"Take me home," Sage begged as they piled out of a taxi in front of the gallery where she and Tyce met again several months ago. She frowned at Piper. "Why are we here? They don't have an exhibition scheduled. And why are all the lights off?"
"It's an exhibition by a Norwegian installation artist, something to do with bioluminescence," Piper replied, tucking her hand into Sage's arm. "It's got to be dark to see the effect of the art."
"Don't want to go," Sage said, digging her heels in and looking at the cab. "I'm tired and my ankles are swollen and I have a backache."
Okay, she was whining but she couldn't do art, any type of art, right now. Was she asking too much to be allowed to nurse her weeping, bleeding heart in peace? Her mind was too full of Tyce as it was; memories of what they did and said to each other replayed on the megascreen of her mind, and coming back to this place, the place where they met, was simply too much for her.
She missed him so much she felt like she was walking around with a fraction of her heart.
"You're not far along enough to be complaining about a backache and swollen ankles," Cady told her, placing a hand in the middle of her back and pushing her toward the door.
"And you're not carrying twin boys so I have no sympathy for you," Piper added.
Tate rubbed Piper's big bump and smiled. "Fifteen minutes, Sage, and then we will take you wherever you want to go."
Sage perked up at that suggestion. "Home?"
"If that's what you want," Tate replied as they walked up the flight of stairs to the front door. Tate pulled the door open and ushered her into the dark gallery. Sage rolled her eyes at the complete darkness. Honestly some of these exhibitions were just ridiculous and in trying to do something weird and wonderful they forgot to be practical. How was she supposed to see the art if she couldn't see two inches in front of her face? Anyone could trip, she could bump into people...
Speaking of, why didn't she hear any chatter, why was the gallery so very silent?
Light flooded into the room and Sage blinked, her eyes needing a moment to refocus. Well, that was going to ruin the impact of the bioluminescence.
Sage immediately, instinctively, looked right to the spot where she first met Tyce and frowned at the massive blue abstract oil hanging on the wall. It held the outline of what looked like a woman's back and bottom and to the right of where her head should be; she could clearly see a fist-size hole in the canvas.
Sage gasped, recognizing the painting as being the one Tyce pushed her against when he made love to her that night in his studio. Barely breathing, she slowly looked around the gallery and when she saw what was on the walls, the room started to spin.
All his portraits were hanging on the walls, a good portion of which were of her. There were some of his mom, some of Lachlyn, many of random New Yorkers-from street people to buskers and servers-and they were all fantastic. Only the big blue abstract painting and the portraits of her, and of Lachlyn and his mom, had not-for-sale stickers on them.
Sage held her face, in awe of his talent. It was a small exhibition, roughly and quickly tossed together but it was that much more powerful for it. This wasn't slick and smooth, it was rough and tender and...open. This was Tyce allowing the world to look inside.
That type of vulnerability took courage and heart. So much heart. Pity that she had no claim on it.
Sage heard heavy footsteps behind her and slowly turned to watch Tyce walk across the room toward her, hands in the pockets of a pair of black dress slacks, his white dress shirt tucked in. God, he was so beautiful, Sage thought, in the most masculine way. Tough and tall, with his enigmatic eyes and strong face.
Sage's first instinct was to throw herself into his arms, to gush over his art, to demand to know why he was holding this portrait exhibition. Why now? Why here, at this place from their past? Then she remembered that this was the man who'd tossed her love away, who'd rejected her heart. She didn't know why she was here-her sisters-in-law were in big, big trouble.
Overwhelmed, Sage turned around and headed toward the door, tears burning her eyes.
"Please don't cry. And please don't go," Tyce quietly said and she heard the longing and uncertainty in his voice. She stopped but kept her back to him, furiously brushing tears away with her fingertips.
Sage felt Tyce's big hands on her shoulders before his hands moved down her arms and encircled her waist, holding her against him. "Please don't go," he whispered, his mouth against her temple.
"Why should I stay?"
"You should stay-" Tyce's voice rumbled in her ear "-because I am the world's biggest idiot for letting you go, then and now. You should stay because you make my world brighter, my thinking clearer, my world turn. You should stay because we have a baby to raise and I'd like us to do that together."
Sage felt the first sparks of hope and ruthlessly smothered them. She pushed against his arm and he immediately released her. He looked tired, she thought, drawn, his face whiter than normal. His eyes glinted with uncertainty and worry and an emotion that went deeper than that, that might be, dare she think it, love?
"I'm sorry I wasn't brave, before." Tyce cradled her face in his hands and kissed her softly, his lips giving hers a quick caress. She wanted more and judging by his tense body, so did he but he drew back and lifted his mouth from hers. "I want us to stop hoping and dreaming and be more."
Sage stared at him, uncomprehending.
"I want you in my bed and in my life, being the first person I see every morning and the last person I see at night. I want that for the rest of my life. I want our kid, or kids, to fly into our bedroom and jump on the bed, on us. I want us, Sage. You and me. I need you."
God, she felt so humbled, so in awe of his courage to do this again, to open himself up to her again.
"I know that your instinct is to push me away, Sage, but I'm asking you not to. And I'm telling you that if you do, every time you do, I'm going to hold you tighter, love you more." Tyce pushed her hair off her forehead and rested his head on hers. "One more time, Sage, please. Be brave, for us. Take a chance on me."
"Tyce." Sage gripped his arms, feeling dizzy.
"Is that another no?" Tyce asked, worry in his eyes. No, not worry, soul-deep fear.
"No, it's not a no. I mean... God, yes. Please." Sage knew that she was messing up her words and cursed her thick tongue.
"You're going to have to be clearer than that, honey."
Yes, she realized that. Holding his arms for balance, she looked up into his exotic, sexy face, the one she'd missed so much. "I'll be brave-I'm not going to push you away, I promise."
"And you don't break your promises," Tyce murmured as a spark returned to his eyes.
"I promise to love you, whether we have six weeks or sixty years."
"I'm planning on sixty years," Tyce told her.
Sage lifted her arms and wound them around Tyce's neck.
Tyce kissed her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth as she murmured the words she so needed to say, that he needed to hear. "I love you. I miss you. I'm so, so sorry I hurt you."
Their kisses were softer, gentler, simply tasting their new beginning, testing out how love felt in sunlight instead of shadows. Passion rumbled but they both pushed it away; passion was for later. This was something new, something that needed a little attention, a bit of nurturing.
Five, ten or twenty minutes could have passed when Tyce pulled his mouth and hands off her but was keeping her plastered against his long frame. Sage rested her cheek against his chest and nodded. This was where she belonged.
Tyce's hand stroked her hair. "We still need to talk, sweetheart."
Sage wrinkled her nose. "Do we have to? I'm kind of liking this."
Tyce smiled, pure sunshine in his eyes. Yeah, those shadows were gone and it was about time.
"I am too but we have a bunch of people in the back room and they are getting anxious."
"What? Who? Carol and her assistants?" Sage asked, thinking of the gallery owner and her staff. She gestured to his art. "And is this a real exhibition? Are you going to sell your portraits?"
Tyce looked around. "Yeah, I think so. Should I keep it low-key like this or give it to a high-end gallery?"
"I like this," Sage replied, walking into the middle of the room but keeping her hand in his. "I think the portraits need a smaller, more intimate space. I think you should keep it as it is but-" she pointed to the ruined abstract in that prominent position "-that goes." She sent him an amused look. "I thought we had an agreement about you not exhibiting anything that had any connection to our love life."
Tyce wrapped his arm around her waist. "It stays. It makes me laugh."