Sculpting Grace: A Light Romance Novel (Art of Grace Book 2) (17 page)

I leaned back a little at the vehemence behind these words. It sounded like these statues had at least a partial hand in the downfall of Richard and Dean's relationship.

"They caused trouble before?" I asked, hoping that he wouldn't blow up at me.

For a moment, he looked like he might - his lips tightened, and his eyes grew cold behind those horn-rimmed glasses. But instead, he let out a long, slow breath and just nodded.

"They always seemed to be at the center of our fights," he said, the words soft and sad. "I didn't have a problem with them, at least not at first. But when I'd roll over every night to find the bed empty beside me, and I'd just hear the sound of him hammering away with a chisel, refusing to come spend time with me because he had his art..."

Richard paused for a moment to reach up and rub his eyes, pushing his glasses up on his forehead. "Any idea what it's like?" he asked me. "To try and deal with someone who just keeps on pushing you away?"

A little twinge of self-consciousness shot through me as I thought about how I'd been avoiding talking with Carter about our own relationship. "I kind of know, yes," I admitted, wishing that he hadn't brought it up.

After another minute, Richard took a deep breath and stood up, turning towards the whistling kettle on the stove. "So, yes, that's Dean and me, summed up in a few sentences," he said, trying to keep his voice brisk and leave the pain behind. "As to why he'd send you over here, I really don't have the slightest clue, I'm afraid. I made sure to take all of my things, and none of his, when I moved out. Anyway, would you like some tea?"

"No, that's all right," I said to the tea, as I puzzled over the mystery of why de St. James wanted me here. Clearly, my arrival had stirred up negative feelings in Richard, given how the man was struggling to keep himself together. And if de St. James' disorganized house and constantly angry personality were any indication, he wasn't over the break-up either-

Wait, was that it? I sat up a little straighter on the couch. Did de St. James secretly send me here because, in his heart, he wanted me to try and do something about this failed relationship?

But how could I even try and do anything to reconnect these two? Richard looked dejected, but he didn't seem broken, not like how de St. James came off. And somehow, I doubted that he'd be ready to take back a dirty, unshaven, wild-haired and smelly de St. James, along with a filthy house.

I needed to think about this, try and come up with a plan. As Richard took the kettle off of the stove, I stood up from the couch, coughing politely to capture his attention.

"Listen, thank you for taking the time to talk to me," I said, "but I'm afraid that I have to get going."

"Without figuring out what Dean wanted from me?" Richard asked, grabbing a mug from one of his cupboards. "Not that I'm likely to go along with whatever it is that man wants from me now, but I do have to confess that I'm at least a bit curious, especially after not hearing from him in so long."

"He hasn't talked to you at all?" I asked.

Richard shook his head. "Not a word. It's probably because he's forgotten all about me, but I like to hold out a little hope that he's just too heartbroken to even reach out." He sniffed. "Although given as how I just saw him pop up on Facebook recently, I suspect that he's had much less trouble moving on than I did."

I felt a little twinge of guilt. "Actually, that was me," I confessed.

"What was you?"

"Facebook. One of his tasks for me was to get him set up on all of the different social media sites. I figured it was just so that he could advertise his work." I coughed, wondering if I should reveal my other insight to Richard, but decided that he had the right to know. "He's not exactly together at the moment, so I didn't even figure on there being... anyone else who might be involved."

Richard smiled a little. "Well, that's good to hear, at least. Are you sure I can't tempt you with some tea? Might help that cough of yours."

"No - but I'll be in touch, I promise." I moved across the man's elegant apartment and grabbed the door handle - but then paused. "Actually, could I get your phone number?"

Still looking a little wistful at the memories I'd dragged up, Richard gave it to me. "Thanks. Really, I'm going to figure out how to make this better," I promised him. "Just give me a little time, okay?"

I just needed to figure out the right way to approach this, I told myself as I climbed back down the three flights of stairs. I still wasn't completely sure on how I'd accomplish this third task, but I at least had a slightly better idea of what I was up against.

Chapter Twenty

*

"So, can you believe it? He's like that because he's heartbroken!"

I sat back and, proud of my discovery, rewarded myself with a big bite of my sandwich. As I chewed, however, I noticed that Carter, sitting across from me, didn't look totally convinced.

"And now he's tasked you with fixing this?" he asked skeptically. "That really seems like a lot to demand, just to get permission to sell his art. Maybe at some point it might be time to give up on chasing after de St. James at all."

It was hard to pout with a mouthful of sandwich, but I gave it my best shot. "Come on, Carter, don't you feel a bit bad for him?" I asked, once I'd managed to swallow. "I thought that he was always mean, but I didn't understand why he seemed together and composed in previous interviews, but now he's so crazy."

"But that's precisely the problem," Carter jumped in. I noticed idly that he had barely touched his own sandwich from the deli counter, and wondered if I could manage to sneak some of it away from him. "The two of them, Richard and Dean, didn't work out. That was when they were really trying. Now, de St. James is just a shell of his former self, dirty and disheveled. How could Richard possibly want him back?"

"Love," I said, with a lot more conviction than I actually felt. "Because Richard still loves him. And love trumps all."

Carter, however, still kept on shaking his head. "I wish it worked out that easily."

I sighed. Even another bite of my sandwich didn't make me feel much better. After leaving Richard's apartment, I decided that I needed both a nice bite of delicious food, and someone else, for me to work through this new development in de St. James' life. I'd hesitated for a second before calling Carter and asking if he wanted to get lunch with me at the local delicatessen right near my work, but I thought that maybe I could handle the bit of conflict between us that I'd felt the other night at the same time.

"Well, I'm going to come up with something to try," I insisted. "Maybe it won't work, in which case I could come back to just walking away and giving up. But I still feel bad for de St. James, and for Richard, too, and I want to try and help them."

For a moment, I saw Carter squeeze his lips together, like he was biting back a comment. He didn't say anything aloud, however, and a moment later gave me a nod. "Okay. So what are you going to try?"

"Well, that's where I'm stuck. How do I take these two people, who are clearly still attracted to each other but both too stubborn to do anything about it, and bring them together?"

This time, for the briefest of seconds, I thought that I saw him smile before the expression vanished. "That's a tough one. I mean, you could always keep on pushing them together, hoping that, if they go on enough dates, they might realize that they belong in a relationship together?"

Was he talking about us, or about Richard and de St. James? "Sure, but I'm not sure that's enough," I answered cautiously.

He nodded. "Indeed, it seems a bit slow. You said that de St. James was too invested in his work, and eventually Richard just couldn't stand it any longer and walked away? He was tired of coming second to his partner's focus on work?"

Again, this sounded suspiciously like Carter was talking about the two of us, not about Richard and de St. James, but I nodded. "So I guess maybe de St. James needs to make an apology of some sort?"

"It will need to be a big one, something really heartfelt, maybe even with a gesture involved." Okay, now Carter was definitely talking about our relationship. "It will probably take a bit of humility from de St. James, that's clear."

Abruptly, I pushed my chair back. I didn't even realize what I was doing until I was already on my feet, looking down at the remains of my food on the table, at Carter still sitting across from me.

He started, clearly caught off guard by my sudden eruption up to my feet. "What are you doing?"

"Leaving," I replied, suddenly feeling tears welling up at the corners of my eyes. I really didn't want to have a breakdown here, in public, but I needed to get out. "Can you pay for lunch? I'll get the next one."

"Sure, yeah, no problem," he answered immediately, getting up to his feet as well as he tossed a couple bills from his wallet onto the table. He followed after me as I went out of the cafe, out into the bright sunlight. "Hey, what's wrong? Did I say something out of place?"

A part of me wanted to just walk away, but I knew that he deserved an answer. I turned back to him, opening my mouth even though I wasn't sure quite what would come out.

"Look, just stop pushing me, okay?" I burst out.

He looked bewildered. "Pushing you to do what?"

"To- to-" I gestured at him, trying to find the right words. "To get me to jump in headfirst with you! I know that you want us to move forward, but I'm just not ready, and I can't deal with it right now! And if you don't understand that-"

I cut off, not knowing what might follow this foreboding announcement, and scared of what might emerge. Carter, too, looked a bit unnerved, and he took a half-step back before he caught himself.

"Listen, Becca, why don't we go someplace else and just talk about this," he offered, his voice annoyingly reasonable. I had the sudden image of myself standing on the edge of a tall building while he tried to talk me down.

I just shook my head back at him. I wasn't sure why I was being so stubborn, but I also knew that, at least right now, I didn't want to talk. Talking wouldn't get us anywhere. I somehow needed to get my mind straight - and however long that took, it wasn't going to start until I could be alone with my own thoughts, without Carter nearby and influencing me, distracting me with his charm and easy laugh and caring manner.

"I need some distance right now, that's all," I finally managed to get out, taking another step back and away from him on the sidewalk.

I hoped that Carter might just let me go, but I saw his expression darken. "Good, yes. Distance. That actually sounds surprisingly attractive to me, too," he said, frowning. "Tell you what. Why don't we just not talk until you've worked through whatever all of this is, huh?"

"Sounds good to me," I answered, now knowing that I wouldn't be able to hold back the tears after this. Were the two of us breaking up? Is that what this fight is?

Carter stood there on the sidewalk for a second longer, working his jaw back and forth as if chewing on a piece of tough steak. He glared at me, and then, abruptly, spun around and stalked away. The sun still shone down brightly on us, but I felt as though a thunderstorm ought to spring up above us right now, just to set the right mood.

I watched him walk away, and even though I'd never admit it out loud, a little part of me hoped that he might turn and look back at me. Maybe he'd be regretful, maybe he'd come rushing back, sweep me up in his arms and tell me that he'd wait as long as I needed, as long as we'd stay together-

He never looked back.

Even after he'd vanished around the corner, I still stood there for another minute. People bustled past me on the fairly busy sidewalk - professional folks, young people, headed off to class or back to work after their lunch breaks, smiling and chatting on cell phones and acting like everything was right with the world.

Maybe it was, at least for them. Maybe they didn't have any sort of screw-ups in their lives, weren't filled with stress because they couldn't commit, because they weren't able to take that leap. They probably had absolutely no problems jumping in and out of relationships without a second thought.

A little part of me knew that this dark line of thinking wasn't true, but I envied them all nonetheless.

What now? Most of me wanted to get out of here, go back home, ignore all of my duties, and just spend the rest of the afternoon eating ice cream, preferably something with brownie bites in it and half a bottle of chocolate sauce drizzled on top. I knew, however, that this course of action wouldn't end up making me feel any better, and I'd probably just add a stomachache to my list of current ailments.

Instead, I decided, I needed to double down on this whole de St. James thing. If I could focus on this, I'd lose myself in the work, and hopefully not think about Carter and my own problems for a while. I'd seen de St. James and his list of problems as an issue to be conquered, but now I welcomed it as a distraction.

I went back to my truck, drove straight to de St. James' house, and parked. By this point, I was starting to feel almost like this house was becoming my own; and it still looked nice on the outside, even though I knew the muck and filth hidden beneath the surface.