fun paper to write.

In my journalism classes, we’ve started a video project that runs across both semesters. We have to have the planning half finished by Christmas break, and it will culminate in a fifteen-minute news story, complete with tags, interviews, and location shots due at the end of spring semester. It’s a group project, so two of my classmates and I chose the history of Algiers Point.

We’re including John McDonogh, one of the world’s largest landowners until he died in the mid-1800s. He owned most of Algiers. From him, we’ll move to the oil boom and bust and the impact it had on development, along with the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. The only thing more fascinating to me than the fictional characters in my English classes are the nonfictional ones I meet and interview on the streets. Their stories are sometimes even better than fiction.

Julian’s right. Gabi’s right. They’re all right, and it breaks my heart. Journalism
is
my passion, and it keeps pulling me further away from the person I love. Julian says I can’t get hung up on that right now. He keeps saying we’ll get through this, and I’m doing everything I can to trust him and see the amazing in all of it.

Rachel’s prelaw classes wrapped up around the same time as mine, and we were both packed and making the two-hour drive home by Tuesday afternoon.

“Brad’s sticking around Tulane?” I leaned back against the seat to let the unusually cool, crisp air filter in through the window. It sent my light-brown spirals jumping around my neck.

For the briefest of seconds, my thoughts drifted to Jack. I hadn’t seen him since that night in Fat Harry’s, and I wondered if he’d stay in the city or be at the Friday dinner Julian mentioned. Shaking my head, I figured it would be just Julian and me, possibly Julian’s mother and Mr. Kyser.

“He had a project due tomorrow for one of his engineering classes, but he’ll be home for Thursday.” Rachel’s straight blonde hair blew around her neck as well, and I resisted being envious of how polished she still appeared.

“Still excited about him relaunching his dad’s business?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Definitely! It makes total sense. The name-recognition alone is worth millions. I mean, Mr. Bryant never said why they all just shut down and let it go, but it’s a total waste of potential.”

I nodded and returned to looking out the window. I knew exactly why they all shut down and let it go. Mr. Kyser and Ms. LaSalle had an affair; they had Julian and kept his paternity a secret from everybody until Meg Kyser figured it out—the same night she caught Bill and Lexy embracing and kissing in Lexy’s office at the Kyser-Brennan Christmas party. The same night she died in a car crash.

Will, Jack, and Lucy weren’t the only ones to lose a parent that night. Julian lost his dad when Bill and Lexy parted ways for more than fifteen years. Kyser-Brennan was set adrift, shuffled aside in the aftermath.

But I couldn’t tell anybody that story. Instead, I studied the expanse of blue-brown water racing past us beneath the bridge. We were more than half-way across Lake Ponchartrain, the giant brackish lake separating New Orleans from the rest of eastern Louisiana, on our way to Interstate 10. From there, it was a straight shot east all the way to South County.

“It
is
the most logical decision,” I said, shifting my mental focus. “They’re all heirs to this amazing thing their dads accomplished.”

“Well, he and Jack are at least.”

My bottom lip pulled between my teeth quickly. “Right.”

“Speaking of the guys, when’s Julian headed back in town?” She slanted her eyes at me with a grin, and for some silly reason I blushed.

“He said Wednesday, but you know how long that drive is.”

“Oh, man, no lie.” She shook her blond mane. “Still, I’m glad we did it. It was so cute reuniting you two. I swear, I almost cried.”

“Thanks,” I snorted, rolling my eyes. “Glad I’m a soap opera now.”

“More like a free romance. First you’re all mopey, dragging around campus like you lost everything to the hurricane. Then Brad and I swoop in like superheroes to produce the sweetest reunion scene this side of a Nicholas Sparks movie!”

“Jeez, Rachel.” Catching my hair in my hand, I propped my elbow on the doorframe, holding it in a tight bun at the base of my neck. “I do not feel patronized at all right now.”

She laughed. “Are you kidding? After that display of passion, we couldn’t get to the hotel quick enough. Old, practically married couples like us live for that shit.”

“Don’t be gross.” I snorted, and cut my eyes at her.

She started laughing, and so did I. We almost couldn’t stop for a minute.

“I think we’ve been in school too long,” I finally said, when I could breathe again.

“Definitely.” She took a deep breath and drummed her fingers on the wheel. “I’m planning to spend some part of every single day walking on the beach.”

“God, I miss it so much.” Propping my feet on the dash, the breeze fluttered my loose skirt around my knees.

“Hey, I don’t know if I’ve said it a thousand times yet, but I really love being roomies.” She gave me a quick, warm smile. “I’ll be sorry to see you go.”

I looked down and smiled before glancing up. “Don’t rent out my room so fast—I don’t have anything yet.”

“Oh, please. If there’s anything you’ve always been good at, it’s school.”

“I
think
that’s a compliment?”

“Of course it is! And your personal life’s coming around.”

“Maybe one day I’ll be as perfect as you and Brad.”

“Hmm… I’ll give you another twenty years.”

I shook my head, and the rest of the ride was spent singing too loudly along with the radio or brainstorming Christmas get-togethers with friends we hadn’t seen since July.