Roommates (Soulmates #1) (25 page)

Chapter 49: Jenny

I was down on my knees framing one of the New York skyline
prints when Ethan came up with more frames from the car.

"Oh good," I said. "I was hoping you got some red
ones. I think they'll look great with those."

He furrowed his brow. "The ones of you?"

"Yeah." I leaned the picture I’d just framed against
the coffee table and sat back on my heels. "You don't agree?"

"Those aren't for sale."

I pressed my palms on my thighs. "What do you mean those
aren't for sale?"

"I mean the print I did of you sitting naked for me isn't
for anyone's eyes but mine."

"Don't be silly," I said, getting to my feet.
"You can't even tell it's me, and it's such a good one."

He started sorting the frames on the kitchen counter.
"Absolutely not."

I wiped my forehead on the back of my hand. "Look, Ethan,
I'm flattered at your possessiveness, but you have to put at least one of those
in."

"No I don't."

"But I'll sit for you anytime! And you still have the lino
stamp. You can make more if you want whenever."

"I told you," he said. "They're a limited
edition."

I folded my arms.

He glanced up at me. "I'm not changing my mind on
this."

"You are," I said, walking over and laying my hand
over his so he'd stop sorting frames. "This is your shot. Your moment. You
have to stand out from the other people showcasing their work, and that print
sexes up the whole collection."

"My skylines are sexy enough."

I craned my head forward. "Look at me."

He clenched his jaw and fixed his eyes on mine.

"Trust me on this. Please."

"I don't see why I should put it up if I wouldn't sell
it."

"Cause you will sell it," I said. "For a pretty
penny, too."

He shook his head.

"Oh c’mon. Everything has a price," I said.
"Except for the memory we have of making it, and you can't showcase that
anyway."

"Too bad. That would really turn out a crowd."

I sighed. "You know I'm right."

"It's personal."

"No it's not." I ran my hand through my hair. "That's
what you don't understand because you haven't shown your work to enough people
yet. Once you see that it's personal to them, you'll understand why you don't
lose anything by sharing it."

He raised his eyebrows. “Are you done?”

I pointed at the red and yellow print of my back. "Someone
is going to look at that, and they’re not going to see me. They’re going to see
someone they love. And that little boy with the boat is going to mean something
entirely different to someone else than whatever it means to you."

"Not much."

I rolled my eyes. "You get my point, though."

"I do."

"How about you do it my way this once- just to humor me-
and I'll shut up about it after the exhibition."

He dropped his chin. "You'll shut up about it?"

I nodded.

"Well I'd be a fool not to take you up on that offer."

"Great. It's settled." I reached for one of the red
frames and tiptoed through the minefield of stacked prints to get back to the
ones of me.

A second later, there was a knock on the door.

I looked at him with wide eyes.

His expression was the same.

I shrugged and shook my head. Lord knows I wasn't expecting
anyone. No one even knew I was here.

Ethan moved for the peephole, and when he turned back to me, his
eyes were squeezed shut.

"Who is it?" I whispered.

He looked pissed for a second, but he hid his sulky expression before
he opened the door.

"Hi Vicky," he said.

My back went straight. "Mom?"

She looked at me over Ethan's shoulder as she gave him a hug,
her eyes sweeping across the room.

My stomach sank at how gutted Ethan must've felt that his prints
were everywhere.

"What's all this?" she asked, opening her arms towards
me.

I hopped back across the room and gave her a hug.

It felt nice to have her arms around me. She was a good hugger- even
though she still hugged me like I was five. I looked over her shoulder at Ethan
and mouthed the word sorry.

"It's for an art show," Ethan said.

"I see." She turned around and bent every which way,
straining to admire the framed and unframed prints. "It’s a wonderful
collection.”

I elbowed him behind her back.

"I love that one over there," she said, pointing to
the print we'd just been arguing about.

"Ethan made them," I blurted.

She turned around with a hand over her chest. "What?"

"He's an artist. Surprise."

She shook her head. "Ethan, honey, these are remarkable. I
had no idea you were still interested in art."

He shrugged.

"Speaking of surprises," I said. "What are you
doing here, Mom?”

She pulled her sunglasses off her head and started folding them.
"Ed wanted to go to a WW2 Auction in Pittsburgh with Uncle Jim."

I cocked my head. "Uh-huh."

"And I didn't want him driving all that way on his
own." She tucked her glasses in the top of her shirt.

I furrowed my brow. "So you made him drive even
further?"

She waved her hands at me. "It's only another five hours,
and I haven't seen you in months."

I pursed my lips.

"Plus, I need a new pair of boots."

I squinted at her.

"But mostly I just wanted to see you guys!" She
smiled. "You both look wonderful by the way."

"Where's my dad?" Ethan asked.

"He went to pick up some lunch." She glanced at her
watch. "He didn’t want to show up empty handed after he sent Jenny here
under false pretenses."

Ethan scoffed.

"Speaking of false pretenses, Mom-"

She raised her eyebrows.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Ethan and I have
something to tell you."

Ethan laid his hand on my shoulder. "Jenny."

I looked at him. "We have to tell her. Besides, she'll know
the best way to break the news to your dad."

He sighed.

“What’s going on?” my mom asked, shifting her weight.

I took a deep breath. "Ethan and I are dating."

Her eyes grew wide. "Dating who?"

"Each other," I said, standing as tall as I could.

She looked back and forth between us. "How long has this
been going on?"

Ethan stepped up and rested his hand on my lower back.

I felt like I wasn't even in my own body, like I'd be able to
plead insanity if she freaked out. "Since shortly after I arrived."

She leaned a hip against the counter and crossed her arms.

I thought I would faint before she broke the silence.

"I thought this might happen," she said softly.

I raised my eyebrows. "What?"

She shrugged. "I can't speak for Ethan, of course, but I
suppose you've been hiding your feelings for long enough so-"

"What?! You knew?!” I shook my head. “But-"

She scrunched her face. "I may have read your diary once or
twice."

My mouth fell open. "Once or twice?! What the hell, Mom?!"

"How else was I supposed to make sure you weren't using
drugs?"

I furrowed my brow. "I don't know! Freaking ask me maybe?!"

“Relax, Jenny. It's not like I made photocopies."

My hands went to my head. "Photocopies?! You shouldn't have
read it."

“True,” she said. "But you also shouldn't have left it
around like any old book."

"That’s no excuse! God. Has everyone had a skim through my
diary?" I spun around and looked at Ethan. "What about you? Did it
ever fall open in front of you?"

He looked down between his feet.

I smacked him in the chest.

"Once," he said, turning red. "Better than once
or twice, though, right?" he asked, glancing at my mom.

I slapped my fists down at my sides. "Unbelievable."

"Calm down," my mom said. "It wasn't exactly a
page turner."

I covered my face with my hands.

"Sorry,” she said. “I shouldn't have mentioned it."

"No," I huffed. "You shouldn't have."

She raised her palms like white flags. "What I meant to say
was, congratulations. You two have my full support."

I rolled my eyes.

"Thanks, Vicky," Ethan said, putting a hand on my
waist and squeezing me against him. "Let's hope my dad is as understanding
as you've been."

Chapter 50: Ethan

My dad was people watching like an obvious tourist when I joined
him in the beer garden.

"What the hell is that?" he asked when I set his pint
down.

"It's a pint," I said, sliding it to him across the
picnic table.

"It's a pitcher."

"This is New York."

"I realize that," he said. "But a pint is
standard measure of-"

"I know what a pint is. But this is New York. You don't
have to drink all of it if you don't want."

He sighed. "I just don’t want to overdo it. I told the
girls I'd take them to a show tonight if they didn't get heat exhaustion while
they were out shopping."

"Well, depending on the show, you might decide to skull the
whole thing."

"Mmm." He lifted it and took a sip.

"You don’t know what you’re seeing yet?"

He shook his head. "I left it up the girls." He furrowed
his brow. "Do you want to come?"

"Depends on the show, I guess." I scooted towards the
brick wall beside the table and leaned my back against it. My dad looked older
than I remembered, like time was accelerating when we were apart. I wondered if
he felt the same about me.

"So… that's a lot of art in your apartment."

I pursed my lips and nodded. "A few year’s worth."

"You never really stopped?"

I shook my head.

"Why did you keep it a secret?"

I turned an ear towards him. "You're joking, right?"

"Joking?"

"Oh right. You don't do jokes."

“Enlighten me.”

I sighed. "After Mom died, there was no one around who
wanted to see my stuff anymore. And you grew to detest it. Like it reminded you
of her or something."

He took a sip of his beer and smacked his lips. "I'm sorry,
Ethan."

I flipped my sunglasses down over my eyes.

"I know it's too little too late, but I didn't exactly put
your grieving before my own."

I shrugged. "You did your best."

"I shouldn't have sent you away, though," he said.
"I should've stuck up for you at the school and-"

"That wasn’t your fault. Really. And it was the right call."

His lips formed a straight line.

"I'm not going to thank you for it or anything cause it
sucked, but I was never going to get out of that town the way I was
going."

"Well, it does seem like you've made something of
yourself."

"I'm a work in progress."

"For what it's worth, I'm glad you kept up with the art…
even though I'm too thick to get it."

"Apology accepted." I took a sip of my beer.

He did the same.

I wished it could be more natural with him and me.

Ben had drinks with his dad several times a month. They played
tennis together and everything. But my dad and I were so forced, as if we were
always trying not to reveal too much.

I didn't know if it was that my mom was the only thing we ever
really had in common or if it was normal for men to have complicated
relationships with their fathers. Regardless, there was a reason I didn't take
him for a fucking coffee.

"Get anything good at the auction?" I asked.

"I outbid your Uncle Jim for a Zippo that belonged to some
general."

"Cause you wanted it or because you can't resist a little
competition."

"Both," he said. "But I'll probably give it to
him for his birthday."

"That's nice."

"I'm keeping the bosun whistle I got for myself, though.
I'm going to get it cleaned up and put it on display in the front room."

"Don't get it too cleaned up. Those things can lose their
value if-"

"Thanks, Ethan, but I'm not an idiot," he said.
"And you can stop pretending you give a shit about my collection."

"I figured it was the least I could do after you pretended
to care about my art stuff."

"I do care about your art stuff," he said. "I
just don't know how to show it."

"Don't feel you have to."

“I wish I could,” he said. “But caring about our family takes so
much of my energy that there's not much left for me to spend getting excited
about paint brushes."

"Don't worry about it."

"What else is new?" he asked. "How are things
going with work?"

"Good. I like my job. It pays well. I hang out with
attractive people all day who treat me like I’m their favorite person."

He nodded. "Whatever floats your boat."

I bit the inside of my cheek.

"What about Jenny?"

I pushed my sunglasses back on my head. "What do you
mean?"

"I mean I want to know why all three of you were thick as
thieves when I showed up at your apartment."

I swallowed.

"Christ. I'm highly trained in interrogation, Ethan. You
think I can't tell when someone's trying to avoid telling me something?"

"Promise you won't freak out."

"I haven't freaked out since ‘98."

I raised my eyebrows. "More like ninety eight seconds
ago."

"Whatever. I won't raise my voice anyway. It's bad for my
blood pressure."

"Jenny and I are dating."

"Dating who?"

"Each other."

He raised his aviators and squinted at me. "What do you
mean you're dating?"

"I mean we're living together as boyfriend and
girlfriend."

He turned his ear towards me. "Does she sleep in your
bed?"

I let my head fall back against the bricks.

"Wow. That is news," he said, wrapping his shovel
hands around his glass. "No wonder you guys were all atwitter."

"Whatever that means," I mumbled.

"And things are going well?"

"I've never been happier."

He nodded and took a sip of his beer. "How'd Vicky take
it?"

"Surprisingly well."

"Mmm. She warned me this might happen."

"What?"

"Not in so many words, but Jesus. Women's intuition, eh?
It's arguably more powerful than my best interrogation tactics."

I squinted at him. "What do you mean she warned you?"

"That was a poor choice of words. It would be more accurate
to say she suspected there was something going between you two."

I craned my neck forward. "Go on."

"After you shipped off, Jenny was depressed for
weeks."

"Depressed?"

"Just not herself, you know. No singing in the shower. No
back talk. That kind of thing."

"Yeah."

“Very strange for a girl that age.”

“Uh-huh.”

"I thought she might be on drugs or something. Downers.
Maybe a bit of skunk here and there. Wouldn't have surprised me for all that
time she spent with what's her face with the raccoon eyes."

"Brandi."

"Yeah."

"Anyway, Vicky said Jenny wasn’t on drugs. She was just
heartbroken."

I furrowed my brow. "Seriously?"

"I chocked it up to hormones and didn't try to understand.
You were only kids."

I took a sip of beer.

"Was it the same for you?" he asked. "Even
then?"

I nodded. "Yeah. It was. And when you guys got married
everything got so confused."

"Understandable."

I scratched the back of my head.

He sighed. "I'm not one of those guys that takes young love
seriously, but there must be something there if it hasn't gone away after all
this time."

"We think so."

He furrowed his brow. "You love her?"

I nodded.

"Does she know?"

"More or less."

He raised a finger at me. "Make sure she knows," he
said. "I swear to god the only peace I had after your mother died was that
I told her I loved her that morning."

A lump formed in my throat.

"So don't miss an opportunity to show her how much you
care. Never put it off. Never skip a day. Take it from me, life is too short to
assume the people you love know it."

I swallowed.

"And I'm sorry if you felt you had to put your love on hold
cause of decisions I made- not that I wouldn't make the same decisions again because
I love Vicky very much-"

"I know."

"Anyway, it's not for me to judge what's best when it comes
to matters of the heart. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but if there’s
anything I’ve learned, it’s that you don't apologize for love and you don't
hide it away."

"Thanks, Dad."

"And I'll stop myself there before you lose all respect for
me."

I smiled.

Then he stood up and pointed at my glass. "Same
again?"