Up to Date (Better Date than Never Book 8) (11 page)

“I only missed last month.” Her mouth dropped, and she held up a finger. “And, well, maybe the month before that. Um, wait . . .”

“Don’t worry, I have a tally and you’re going to pay me back. All of it, squint.” I nearly laughed at the adorable pouty face she was made, but she wouldn’t weasel out of her responsibilities this time. “And forget the guy at the gym, for now, and just go for it with Liam. He sounds like a nice guy. Stop using your one-date rule to protect yourself, and have some fun already. Who cares that it’s a third date? Getting to know a guy can be good.”

Almond-brown eyes appeared in my head, dancing, and filling a hole in my heart that I hadn’t even known had been there.

Mary Ann tapped her finger against her cheek. “Liam is awfully cute with that goatee . . .”

“Is that all?” My mom seemed to hold her breath.

“No.” I smiled, shaking my head. “Also . . . I love you both. Very much.”

“Oh.” Mom slipped her arms around us. “I can handle that. And I love you girls, too.”

Mary Ann squeezed us both, then gazed up at me. “How much work will you force out of me, anyway?”

Thinking of the little corner she’d painted last week at a snail’s pace, I said. “It’ll seem like forever to you.”

Then I laughed. My family may not be perfect, but they were mine.

Chapter Eight

Mary Ann may not have been happy with the tasks I assigned to her, but she came through for me all week long. I mostly had her returning stuff, wide appeal items I’d no longer be using. If a client wanted neutral décor, then hiring Up to Date by Ginger Nielsen would not be the way to go.

My muse still escaped me. The colorful painting I’d started for Greg’s living room rested against my easel, going nowhere fast. I took my evening run on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, but could no longer get into my happy zone. I couldn’t clear my head. Thoughts of Greg circled my mind, as if the tiny cracks he’d caused in my protective wall had ripped wide open.

It made no sense. I needed to focus on fulfilling my career dreams. I needed to amaze Jenna with this decorating project so that my life’s plan would fall into place. Even though that life plan couldn’t involve Greg.

By Thursday evening, I’d purchased everything I needed to finish the decorating project, and the necessities were all stacked in Greg’s living room. Now the fun part—putting the new items where they belonged. Mary Ann had a third date with Liam tonight, so I would fly solo tonight. I met Liam in person when he picked her up, and he seemed to adore Mary Ann. I was proud of my little sis for breaking her rules and taking a chance with a guy. A big step for her.

I hiked upstairs to decorate, put the key in the lock, and was surprised when the door jerked open. I stared at Greg, blinking. “H-Hi.”

“Hi, yourself.” His smile was friendly, as always, but the sparkle in his eyes that used to greet me wasn’t there. I felt its absence like a knife to my chest, but tried to pretend I didn’t.

I double-checked my watch. “I thought you would’ve left for work already.”

He leaned against the doorjamb. “Mary Ann told me she had a hot date tonight. That makes me your only assistant. Where should I start?”

“What are you talking about?” I eased inside, kicked off my shoes, then crossed my arms. “It’s Thursday. You work tonight.”

He shut the door, then turned to face me. “This is your last night to pull everything together for the project. I know how much this means to you, so there’s no way I’d abandon you.”

My dad had missed countless events that were important to me growing up. The emergency room always came first. Every single time. “H-How did you get the night off?”

“I traded shifts with another person.” He shrugged. “Turns out she needed a different night off for her kid’s school play.” His gaze cut through me. “Bottom line, I’m here for you. I told you that before, and I meant it.”

My throat tightened. “This is too much trouble for you to go through for something that is my problem. It feels like I’m taking advantage of your friendship.”

“You’re still not hearing me.” He stepped forward then, and did something he hadn’t done since I’d called things off—he touched me. All he did was brush my shoulder briefly, but the zings that zipped through me were unstoppable. His eyes peered into mine. “You don’t have to do everything alone.”

His words stormed through me, shaking me to my core. He’d knocked down so many of my beliefs. That the stress of an emergency room doctor was too much for a person to handle. That the demanding job would leave no time for family—or a thoroughly confused downstairs neighbor, as the case may be—and that there might be a man in this world who’d be there for me, who’d believe in me. . . .

“Thank you.” I choked on my words. Partly because I was touched, but also because a wave of sadness washed over me. Even though Greg was here for me, he wasn’t
mine
, and I’d never felt more alone.

****

The condo project was complete except for the unfinished living room painting that sat on my easel, mocking me. I’d picked up my paintbrush hundreds of times, unable to swipe so much as one stroke, because every idea felt
wrong
. The pressure mounted inside me. If I didn’t finish this painting, I’d have to use the country landscape that hung there now, which was lovely in its own way, but in no way encompassed the personality of my client or a Ginger Nielsen design.

Finally, when my back throbbed from sitting cross-legged at my desk so long staring at my unfinished work, I gave in to my fatigue and eased into my bed. It was the middle of the night but, with Greg home, I didn’t have to worry about The Skipper being alone in his carrier. Instead, all I could think about was his owner.

Greg told me he loved the final rooms of the project, but I knew in my heart something was missing—the living room painting that eluded me. My eyes were heavy, I tossed and turned, but sleep refused to come. Eventually, I climbed out of bed.

Glancing at the clock, I noted the early hour as I stepped into my jogging shorts, then pulled a running shirt over my head. I tied my long hair back into a ponytail, slipped out the front door into the dark morning, and started to run.

My feet pounded the pavement. I’d been unable to lose myself in my runs all week long, so I didn’t even try. As my arms pumped in rhythm with my legs, my breathing followed suit but, even after several miles, no euphoric feelings greeted me.

Tears burned my eyes, but I charged my legs faster, and sprinted longer than ever before. All my mistakes had finally caught up to me, encompassing every cell of my being, until all forms of peace were out of my reach, along with my muse. Maybe I’d screwed up big time. Maybe I was wrong about not wanting kids like Greg suggested. I couldn’t tell what I thought or felt anymore. I just wanted to run, escape, leave everything behind.

Then, suddenly, it happened. Light broke through the darkness, stretching its yellow fingers across the sky, transforming my thoughts instantly. The storm in my head receded and the big ball of radiant yellow calmed me, healed me, and spoke to me—until only one image remained in my mind. Greg. And he smiled at me, his almond-brown eyes sparkling with all of the love and hope of a new day.

Pumping my legs even faster, I turned toward home with an uncontrollable urge to finish that painting on my easel. Because now I knew what those bright splashes across my paper had been trying to tell me, and I was finally ready to listen.

****

When Jenna arrived on Friday afternoon, Greg’s condo was the epitome of perfection. Not perfect in the sense of appealing to the bulk of
Sacramento Living’s
readership, but perfectly representing a combination of my client and me, which was how I should’ve proceeded all along.

Now, it didn’t matter to me if Jenna liked my creation or if she’d recommend me to her friends. I’d put my soul into this project, and designed something that I loved. Now I believed in my talent, and in myself. Even if I had to hold down another job to pay the bills, I’d build my business one step at a time because this was my dream, and I wouldn’t let anything stand in my way ever again.

Greg leaned against the wall and I stood next to him as Jenna returned from the master bedroom and surveyed the living room. Bright pillows matched the drapes. A lattice pattern rug spread its corners under the coffee table and connected the room with coordinating hues. I’d found a wooden centerpiece that added a touch of the outdoors, and I’d tucked a large ficus tree in the corner by the sliding glass door.

The new sofa and loveseat were inviting. We’d mounted the TV on the corner wall, which made the big black screen still useable but less prominent. And what pulled the entire room together, of course, was the large painting of the sunrise displayed on the main wall.

“Sensational.” Jenna snapped photos successively as she spoke. “Dramatic. Exquisite. I feel like I need a thesaurus,” she laughed.

A deep, calmness swept over me. I immediately glanced up to find almond-brown eyes peering down at me. His gaze felt warm and kind, but they still didn’t sparkle.

When Jenna left, raving about how she was sure my business would be the next big thing in Sacramento, I turned to Greg and knew this was the end. There was no reason for me to return. I didn’t need to come up to decorate. We didn’t need to see each other at all.

“I’d say Jenna is a big fan.” He reached down and swooped up The Skipper, who’d been rubbing against his ankle. Greg’s gaze connected with mine. “How do you feel?”

Without him? Sad. Empty. Lonely. . . .

It took massive effort to form a smile, which I hoped didn’t look as phony as it felt. “I’m excited about the article. It will be fantastic exposure for
Founding Friendships
, and for my new business. I hope you got your money’s worth from the auction.”

“Beyond.” His gaze darted to the painting, and his eyes darkened. “That painting is priceless. I’m mesmerized by the vivid colors, the brush strokes, everything. It’s you.”

“No, it’s
you
,” I said, firmly, shaking my head. “No matter what comes, you’re up at dawn, ready to take on the challenge of a new day. You make life better. Me, I run at sunset, holding everything in, just waiting for the day to end.”

His eyes hardened. “Is that how you see yourself?”

A rock formed in my throat, and I lifted my shoulders at the ugly truth. “You’re brave. I’m a coward.”

“You’re wrong.” He growled, his jaw tightening, his eyes spitting fire. “You donated your decorating services to your friend’s auction, even though exposing your art scared you senseless. Your sister’s a grown woman, but you carried the burden of her bills so she didn’t have to worry about it. You chose the career your parents wanted, turning your back on your passion, trying to make them happy.”

As he paused to take a breath, the rock in my throat shifted into a boulder. The heat behind my eyes boiled, threatening to spill over. . . .

“You’re
not
a coward. Far from it.” He stepped toward me, his features intense, and words final. “You’re the sunshine in everyone’s life, and you can’t even see it. You give to others all day long, holding back what you want until late in the evening when you finally allow yourself an hour to run. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

I shook my head, hot tears seeping down my cheeks. “I’m not, though.”

“You are.” His eyes steeled, unwavering. “You just don’t realize it yet.”

Every cell in my body wanted to crumple in his arms. I’d fought so hard to keep Greg from seeping into my soul, but somehow he’d snuck inside anyway. A strong woman wouldn’t let this amazing man give up on his dreams of family, though. I couldn’t let that happen. I
wouldn’t.

“I have to go.” I swiped at my cheeks and swallowed the lump in my throat. “Thank you again for letting me decorate your place, for helping me, for everything.”

Then I slipped out the door, leaving my heart behind me.

****

“Pass the toilet paper.” Kristen held her hand out, and a big white roll dropped in her palm. She unraveled the end, then wound the tissue trail around my waist and between my legs, diapering me. “Smile like a baby with gas, Ginger. We’re being recorded, and we’re in it to win it.”

Widening my stance as Kristen looped the toilet paper through, I made a face at the video camera Rach held in front of me. “Happy baby shower, Ellen, but I’m not sure this is a moment I want frozen forever. Maybe Rach can go film Gina, since she won that diaper-poo game by guessing all of the correct candy bars.”

Rach’s mouth spread into a grin. “One of the perks of her sweet tooth is winning a coffee shop gift card during a baby shower game.”

“This shower is perfect, Rach. All of this time you worried for nothing.” I dipped my head in Kaitlin’s direction, where she was rapidly diapering Ellen’s grandma-in-law with way too much gusto. Even with age on our side, they were totally going to beat us—especially since Kristen moaned every time she bent over. I pointed toward the elderly lady in the fancy tissue-built diaper. “Now, go record a team who has a chance.”

“But you look totally adorable, baby Ginger.” Rachel giggled, then moved on with her camera. Finally.

“Nobody had better try to burp me after this.” I stared down at the mess Kristen was creating, counting down the seconds until the timer went off. I watched her face go green as she bent over again, and I reached for her arm. “Give it up, sweetie. You look like you’re going to be sick.”

“Don’t say that ‘s’ word again.” Kristen covered her mouth with her hand, then fanned her face. “I’m fine.”

My brows knitted when Kristen sucked in breath, and made a move to continue diapering me. I grabbed her tissue paper-filled hand. “Let it go, girl. It’s just a game, and not worth passing out over when we’re so obviously embracing last place.”

“You’re right.” She tucked the end of the toilet paper into the waistband of my pathetic excuse for a diaper. Kristen would totally need to hire a nanny with her sad skills. Then she closed her eyes, touched her belly, and her face contorted as if a wave of nausea were hitting her. Wait a minute. . . .