The Art of Appreciation (21 page)

“I’m sure something will work out. I know it.” Claire’s voice was muffled, and Matt peeked in to see the two women embracing.

He cleared his throat and walked into the kitchen. “Ready to go?” he asked Abby. “I think we’ll pass on the ice cream tonight.”

“I think Charles must have eaten it all anyway. Bastard,” Claire said fondly. She shrieked when Charles’s stealthy tiptoe across the kitchen ended with a wet kiss on the back of her neck. Matt and Abby laughed at his huge grin when his wife slapped at his shoulder.

Claire walked with Matt to his side of the car. “I know you were outside the door, creeper. Do something, or you’ll regret it for the rest of your life,” she murmured in his ear before returning to wrap her arm around Charles’s waist and wave goodbye.

Abby curled up on Matt’s sofa, not questioning his decision to bypass her cottage. She rested her hands on the arm of the sofa and laid her head on her hands, watching Matt build a small fire. “What a day,” she said when he returned to her with a blanket.

Matt sat beside her and covered them both. “Aside from the obvious, have you had fun?” He settled back, letting Abby adjust her head in the hollow of his shoulder.

“It’s been beyond wonderful,” Abby whispered, tightening her arm around Matt’s middle. They watched the flames for a while in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

Matt felt his heart clutch and then speed up when Abby started to sit upright. “I guess you should take me home. I’m bound to be rotten company for what’s left of tonight.”

He held on to her arm. “Then we’ll be rotten company together. I don’t want to take you home.”

“I don’t want to call a cab again, Matt. The drivers are going to start talking.”

“I don’t want you to call a cab either. Stay here.”

Abby stopped trying to sit up. She stared at Matt in mock shock. “An invitation to invade the Batcave again, or whatever the hell Chris called it? First woman ever?” Matt smiled. “Ever?” Abby demanded playfully, and he nodded. “Then I accept.” She snuggled against him again and smiled. “If I went back to the cottage I’d probably start packing anyway.” Her smile faded.

Matt hurt when he thought of Abby throwing the last suitcase into Sarah’s little car and driving away. “No. Stay,” he whispered into her hair.

“I said I would, goofus.”

Matt shifted her around until their heads were both resting against the back of the couch, facing one another. He brushed her hair over her ear. “No, Abby. Stay. Here. With me. Don’t leave with Sarah. Finish your vacation and give me time to work something out.”

“Matt…” Abby’s voice was shaky.

“Don’t say no.” He trailed a line of kisses from her mouth to her ear, where he whispered, “I’m not ready for you to go. Stay with me.”

Abby pushed on his shoulders. “This is crazy. You’re willing disturb your peace here for a relationship that’s been going for less than a month?”

“This has been the best summer of my life, and I stopped saying that about twenty years ago. I don’t want it to end yet.” He swallowed hard, ready to keep arguing until morning if he had to.

Abby hesitated. Doubt warred with hope in her eyes. Then she smiled. “Yes.”

Matt rose from the couch, drawing Abby with him, and they started moving toward his bedroom. “This is right; you know it,” he said.

Abby chuckled wryly. “I’m not sure it’s sensible, but it’s what I
want
.” She stopped him in the hall. “I don’t operate on ‘I want,’ ever, but this time I don’t care if I’m being stupid. I need one thing from you, though.” She cupped his face. “I need you to promise me that you’ll say something right away if you’re sorry for asking, even if it’s tomorrow, or a week from now. Promise me, Matt.”

“I promise.” He hesitated briefly before he leaned in to kiss her, moving slowly and gently. He groaned, hands tightening on Abby’s hips as his gentle explorations became more intense, but he let Abby decide when to move closer.

When she did, it was with infinite slowness, tormenting him first with her distance, then her body heat, and then the lightest brush of her breasts against his chest. “Tell me we won’t be sorry, Matt,” she murmured against his cheek, feathering kisses along his jaw. “I’ll believe you.”

Matt heard the vulnerability in her voice and gently disengaged her hands from his shirt, stepping back enough that he could see her eyes. “I think it’s going to hurt like hell when you have to go. I still want you to stay.”

Abby sighed out a shaky breath. “Thank you.”

A few minutes later, in his room, the moonlight coming through the open window limned Abby’s skin with silver as her skirt floated to the floor. Matt sat on the foot of the bed, eyes traveling from face to shoulders to hips to feet as Abby waited, seemingly unworried this time about her flaws. She had proof in clay of what he saw when he looked at her, and he was glad she was no longer nervous under his gaze.

“Will you come here?” he requested.

Abby walked over and stood in front of him.

With one hand, he reached out and touched her stomach with the tips of his fingers. Abby shivered, and Matt smiled. He trailed the same fingertips down her side, barely brushing the outer curve of her breast before ghosting over her sensitive ribcage, continuing over her hip, and down her thigh. After the third time, Abby gasped, and Matt looked up from following his hand with his gaze. “Is this okay?”

Abby laughed shakily. “Very okay. Really, really okay.”

Matt smiled and urged her onto the bed to lie next to him. “Then I’ll do it right,” he murmured, starting his explorations in earnest.

S
ARAH
L
EANED
B
ACK
on her hands on Abby’s bed, watching her friend pack the last few things from her dresser. “Are you sure about this, babes?” she asked again and shifted her weight to one hand to hold up the other in a wait motion. “I know, I’m driving you crazy, but…Abby, you just don’t do stuff like this. You dated Eric for two years, and moving in together never even flew onto your radar, and you’ve known Matt for what, like…two months? I mean…” She stopped, her mouth opening and closing in several aborted attempts at speech. She gave up and scratched her head vigorously in frustration.

Abby looked around for any loose items she might have missed. “Will you relax? You’ve gone on vacation with a guy, right? Right. I seem to remember two weeks in Barbados with…what the hell was his name? Jared? What’s the difference?”

Sarah flopped back on the bed with a groan. “I thought we agreed to never mention that vile name again. He’s an animal, not a guy.” Abby laughed, and Sarah rolled to her side and propped herself on her elbow with a serious look. She began ticking off points on her fingers. “And there are differences. First, it was half as long as this will be. B, I worked with him for almost a year before taking the highway to hell. Number three, I do—did—stupid shit like that all the time. Last…” Sarah stopped ticking off points and chewed her lip.

“Last?”

“I didn’t really care about Jared at all,” Sarah blurted out. “I liked his body, he made me laugh, and I saw a chance at an almost-free Caribbean vacation.” She flopped back again. “I hate being honest with myself. It’s exhausting. I’d rather live in ‘Sarah is a Perfect Princess’ land.” She sighed. “Anyway, that is so obviously not the case here. I’m totally self-absorbed, and even I can see that you’re in lo—”

“Sarah,” Abby warned.

“Yeah, I know, we’re not talking about it. And you don’t even believe in it anymore…but, Ab, won’t this make it harder when you come home? You are coming home, right?”

Abby sank down on the bed and laid her head on Sarah’s stomach. “A few weeks ago you were all gung ho about me dropping everything and moving here.”

Sarah grimaced. “That’s when I thought you would never in a million years do it. It sounds romantic until I think about you never coming home. Then shit gets real.”

Abby sighed. “Of course I’m coming home. I have a job and an apartment and a life in Boston.” None of that sounded appealing to her at the moment. “And, yes, staying will make it harder when I have to leave. But I don’t care. I…I have to do this.” Abby looked at her friend pleadingly, hoping that she was making sense.

Sarah’s face softened, and she stroked Abby’s hair back from her forehead. “I know,” she said. They were quiet for a moment, each lost in her thoughts.

“Well,” Sarah said, moving Abby’s head to the bed and sitting up with a groan, “thanks to David’s magic Visa, I’m flying home.” Her face lighted at the prospect. Abby wondered how long it would take until the late night calls between David and Sarah would become lean-across-the-pillow conversations. She’d lay odds on two days.

“At least you’ll have my car if it gets to be just…too much. Or too little.” Sarah gave her friend a slanted smile.

“Not much chance of that,” Abby answered, and they both snickered.

Grabbing Abby’s bags, Sarah headed for the door. “I’m done lecturing. I suck at it anyway.” She turned with an uncharacteristically sober look on her face and grasped Abby’s hand. “Just promise me, doll…promise me that you will leave if it hurts too bad. September is going to be a nightmare for you, you do realize that?”

“Yeah…” Abby answered. “Everything else around here finished?”

“She said, decisively changing the subject,” Sarah shot back with a grin. “Yes. All perfect and pristine…except for the damn stain on her loveseat, but her new, improved door should make up for that. She doesn’t have to know that Matt did the whole thing, right?”

“Not the loveseat.”

“No, that was all me. Or David. And I worried about you and Matt on the stupid thing.”

“Lalalalala, not listening.” Abby plugged her ears. “Let’s just get you to the airport before my ears start bleeding from all the details you’ve already offered.”

The drive into the city was uneventful, aside from a massive amount of teasing on both sides, and Abby dropped Sarah off at San Francisco International Airport after a flurry of kisses, hugs, exchanges of keys, and last minute messages to friends on both coasts.

After leaving her friend, Abby drove to Golden Gate Park to see some of the things she hadn’t had time to visit with Matt. Then she took the long way back to Santa Cruz, driving along the coast on Highway 1, pulling off at times to take in the magnificent views. Despite how calm she’d been in front of Sarah, the reality was that doing something so drastic as moving in with Matt, even if it was only for a month, was far out of her comfort zone, and she needed some time to herself. Finally pulling into the driveway at Matt’s house, she felt a flutter of mixed anxiety and excitement.

As she got to the front door, it eased open and Chris appeared, duffle bag slung over his shoulder and a smile on his face. “Hey, girl! I thought I heard your car. Where you been?”

“I decided to sightsee a bit. Hey, you don’t have to leave, Chris. I didn’t mean to kick you out.”

He set his bag down so he could use both hands to sweep his hair back into a rough ponytail. “Ain’t no big thing. Matt’s a good guy for letting me crash for as long as he has. And before you get that funny-ass stricken look on your face again, no, he didn’t ask me to leave.” Chris laughed. “Too late to stop the look. I’m staying at Jason’s.” He held up a hand. “I know, I know. But he turns out to be a pretty decent guy. He and his friend will be out of town a lot, so…” He shrugged and hefted his bag.

“If you’re sure,” Abby said uncertainly.

Chris grabbed the handles of both of her bags in his free hand and carried them into the living room, dropping them in the middle of the floor. “Hell, yes. No stress.” He glanced back toward the kitchen and lowered his voice. “You might want to let him know you’re back, though. He’s been doing his own version of batshit-crazy since lunchtime. His sculpture would be almost finished if he’d carved as much as he paced.” There was a beep from outside, and he smiled at Abby, ruffling her hair. “That would be Jason. Go set my cousin’s mind at ease, woman. Be good to each other.”

A half-minute later, he was gone, and Abby was left in the living room, looking down at her bags and chewing her lip. To take them right into Matt’s bedroom seemed forward, so she decided to leave them where they lay and to go look for her artist.

She found him in his studio. The set of his shoulders was tense, far more so than his sweeping strokes at the waistline of the sculpture should have indicated, and Abby regretted not having called him. She slid her arms around his middle and rested her forehead against his back. “Hi,” she said softly.

Matt stiffened; Abby had a moment’s horror that he was going to pull away from her before he relaxed. “Hi,” he answered in the same tone. He pressed her arms against his stomach before tossing the sculpting knife onto the revolving tabletop. “I thought maybe you got lost. Or decided not to come back.”

Abby turned him around. “I’m sorry. I never meant to worry you. You were so absorbed when I left this morning that I thought you might appreciate uninterrupted work time. Plus, I’m not used to checking in with anyone, I guess. Boy, this is a good beginning, isn’t it?”

Matt kissed her firmly. “Beginnings are usually awkward. I’m done here for tonight. Give me a few minutes to clean up, and then I want to hear about your day.”

She smiled, turning her face up, eyes closed, for another kiss before retreating to the kitchen. After rifling through the cupboards and fridge, she set to work on a simple pasta dish. She turned when Matt hummed in pleasure as he entered the room a few minutes later. “You didn’t have to do that, Abby. We could have gone out.”

Abby laughed. “My not-so-secret: you’ve taken in a terrible bore. I’d rather stay in than go out most any night. Sorry now?”

Matt pushed himself away from the counter and reached over Abby’s head to grab two plates from the cupboard. “Nope. I’m a homebody myself.” They smiled at each other, delighted to find they had something so basic in common. “Wine?”

With no pressure to rush, dinner was a pleasure, and Abby found herself talking more than she thought she would. Matt’s hands danced in the air as he described what he’d accomplished that day, and she smiled. Matt cleaned up after dinner, making short work of the few dishes. He grabbed a second bottle of wine and their glasses and headed for the living room when he was finished. He raised an eyebrow at Abby’s bags, still sitting in the middle of the room.

“I didn’t know what to do with them. I don’t want to put you out for space for a month.”

A shadow crossed Matt’s face as he passed his burdens to Abby and picked up the bags. “You’re not putting me out. I want you here. For however long, this is your home, okay?” He took her bags to his bedroom while Abby poured them both another glass of wine. When he returned, he asked, “So, what was your favorite thing during your sightseeing today?”

Abby curled up on the sofa. “The tea garden, I think. I was thinking how much my mom would like that.” She laughed. “She’s in a Japanese phase now. You should have seen the fit my dad had when she had her studio fitted out to fire raku pottery—expensive proposition.”

Matt’s eyes lighted with interest. He sat down beside Abby, pulling her feet onto his lap. “I didn’t know your mom was a sculptor. What does your dad do?”

Abby shook her head. “Mom’s more of a potter-slash-artist of all trades. Does a bit of everything. Dad’s a wood carver and furniture maker. They’re madly in love, when they’re not driving each other crazy.”

“Nice. So you come by this ‘art thing’ naturally.”

“You could say that. Mom decided early on that I was born to be a painter, so I think I held a brush before I could use a fork.” Her look turned pensive. “Funny thing was, I did love it, no matter what else I tried.” Emotions flickered across her face. “Anyway,” she said with forced brightness, “desire and talent don’t necessarily go hand in hand, do they? Tell me about teaching.”

Matt’s struggle to not question her further was plain on his face. Abby squeezed his hand gratefully as he let the topic drop, but she recognized that it would probably be revisited in the future. They talked well into the night, switching to water when the wine was gone, and when Abby felt Matt curl around her after making love, pulling her back against his chest and tightening his arm around her, she knew her decision to stay was the only possible choice she could have lived with.

As it turned out, giving Matt space to work was easier than Abby had anticipated. Preparations for the children’s art show ended up taking a lot more time than she had anticipated, though she had a suspicion that Claire was handing off more responsibility and making the event broader than it had been previously, partly because she had Abby’s help and partly because she wanted to keep her artist focused.

Though Abby had been slow to warm to the challenge of working with children, she’d gradually come to enjoy her long days with them. Watching the determination with which they attacked each task, completely assured that everything they created was a masterpiece, reminded of her of the joy she’d felt as she had clutched a paint brush under her parents’ loving eyes. She hadn’t felt that confident since childhood.

Thinking of her mother gave her an idea for a pottery project. A simple oven couldn’t be that difficult to construct. Maybe she could even convince Matt to let her borrow his kiln. Abby smiled, considering what type of payment she could offer.

“Matt!” She let the door slam behind her in her excitement. “Hey, I have an idea that needs your help.”

“Back here,” he answered, his voice already full of smiles.

Abby hurried through the house, dropping her bag on a kitchen chair. “I know you’ll love this…”

Her smile became fixed when she spotted the addition of an easel to Matt’s studio. Next to it was a low table covered with boxes, tubes, and brushes. Several blank canvases rested against the wall, and a large folder leaned against them.

Abby walked toward the table. She touched the items, lingering over the watercolors, a medium she’d not tried before. “Claire helped me pick that stuff out,” Matt said, his tone anxious. “I wasn’t sure which you preferred.”

Abby tried to sort out her mixed emotions, not wanting to say the wrong thing and create tension during their last couple of weeks together. She reached out with a finger to stroke the feathery-light ends of the brushes.

“I thought it would be a way for us to be together during the day without you feeling like you’re bothering me.”

“It has nothing to do with your ex talking about painting but never doing it? Because, honestly, Matt, I could live forever without—”

“Oh, God, no!” Matt’s expression was horrified. “Abby, just…no.” He walked over to take her hand. “I told you, I don’t even think about Kate at all. I just…” His expression was stormy. “I want you here with me, for as long as you can be.”