Why did it take him so long to come get me?
I put everything back in the drawer then looked out the window over the terrace. Despite the storm that had happened the night before, it was a sunny day. The sun wasn’t as bright and it had a hint of fall, but it was still beautiful.
I spotted Conway on the terrace, sitting in his swim trunks while he drank his coffee and read the newspaper. He’d obviously had a swim, so he was back to exercising. And the omelet and toast on his plate was a good sign too.
I made my way downstairs, and I encountered Dante in the hallway.
“Sapphire, I’m so glad you’re back.” It was the nicest thing he’d ever said to me, especially since he usually didn’t say anything at all. “Conway asked for a big breakfast with a basket of toast. And he even went for a swim. He’s so much better. You make him better.” Dante smiled then walked back into the kitchen.
I moved outside to the terrace and saw Conway sitting under the umbrella. The water had dried off his skin, but his hair had flattered and was still a little damp. He looked up from his newspaper when he heard me, and that handsome smile slowly infected his face.
I leaned down and kissed him. “Morning.”
“Morning.” He cupped my face and rubbed his nose against mine. Rubbing noses was the kind of affection I saw between happy couples, so I guessed that meant we were a happy couple. “How’d you sleep?”
“Like a rock.” I sat in the chair across from him, and when I saw the breakfast laid out in front of me, I released a sigh of happiness. I’d missed mornings like this, when Dante would prepare a fresh omelet and fresh baked bread. Everything was so peaceful here, so slow. There seemed to be an endless amount of time to do anything. In New York, it was about constantly being on the go. There never seemed to be enough time to do everything.
But here, time wasn’t an issue at all.
I sipped my coffee and savored the smooth taste. The mug was warm in my fingertips, and the fresh omelet with sun-dried tomatoes was delicious. In New York, I had to cook for myself, and no matter how hard I tried, it never turned out anything like this.
Conway folded his newspaper and set it to the side. He sipped his coffee and stared at me, giving me his undivided attention the way he usually did in the evenings.
“You can keep reading your paper.”
“I’d rather look at you.”
Instantly, I melted like a piece of chocolate on top of warm dough. I’d dreamed about this man every night for three months. I’d imagined these conversations, these tense expressions. I’d imagined being the center of his world again.
“What are your plans today?” he asked.
I could get to the stables while the weather was still nice or take a last-minute dip in the pool while it was still warm. But there was something much more important that needed to be done. “We need to get to work in the studio, Con.”
“You just got back. We can take a few days.”
“No.” There was nothing I wanted more than to take a ride on the horses to see that view of Verona again. I wanted to spend all my time with Conway, making love under the oak tree or sipping coffee together. But there wasn’t time for that. “You’ve fallen behind, and we’re in a serious time crunch now.”
The corner of his lip rose in a smile.
“So let’s focus on that. When you’re done with your line, we’ll take the time to do something else.”
“Anything in mind?” he asked.
I would love another trip to Greece or somewhere else beautiful, but just being locked away in his bedroom was enough. “Making love.”
“Good answer.”
We finished breakfast then moved to the third floor. The table was covered with an assortment of fabrics, and his sketchbook was flipped to a white page with random scribbles on it. He’d made one drawing, scratched it out, and tried to draw another drawing on top of it. One day on top of the other, it showed his inability to stick with one idea. Anytime I saw him press his pencil to the paper in the past, he always sketched a beautiful piece—on his first try.
He dropped his bathing suit bottoms and changed into his sweatpants, but he kept his chest bare. His tan had faded slightly from being indoors all the time, but being exposed to the sun for the last hour had made his skin glow again.
He surveyed the mess on the table, his biceps clenched hard in displeasure. “My mind has been unfocused lately…”
I organized the different pieces of fabrics and hung them up on the organizer. Then I arranged his tools, his pins as well as his special pair of scissors. I put everything back the way he liked because his arrangement had been seared into my memory.