Jake Lapinski watched his sister unwrap the painting he’d made for her new apartment, his stomach tensing. Even after a decade as a professional artist, he got edgy when a crowd gathered to look at his work.
Not that the two dozen or so people in the small living room in Oakland, California were gathering for that reason; his sister, Jody, had just shacked up with her boyfriend. It was an open secret they were already engaged, and all their friends and family had gathered to wish them well.
“You didn’t have to get us anything,” Jody said, smiling at him.
“Of course I did.” Jake hoped she didn’t hate the painting. Her opinion meant a lot to him—although not quite as much as the opinion of the woman standing by the window. If Sasha Selkirk didn’t like the painting, he’d probably take it home, gesso over it, and try again. Sasha was her sister’s oldest and closest friend, almost part of the family. She didn’t talk a lot, but when she did, it was ten times more insightful than what anyone else might say.
“Be careful,” Jake said, reaching over to help his sister tear away the paper. He’d put the small painting inside an Amazon box. “It’s not actually dry yet.”
Jody lifted the flaps of the box and peeked inside. “Oh, Jake. Is it rosemary? I love it!”
He glanced at Sasha, relieved to see her smiling as she peered over Jody’s shoulder. When he wasn’t creating pet portraits for clients, he’d been painting garden herbs all year, usually in miniature. Couldn’t seem to help himself.
“I told him it seemed small for a housewarming gift,” Marjorie, his girlfriend, said. Jake didn’t mind if Marjorie didn’t appreciate his work. She couldn’t tell the difference between Van Gogh and Vin Diesel. Although a great optometrist, she had no eye.
Not like Sasha.
“It’s not too small,” Sasha said. “It suits the subject matter.”
“Thanks, Sash,” he said, saluting her with his beer bottle.
She gave him one of her enigmatic smiles and looked down.
What is she thinking about? he wondered for the millionth time. He ran his hand through his longish hair, emptied his beer, and set the bottle on the table next to the other housewarming gifts.
His girlfriend picked it up and wiped away the water ring with a scrap of discarded wrapping paper. “I’ll recycle it,” she said, patting him on the head as she walked to the kitchen.
The gesture annoyed him. They’d been dating for two months, and he was starting to worry that it wasn’t going to last. He was over thirty. He was ready to last. Ready for a relationship to last. But Marjorie didn’t seem to like him enough. He wasn’t picky, but that struck him as important, even key.
“Jake?”
Marjorie was calling from the kitchen. Seeing that his sister and Simon, the shack-ee, had moved on to opening the next gift, he stood up and joined his date near the refrigerator, which was in the farthest corner from the living room, just out of eyesight of the party.
“Want me to pour you another glass of wine?” He reached for the fridge. Marjorie seemed to like him best when he was serving her something. That was another warning sign, but he wasn’t in any hurry to admit it.
“I’m leaving,” she said. Only then did he notice she was wearing her jacket.
Apparently she was the one in a hurry.
“OK,” he said.
“That’s all you have to say?”
“I guess it wasn’t working out,” he said.
Her brow creased. “I was tired.” Her voice turned sharp and pointy. Kind of like her shoes. “I wanted to go home and crash. That’s all I meant.”
“Oh.” He felt his face get hot. “Right. Totally. I’ll—well, I can’t drive you home yet because I just had a beer on an empty stomach and I’m kind of buzzed—”
“You thought I was breaking up with you?”
He licked his lips and studied the shape of her head, just a few inches away from her eyes. Nice head. He’d drawn her a few times, but knew she wouldn’t appreciate his technique. He tended to make people look like animals. “Yes,” he said finally.
“And all you were going to say was ‘OK’?”
He sighed. Might as well go with it. “I’m sorry.”
“I can’t believe you.”
“I know,” he said, sighing again. “That’s part of the problem.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Save us both some time, I guess.”
“I am sorry.” After a moment, he realized he really was. He should’ve handled that better. “Look, I only had one drink, I’m cool to drive. Let me get my coat and I can at least see you h—”
“No.” She turned and opened the front door. “I drove us here, anyway.”
“I know, but I could—”
The door slammed between them.
“Drive you home and get completely stranded,” he finished under his breath. Lame. He’d forgotten that he’d just moved up into his grandmother’s house in the Oakland Hills. Not easy to get to without a car.
He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing another failed relationship didn’t sting so badly, that he could cover his love life with gesso like a canvas and simply start over.
When he moved to return to the living room, he found Sasha standing only a few feet away, watching him with her dark, beautiful eyes.