Hearing me enter he looks at me with wide eyes. “Is this shit for real?” His face is full of shock and disbelief. I can’t help but crack up laughing at his reaction. “Please tell me you didn’t make Nate watch this shit. No wonder I’m single if that’s what marriage is.”
Still laughing, I answer him, “No I didn’t, but that is what a good husband should do for his wife.” I try to make my reply sound serious.
“If by some miracle I do ever get married, I’ll be writing it into the vows that I don’t have to watch any shit reality TV.” The sound of the word marriage from Saxon’s lips makes me stop. I tilt my head and stare at him. I bet he would make a wonderful husband.
“What?” he asks.
Shaking my head I quickly try to divert as I head to grab my purse and phone. “So where are we going?”
Saxon narrows his eyes, studying me before he processes my question. “They have that international mobile art exhibit on this month downtown, and I thought you would enjoy it. This is the last weekend.”
I stop mid-step and turn to stare at him. An art exhibit? I know Saxon has absolutely no interest in art, and he is completely doing it for my benefit. I pull in a sharp breath, and my stomach flips a little. I never would have thought he could be so selfless, thoughtful, and sweet.
“It’s right on the river just down from the markets, and I thought we could hit those after lunch,” he continues, not noticing my shock, or choosing to ignore it.
“That sounds wonderful,” I say. And it does. His face lights up in that wide smile of his, and I can’t help but return it as he stands from the couch to go.
Locking up the house, I turn to see Saxon’s Dodge in the driveway. How did I not hear it this time? He smiles wide at me as he holds open the passenger door, and I lower myself into the black muscle car.
He makes his way around and sits in the driver’s seat next to me as I look over, and it hits me that today I’m spending the day with the real Saxon. The Saxon few people get to see. For some reason this excites me more than any art exhibit.
“You look lovely today, Brooke,” he says quietly as he keeps his eyes on the road.
“Thank you.” I smile shyly. “You look different than I’m used to.” I try to break the tense moment.
Saxon chuckles. “Yes, I suppose I do.”
We ride in comfortable silence the rest of the way to the exhibit. When we arrive he parks the car and comes around to open my door.
We walk down the river bend to the exhibit. It feels weird walking next to someone I’ve become so close with, who I now know so intimately, and not be touching in some way. An arm around the shoulders or holding hands. Something. It’s almost awkward.
As I enter the exhibit it feels like coming home, seeing an old friend after years apart. I didn’t understand how much I missed my volunteer time at the gallery.
Saxon follows me around for the better part of an hour. He doesn’t bother me with small talk and just lets me take it all in and enjoy it.
I find myself standing in front of an abstract painting of a young woman’s face. Very few colours are used, and her face almost looks blank, except her eyes. Her eyes tell a whole story and show all kinds of emotions. I can’t read them, and I don’t know her story, yet I feel like her face is a mirror image of my own. My face blank. My days expressionless. Will my life ever have colour again? Each stroke adds another dimension to the picture and elicits another feeling and response.
I’m brought back to reality by the warmth of Saxon’s body stepping up behind mine. A few tears have broken free and I wipe them away quickly before he can notice. His warm breath floats over the back of my neck and my body shivers in response.
“Do you miss it?” he whispers into my ear. “Working at the art gallery?”
“More than I realised,” I say wistfully.
He places his hands on my shoulders and turns me to face him. Raising a hand, he cups my face and runs his thumb across my cheek, wiping another tear which has fallen. “Brooke, you know you could have one or two days a week to volunteer at the gallery. You don’t need to be at Argo full-time. Hell, you don’t need to be there at all if it doesn’t make you happy. You know I’ll take care of it.” The concern in his eyes has my body relaxing.
I smile up at him. “Saxon, I love being at Argo. It’s been the most positive thing to happen to me since losing Nate. I love knowing I’m helping keep his dreams alive.”
“Nate would hate how you’ve given up your passion and love for his. He would want you at that gallery, Brooke, and you know it. I can help you do that.” There is sadness in his eyes.