“We are not going home to sit and stare at the door or walls. Anyway, I’m pretty sure they’ll accommodate us with a special order of grilled chicken breast and some steamed vegetables, Bee. Now stop being so grumpy and get over it.”
“Easy for you to say, you didn’t just serve the man you love with a restraining order.”
No, but I’d dropped Vincent’s phone call and any chance at working things through in order to be with her, and I kind of resent her resentment. As if what I’m doing for her means nothing. As if it’s a fly in her fucking ointment.
I want to scream at her and tell her to quit her bratty whining and get a backbone, till the doctor’s voice pops into my head, reminding me that this would not be easy.
“I’m part of that shit list he has going too,” I remind her. “He’s not exactly pleased with me either. And I kind of broke up with Vincent today, so I’m not having a great time of it either, you know.”
She pulls back and groans.
“Shit, Sis, I am so sorry. Here I am complaining like a five-year-old. Is this because of me and all the time we’re spending together?”
“Nah. He’s just being a dick, so I cut it short.”
Not a good idea at the moment. For one thing, I’m bummed about not finishing the landscapes, or the portrait still standing in his bedroom, and for another, I was banking on the commission he was going to pay me.
I suspect I’m either going to have to hit it lucky and sell a few more paintings through Vern—fingers crossed—or call my daddy to float us for a month or two. I don’t want to, but I will. For Bee.
Chapter Thirteen
The rest of the day doesn’t go too badly. After a hearty late lunch and an almost painful effort to raise her spirits, I drag us both home and go up to the eyrie.
I want to pack away the portraits and start a new one, something that will consume me long enough to get over Vincent, something to bolster me for our meeting tomorrow.
“Sis, you want a cup of tea or something?”
I look down from my perch in front of my bare canvas and see Bee puttering around in the kitchen in her pajamas, her hair bundled up and messy, but shinier than I’ve seen it in days.
“Yeah, thanks. You washed your hair?”
“Yup, and I used that swanky hair mask your mom sent last month. That stuff is awesome!” she yells, and I grin when she walks up the stairs, two cups and a tub of peanut butter in her hands.
“The doc ain’t going to like you messing with stuff that isn’t in his plan,” I warn, taking the cup to sip at the hot, sweet tea.
“He can kiss my ass. If I have to get over this shit and get a lard ass I’m gonna do it eating things I like. Besides, peanut butter is a food group. So whatcha doing?”
“Trying to start a new series.”
She eyes the blank canvas and frowns, shaking her head.
“The two of us are a pathetic pair, you know that? Here we are, hung up on two idiots. We should burn their shit in a freedom ceremony or something.”
“Yeah,” I snort, flicking my eyes at the portraits I’d stacked against the wall, their fronts facing away from me. “That should really help. If we don’t get arrested first.”
“Know what I think, Sis? I think you should go see him tomorrow, with an open mind and not thinking he’s an ass. He did do me a favor, and I think…he’s nicer than he seems.”
“I thought you were warning me off.”
She sighs and licks at her empty spoon.
“I don’t want this thing with Eric to turn me into one of those nasty women who hate all men. I want to be loved again someday and…I want the same for you. Stop ignoring his calls and give it a try. Don’t let my shit color your relationship.”
We both go to bed after that, even though it’s barely past eight. I’m drained and need the oblivion of sleep to stop the thoughts swirling in my head.
I don’t want to think that Bee’s right, that I overreacted the day Vincent had called because I was tripping over this mess and the power that he had over me.
I know it’s true; I just don’t want to admit it to myself. Not yet, anyway.
***
A noise wakes me, and I roll over to check the clock, groaning when I see that it’s just past two in the morning. I’d been having a really good dream about Vincent and his tongue skills, and I want nothing more than to go back to sleep and chase the sensations I’d been feeling.
I hear the noise again and mutter under my breath, flinging the covers aside. If I find Bee wandering around in the dark again like I have so many times lately, I will kick her ass. She knows how much I hate that creepy shit.