Casey arrived early again. She enjoyed being one of the first people in the studio, and it was easier to keep a schedule when juggling school, childcare, and work. When she saw Leighton’s dark office, she remembered how livid she’d been yesterday when Leighton had interrupted class. Mikala hadn’t deserved to be admonished when the actual issue didn’t involve her. Leighton’s response had been uncalled for, but at least she’d apologized.
Her own impulsive words in Leighton’s office had also been unnecessary. It’d felt like an out-of-body experience, like Casey had watched from a distance. A part of her had liked it. She’d enjoyed seeing Leighton’s reactions, like the flush of her chest, her quick breaths, and her white nail beds as she pressed her fingers into the chair’s armrests. Never had she imagined she could elicit responses like that from a woman like Leighton.
Regardless, whom Casey kissed was her business, whether or not it was a kiss she wanted. What annoyed her most was how often she’d imagined the moment as Leighton and not Mikala kissing her. She’d fantasized how the evening would end much differently than two women boarding trains to separate destinations.
The coffee had almost finished brewing when Leighton arrived. She also seemed to rise early. They hadn’t spoken after Leighton had banished her the day prior.
Leighton didn’t head to her office to deposit her bag like she did each morning. On second glance, she wasn’t carrying anything, not even a jacket for the chilly air.
Casey offered a meek good morning as Leighton made a beeline for her. Is this what warships saw when an enemy missile rocketed toward them?
Leighton didn’t return her greeting. She took the mug from her and set it down.
“Let’s go.” Her commanding tone left little room for objection.
Yet Casey remained rooted to the spot. She’d just arrived. “Now? Where?”
Leighton’s stony face held no answer. “You want to mock my cameras? Fine, I’ll show you why I have them.” Without waiting for her, she walked to the elevator and pushed the button. It should’ve opened, but someone must have called it downstairs. Leighton turned to her. “Coming?”
Casey took a few steps. Where was Leighton taking her? She didn’t have her jacket, but she wasn’t willing to risk asking to get it.
The doors opened to reveal Stefan eating a bagel.
He gave a start, likely surprised to see two people waiting for the elevator at such an early hour. “Whoa. Hi, are you leaving?” His diving eyebrows topped the confused look on his face.
“We’ll be back soon.” Leighton held the doors open for her. “Casey made coffee.”
“Okay, thanks.” He glanced between them.
Casey entered the elevator and tried to send him a telepathic message to call the authorities if she didn’t return soon. Maybe she shouldn’t have pushed Leighton’s buttons yesterday, as fun as it’d been. Goose bumps broke out on her arms.
As the doors closed, Leighton pressed a series of buttons. She didn’t look at her.
The third floor? Was Leighton taking her to the storage room to give her a tongue-lashing away from curious eyes and ears? She caught the unique scent of Leighton’s perfume, and it reminded her of her first day. The disparity of the two situations saddened her.
The doors slid open, and so did Casey’s mouth. It wasn’t a storage room.
A beautiful loft greeted her. While it maintained the same airiness of the atelier, it’d been outfitted with plush carpeting, hardwood floors, and handsome yet comfortable-looking furniture. The early morning sunshine streamed through tall windows.
Leighton extended her hand and motioned for her to enter.
The faint smell of toast hung in the air. In the corner of an armchair, a doll sat with a blanket tucked around his legs. An island that doubled as a counter with seating for four sat opposite a well-equipped kitchen. The only exception to the clean and straightforward space was the refrigerator, whose front held bright crayon drawings.
A hallway ran the length of the back half of the building, with doors branching off on either side. At the end, a desk held a large screen. The unmistakable gray-scale images of security feeds filled it.
“I have the cameras because my ex-husband isn’t a nice man.” Leighton made clumsy motions with her hands, uncharacteristic of her usual poised state. “I have a restraining order, but Kalyssa and I live here, and I can’t take any chances.”
Casey looked around for a shovel. She’d use anything she could to dig a hole large enough to crawl into. Wooden spoons standing upright in a container near the stove looked to be her only option. To say an apology was in order was an understatement.
“Leighton.” Casey shook her head and took Leighton’s hand. Her skin was as soft as she remembered. “I’m so sorry.”
Leighton answered with a gentle squeeze.
“You live here.” Casey assimilated the information. Things made sense now, like when Leighton would show up looking fresh out of a shower. Or how she’d choose to take the stairs instead of the elevator with everyone else.
Leighton smiled, but fatigue darkened her fine features, like the weight of the burdens she’d been carrying had become visible. She still looked breathtaking.
“I’m sorry for what I said.” Casey wished she could take back her awful comment about Leighton being a voyeur.
More than anything, she wanted to understand what Leighton had been through. What had Leighton endured that merited this kind of security? At the moment, no words sufficed. No bland statements or platitudes would do, and she wasn’t sure her invasive questions would be welcome. She contented herself with caressing Leighton’s hand with her thumb.
“Now you know why.” Leighton shrugged a shoulder.
Casey’s irritation melted, and she turned to face her. “You know, when she kissed me, I was more surprised than you.”
Leighton looked down, like the memory still bothered her. “Doubtful.” She pulled her hand back, but Casey held tight.
“I told her I didn’t feel the same way about her.”
Leighton’s eyes widened as she seemed to catch the slight emphasis Casey had put on the last word.
“I didn’t want her to kiss me.” Casey stepped closer to confide the last part. “Not her.” She tucked a lock of hair behind Leighton’s ear and traced the line of her elegant jaw. Maybe she’d sketch it later. Casey touched the tiny lines at the corners of Leighton’s eyes and heard her shallow breaths. Her own breathing wasn’t audible. Leighton left her breathless. She leaned in.
“No.” Leighton blinked rapidly.
If Leighton needed reassurance, she’d provide. Casey cupped her face as their breaths mingled. “No, not her.”
Leighton stepped away, dropping her hand. “No. We can’t. I can’t.” The last word sounded choked.
Casey stepped back and studied her. Was she shaking? “We’re making it more complicated than it needs to be. You’re interested in me, and I’m clearly interested in you.” She raised her hands, palms up.
Something flared in Leighton’s eyes. “It’s complicated, more than you seem to understand. Or do you have a plan to allay my funders’ fears when they hear I’m seducing my students? Shall I send them to you when everything goes to hell? While you’re at it, you can calm Maxine when people call me a predatory lesbian. If she found out…” She didn’t finish her sentence, like the thought frightened her.
When Leighton phrased things like that, she had a point, although it was one student, and if anyone was tempting someone, it was Casey. Plus, Leighton was bisexual. However, now didn’t seem like the time to delve into details.
“You’re not seducing me.” Casey was certain of this. It’d been her pushing things, and she’d never once not been in control of her choices or felt pressured by Leighton. “I’d tell them you didn’t.”
Leighton shook her head. “It wouldn’t matter because that’s not how it’d look. There’s little tolerance for this kind of thing in the post-2017 world we live in.”
Casey refused to be dejected. There had to be a way for them to explore what existed between them. Couldn’t it be their secret? Well, she couldn’t keep it from Mark. But if she and Leighton dated, they wouldn’t need to announce it on a billboard in Times Square. This wasn’t a normal school, and they were adults.
Casey wasn’t used to taking no for an answer when striving for things she wanted. She didn’t understand why they couldn’t figure something out. Sure, she could suggest they wait to date until she graduated, but so much could happen in two years. Leighton could meet someone else between now and then. Or she could simply lose interest. And Casey’s experiences had proven things did not remain unchanged. Waiting terrified her.
Nearby, the bells of the Iglesia Ni Cristo church chimed the hour, the ringing foreboding rather than uplifting.
“You have class soon.” Leighton’s tone dripped with civility.
“Yes, with you.” What a way to start the day. Casey wasn’t ready. For one thing, she wanted to stay in this beautiful loft and soak in the ambiance of Leighton’s sanctuary. She wanted to learn more about her marriage and divorce. She wanted that kiss she’d come so close to getting. Her desire had pushed its way to the forefront and wouldn’t be helpful as she tried to pay attention to the lecture. The morning would be tricky as class time forced them to share the same space.
Casey was going to need a minute to collect her thoughts. “I’ll take the stairs.”
* * *
Casey had poured a cup of coffee and eaten half an apple fritter from the pastries Jaiden had brought by the time Leighton entered the studio. Perhaps she’d also needed a moment to regain her composure.
Stefan shot Leighton a questioning look, but she ignored him.
As expected, Leighton continued her lesson on the Flemish Method, and Casey was on the third of the seven steps: the second umber underpainting. She squeezed a dime-sized amount of paint onto her palette, as Leighton addressed them.
“Today we’ll be creating the major value contrasts, darkening the darks, and unifying our compositions. Gather around my easel, and I’ll demonstrate.” She hadn’t chatted or made small talk before class, as was her normal style.
Casey didn’t push the issue, even when Leighton stopped by her station to check her progress. She finished right before lunch and propped the canvas with the painted side toward the wall so dust wouldn’t adhere to it. Mark offered to take her out for warm pretzels before he headed to work, but she declined. Instead, she ate the tuna sandwich she’d brought and flipped through a book in the library. After lunch, with most of the other students tending to different areas of their lives, only Casey and Mikala worked in the studio with their instructors. It seemed a good time to start the Bargue plate she’d chosen, Leg of Germanicus.
She’d sharpened her graphite pencil to a two-inch long point, the exact specifications Leighton had shown her, and it lay ready. With one eye closed, she held a long piece of black twine tied to a hexagonal nut at arm’s length and used the makeshift plumb line to divide her reference image in half.
“What’s that?”
Casey turned. The small voice belonged to a little girl with straight blond hair.
Before Casey could respond, Leighton spoke from her doorway.
“Kalyssa, don’t bother her.”
“I’m not.”
“She’s not.” They answered in unison, which earned Casey a lopsided grin from Kalyssa.
Ah, Kalyssa. Casey took in more detail. She could see Leighton in her features—her high cheek bones and almond-shaped brown eyes—and her periwinkle PAW Patrol T-shirt perfectly matched her Skechers.
Leighton crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe.
“Is that a ring?” Kalyssa pointed to the end of the string, clearly undaunted by her mother’s interruption.
Casey showed her. “It’s called a nut.”
She giggled and shook her head, making her hair sway. “You can’t eat that.”
“No, you can’t.” Casey smiled at her. Leighton watched them with evident interest, making Casey’s skin warm and her fingertips tingle.
“What’s your name?” Kalyssa fiddled with the nut.
“Casey.”
Kalyssa stared at her, wonderment in her expression. “That’s my name, too!”
“Really?” Casey squatted to her level. “I thought your name was Kalyssa.”
Her head bobbed. “It is. Kalyssa Catherine Vaughn.” She pointed toward the lounge. “But Uncle Stefan calls me K.C.” She wrote the letters in the air with her index finger.
“Ah, I see.”
Kalyssa touched the pencils on Casey’s taboret at her eye level. She seemed careful, so Casey didn’t discourage her.
“Momma and I have matching last names. The atelier matches my name, too.” Atelier came out more like AT-a-lay. “I’m the only one at preschool with their mom’s name and not their dad’s.” Kalyssa squeezed her hands into little fists and jumped.
Casey looked at Leighton and smiled.
Leighton sort of shrugged, but amusement shone in her eyes. “Let me know when you’ve had enough.”
Casey chuckled. “We’re fine.”
Kalyssa picked up the nut Casey had laid on her easel. “Why did you tie this on a string?”
The questions kept coming. “The nut is heavy, so it straightens the string.” Casey held it up. “See? I can check if the lines on my drawing match.” She stood and showed Kalyssa how to use it.
“It makes you draw it straight?” A dimple appeared between her eyebrows.
“Well, I have to draw them the best I can, but this helps me check.” Kalyssa’s interest charmed her. Would Andy be so chatty in two years? “Would you like me to make you one?”
Her eyes lit up. “Yes, please.”
Casey opened a drawer and dug around for another nut. At the supply closet, she cut a shorter length of string. Her little shadow followed. Casey tied a knot, snipped the excess, and made a loop on the other end. “Here you go.”
Kalyssa grinned.
“Do you remember how to use it?” Casey put her hand on the column beside her. “Can you check this for me?”
Kalyssa held the string high in front of her with one eye closed and her nose scrunched. “It’s straight.” She confirmed it with a serious nod, like Casey had asked her to determine the building’s structural integrity.
“Good.”
Kalyssa held the plumb line between her and Leighton, who still leaned against the door’s frame.
“Momma, you’re not straight!”
A loud guffaw emanated from Stefan, who’d been reading a book on the large sofa.
Casey bit her lip and looked at Leighton. A bloom of rose spread across Leighton’s cheeks. She didn’t seem to find as much humor in Kalyssa’s quip as Stefan had. Casey averted her eyes.
“Uncle Stefan, stand up so I can check you.” Kalyssa skipped toward the lounge area.
From her easel beside Casey, Mikala snorted.
“I already know the answer, K.C. I’m definitely not straight.” He grinned and blew her a kiss before going back to his book with a chuckle.
Leighton shepherded Kalyssa, whose attention was now on trying to shove her little finger through the nut, toward her office. “What do you say to Casey?”
“Thank you.”
Casey didn’t mind the automatic response. Kalyssa seemed sweet and curious, and Casey liked her.
“You’re welcome.”
Casey glanced at Leighton. She didn’t know whether to credit Leighton’s beaming smile and expressive creases at the corners of her eyes to being with her daughter or witnessing them together, but it almost made her forget the tension between them.
Leighton turned Kalyssa toward her office. She mouthed thank you and squeezed Casey’s forearm.
Her gratitude and warm touch left Casey, once again, wanting more.