Casey squinted against the bright morning sunlight streaming in through the kitchen window. Seven o’clock had come way earlier than she would have liked, and she’d had to drag herself out of bed to keep Andy from helping himself to whatever he wanted in the apartment. Adding a full load of classes at the art school to her already demanding schedule was taking its toll, but she had no regrets, only an emotional hangover some nights after spending much of the day around Leighton and dark circles under her eyes some mornings, like this one.
A wet towel landed over the back of the chair beside her, making her jump, and she looked up to see Mark ruffling Andy’s hair.
“Morning, buddy.” He dropped his phone onto the table and opened the refrigerator.
“Can you not?” She whipped the towel from the chair and tossed it into the corner. “It warps the wood.”
“Case, these chairs are like a hundred years old and don’t even match.” He drank from the jug of milk, capped it, and put it away.
She snapped her toast in half and gave the larger piece to Andy. “They’re the only ones we have. We need to take care of them. And if we’re all going to share the same milk, you need to use a glass.”
Mark lifted the table by the corner and toed the makeshift shim back in place before sitting beside her. “Sorry. It’s a bad habit I picked up in college. I’ll try to remember.” He scooted closer and draped his arm around her shoulders. “Look,” he pointed out the window, “it’s a beautiful day. Right, Andy? Why’s your momma all riled up?”
Andy ignored him and took a bite of cereal, most of the milk splashing back into the bowl or onto his bib, only a few Cheerios making it into his mouth.
“Are there blueberries in there? Are you going to give me some?” Mark pretended to try and steal one.
Andy wrapped his arms around his bowl and grinned. “No.”
How could she remain irritated when they were so darned cute?
Mark leaned back in his chair, balancing on two legs, and rifled through the cupboard.
One of the benefits of having a small kitchen was having everything in reach.
He pulled out a granola bar. “Want one?”
Casey shook her head and drank her tea.
Mark’s chair landed back on all fours with a thump and a creak.
Even the crinkling of his wrapper made Casey sigh. Why was she so on edge today? She didn’t know, but it felt like everything was coming to a head. All the emotions she’d been dealing with for weeks suddenly seemed too much, too overwhelming.
He leaned in and bumped her with his shoulder. “Are we going to watch in silence as the handsome little man eats, or do you want to talk about it?”
She didn’t answer. He was her closest friend, but how could she explain what she’d been going through? She was confused and frustrated—and pining for her teacher? God, she was a cliché.
Mark shifted even closer. “Okay, here’s my final offer. I’ll make you my famous fried eggs, if you’ll tell me what’s bothering you.” He flicked her mug. “You can’t go all morning on half a piece of toast and tea.”
She allowed herself to smile. Eggs sounded good. “Do we have any?”
He leapt up. “Only two, but that’ll do. I’ll pick some up from the bodega after work.” A pan landed on the burner. “Talk, Norford. I don’t cook for free. Are you worried about money?”
Casey shrugged. No more so than any other day. “No.” She let the warmth of her tea seep into her icy hands.
“School?” The open refrigerator swallowed his voice as he reached in for the eggs and butter.
Casey exhaled loudly. “Sort of.” She wanted to add unfortunately, but she didn’t. “Ever since we’ve started studying at AV, there’s been something going on that I haven’t mentioned.”
He turned, concern on his face. “What?”
“Okay, not going on. That’s the problem.” She held her head in her hands.
Andy touched her arm, leaving a wet mark.
Casey smiled and kissed his elbow. What a sweetie. “It’s okay, baby. Momma’s fine.” She watched Mark crack the eggs into the pan. “It’s Leighton.”
Mark glanced over his shoulder. “What’s that mean?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m imagining it.” Second thoughts about sharing crept in, and she dismissed them. She had to get it out, if only to see if Mark thought she was crazy. “It shouldn’t be happening, but it’s not getting any easier, and it isn’t going away.”
Mark turned to face her. “Wait. Leighton isn’t…You know, being,” he stumbled over his words, “inappropriate?”
It took a second for his meaning to register. Then she gasped. “Oh! No! It’s not like that.”
He blew out a breath and turned to the stove. “Okay, then. Case, normally I’m a bright guy, but you’re going to have to dumb this down so I can understand. What isn’t going away?”
Casey steeled herself. She had to say it. “I like her.” She cleared her throat. “I’m attracted to her.”
He paused, spatula in hand. “Oh.” Then he spun around, his eyes wide. “Oh. Yeah, that’s not good.” He checked the eggs. “You were acting sort of weird on the first day, but I chalked it up to nerves or something. You’d been in awe of Leighton for a long time. Is that the issue? Infatuation?”
“I guess so. I don’t know. It’s all so confusing.” She laid her head in the nest of her folded arms.
“Andy, don’t put cereal in your momma’s hair.”
At Mark’s warning, she bolted upright. She didn’t have time for a second shower. “Anders Norford, you know better. Are you all done?” She made to take away his bowl, but he resisted, so she gave him another chance to finish eating. He had her so wrapped.
Mark flipped the eggs, then opened the cupboard for a plate. “Continue.”
“What I haven’t mentioned is that I think Leighton might also be interested in me. But she’s done nothing inappropriate.” The last part came blurting out.
His eyebrows shot up, plate paused mid-air. “Are you sure? About her interest, I mean?”
“We’ve had a few moments.” And what moments they’d been. She touched the back of her hand and could almost feel Leighton’s fingers there while showing her how to do her color chart.
He handed her the plate, moved the salt and pepper in front of her, and plopped into his seat. “Whoops.” He leaned back, opened the drawer, and retrieved a fork. “Here.”
She cut into her eggs. Runny in the middle and crispy around the edges, her favorite. “Thanks.” She stole back the piece of toast Andy hadn’t eaten.
Mark folded his arms across his chest. “So, you have a crush on our teacher, and she might have one on you. Only you, Case, only you. What are you going to do about it?”
She scoffed around a bite. “Nothing. Are you nuts?”
He tilted his head the way he did when he was thinking. “Maybe you should get it out in the open, be honest with her. If you think she feels something, too, she’s bound to have noticed your interest, and you said it’s not going away.”
“Are you serious? I’m not jeopardizing my spot at AV by bringing it up.” She returned to her breakfast. What a ridiculous idea.
“I don’t know. Talking about it might put it in perspective. Maybe the two of you can laugh about it and move on. What do you think, buddy? Is that a good plan?”
Andy grinned. “Buddy.”
He probably thought his name was Buddy with how often Mark called him that.
“Right. I’m going to leave my entire future up to the two-year-old.” Casey finished her last forkful. “Not happening, but thanks for listening and making me eggs.” She wiped the last bite of toast through the yolk remaining on the plate. “I’m glad I have you to talk to. It’s been hard keeping it to myself.”
He squeezed her shoulder. “No problem, Case. Don’t wait so long next time you’re crushing on a hot, older woman.”
She swatted at him, but he was too fast. She felt better though, more like herself and less like a pressure cooker. She’d assured him she would not tell Leighton what she was feeling, and her reason was sound. She wasn’t about to risk losing the opportunity to learn from her. Casey looked at Andy and smiled.
That, and the doors it could open for her, were too important.
* * *
Hours later, Casey lounged on the smaller sofa in the studio while she worked on her sketchbook assignment. She looked up to find Leighton standing before her and wasn’t able to stop her grin. “Hi.” She’d seen little of her outside of class the last few days.
Leighton gave her a warm smile. “Maxine called me from her car to tell me yet again, Andy is adorable. The way she’s still gushing over him from yesterday, be glad she didn’t take him home with her.”
Casey had now done two volunteer shifts in the gallery, both of which Maxine had stayed for and played with Andy. “Some days I wish she would. I’d give anything for a free evening to spend in a hot bath with a glass of wine.”
Leighton’s smile dimmed. “Single parenting is hard, isn’t it?”
“It is. Harder than I thought it would be. But it’s so worth it. And he sleeps through the night now, so that’s something. Otherwise, I might consider letting Maxine take him.” Casey set aside the drawing she’d been working on and stretched.
Leighton laughed as she lowered herself onto the sofa beside her. “Do you have help?”
“Mark’s great with him when he’s home. And I have someone I trust implicitly for when I’m at the art store and now here. That makes a huge difference.”
Leighton nodded. “That’s right. You and Mark are roommates.” She shifted and her hand brushed Casey’s leg, but when her fingers met skin through a large rip in Casey’s jeans, she jerked away.
Casey stared at the spot that still tingled. Her heart pounded. Whoa. Leighton had touched her, and not on the hand, but on the tender flesh of her thigh. Had it been intentional? Of course not. But she imagined if it had been and what those velvety fingertips would feel like higher. Arousal flared in her belly, between her legs. God, what was she thinking?
“I heard he enjoyed playing in the gallery. Kids love all that open space.” Leighton kept her focus on Casey’s sketchbook.
Leighton had reacted like she’d been shocked, and now grasped the offending hand with her other, like she needed to control it. And she was discussing kids like nothing unusual was going on. All Casey wanted to talk about was if Leighton was as lit up as she was right now, but she could play this game, too. She’d told Mark she had no intention of telling Leighton about her attraction, and she’d hold to it. “I think the highlight of Andy’s day yesterday was taking off his shoes and sliding around in his socks. He had more fun doing that than playing with anything I brought to keep him busy.” Casey recalled his joy and smiled. Good, focus on that, not on Leighton’s touch.
“She said he looks just like you.” Leighton studied her like she was trying to imagine the resemblance.
Had Maxine volunteered this information, or had Leighton asked? She hoped it was the latter. “Many people say that. It’s his complexion and hair, but he has his daddy’s eyes.” She didn’t want to get into a discussion about Andy’s father. Time for a change of subject. “Does your daughter like playing in the gallery? I didn’t know you were a mom until the black-market episode.”
Leighton laughed. “Yes, she loves it. She considers it her personal ballet studio. I’ve never regretted having those hardwood floors installed. Plus, Kalyssa loves hanging out with Maxine. If she makes a sale, she slips her a couple of dollars and calls it her commission. Kalyssa thinks she’s the best thing since butterfly hair clips.”
“Does she look like you?” Casey needed to picture the little girl who had inherited half of her genetics from Leighton.
“A little bit. The shape of her face and her eye color. And her hair is the same shade mine used to be when I was her age. You’ll meet her soon.” With a quick smile, she stood. “How close are you to finishing this week’s assignments?” She nodded toward the sketchbook.
“Uh,” Casey scrambled to switch gears. “All I have left is the value sphere. I’m almost done.”
“Bring it to me when you’re finished.” Leighton strode away. “I’ll be in my office.”
Casey studied her until she settled at her desk, then assessed her drawing. She completed it, despite her distracted mind, then scrawled her signature at the bottom and closed the book.
When she approached Leighton’s office, she knocked on the glass, though the door stood open. Even this much later, she still felt unhinged from that one, likely inadvertent, touch.
Leighton looked up from her laptop and gestured for the sketchbook. “Come back in ten minutes, and we’ll talk.”
Talk? About what? Casey left, wary of what to expect when she returned and hoping she’d be able to get herself together by then.