Almost in Love (22 page)

“Aww,” Steph said.

“Hear, hear,” Zac said.

“To show business!” Delilah said.

“To pirates!” Bare said.

“Let the good times roll!” the Major-General put in, still wearing his pith helmet. What was that guy’s name again? They’d been calling him Major-General from day one.

They all laughed and drank. Someone put on some music in the family room. The women started dancing, then Zac and Kevin joined in, and then everyone was dancing. Amber had a brief flashback to Bare’s Irish jig the last time they’d danced together. Seeming to know where her thoughts were at, he grinned, and instead did a swashbuckling pirate dance, joining in with the other pirates, who swung arm in arm like they did on their dance number on stage. Steph dragged her into a kick line with the Major-General’s daughters. She did a few low kicks, mindful of her lack of underthings.

After several more dances and one too many cups of wine, Amber excused herself, found the downstairs bathroom locked, and headed upstairs in search of another bathroom. As she walked the upstairs hallway, her eye caught on a splash of dark green, red, and lavender on the wall in one of the bedrooms. She stopped. That was strange. It was a dragon. She got closer. It was her dragon. The painting she’d sold on eArt. She stepped into the room and just stared. They were all here. All of her paintings lined up against one wall, stacked up against each other.

Her head spun. Wait. No. Her collector, the woman who bought all her art, was Bare’s mom? She thought back to how sales had tapered off when the play rehearsals started, turned on her heel, and raced to Bare. She found him dancing with some of the pirates and the Major-General’s daughters.

“How could you?” she hollered over the music.

People nearby stopped dancing to stare.

Bare pulled her out of the room and into a quiet corner of the kitchen. “What’s the matter?”

“What’s the matter? What’s the matter! You bought all my paintings and let me think it was a collector!” Her head hurt. She lowered her voice. “You bought them as your mother, and you never told me. You probably didn’t even like them. You just stored them in a room upstairs. I can’t believe I fell for it.” Tears stung her eyes, and she dashed them away with the back of her hand.

“I do like them,” he said. “That’s why I bought them.”

She swallowed over the lump in her throat. “But you just let me think I was some big success when you were just trying to make me feel better about my little hobby. I thought…” Her voice broke.

He wrapped his arms around her, and she shoved him away, suddenly furious. She’d thrown herself into painting, trying to keep up with her mysterious collector, actually thinking she might have a chance at making a living at her art. And the way she’d confided to Bare about all her great sales. The way he just went along with it.

He reached for her hand, and she shook him off.

“You thought what?” he asked.

“I thought I was a success. I thought I had a future in art. But you were just playing me. How could you? You of all people. I thought I could trust you.”

“You can,” he said urgently. “You know you can. I love your art, so I bought it. That’s all.”

“But you didn’t buy it as yourself. You bought it as Susan Dancy. What the hell, Bare?”

The tears came now, rushing down her cheeks, and she took off out the back door.

“Amber, wait!”

She kept going.

He caught up with her in the backyard. She stopped and took a few deep breaths. It was dark outside, and she was heading the wrong way for an exit. Besides, he was her ride.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I planned on telling you, but then we were both so busy and things were going so well between us.”

“You were afraid I would stop sleeping with you.” She wanted to hurt him the way she was hurting. “You and your conditioned response. You ever think it wasn’t you, but more of a Pavlovian thing, hmm?”

He cradled her face with one hand. “Amber…”

That voice, that growly voice that meant huge emotion. It got to her every time. She covered her ears. “Just take me home!”

They walked out to the street, where he’d parked his car. He’d removed The Dancing Cow magnets from the sides, and it looked like a normal car, except for the loudspeaker on top. She wanted to grab that loudspeaker and rip it off. She felt like a wretched fraud, and he was the worst—letting her believe in her art, completely ignorant that it was her own boyfriend just making her into a big phony success.

She blew out a breath and got into his car.

He slid into the driver’s seat and turned to her. “How can I make it up to you? I’m sorry I waited so long to tell you.”

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

“No, I don’t want that.”

“Well, I do. I can’t trust you.”

“You can always trust me.”

“You lied to me! You made me believe in myself and my art. The whole time I went on and on about how excited I was to sell all those paintings and you were secretly laughing—”

“I wasn’t, I swear. I would never laugh at you.”

“And your mother! She must’ve thought it was crazy, all these paintings being delivered every day. There’s at least twenty paintings just sitting in a spare bedroom.”

“Am—”

“Don’t! Don’t say my name. Don’t say another fucking word to me.”

He shut up.

He pulled the car out into the street. She heard him call Ian, tell him to lock up when everyone left, and stared out the window, unable to stop the tears rolling down her cheeks. She felt like the most pathetic starving artist that ever lived. At least her jerk ex-boyfriend Rick had been honest about how her paintings were a cute little hobby. Bare pretended they were the best thing in the world, cheered her on when she got sales, all the while buying them for his own little game. She’d never, ever felt so betrayed.

~ ~ ~

Bare dropped off an eerily quiet Amber and went to his apartment in a near panic. He couldn’t lose Amber over this. He hadn’t thought it through. It had all been with the best of intentions, all of it. He just wanted her to be happy. For once his brother wasn’t hanging out on his sofa eating all his food. He really could’ve used someone to talk to and help him figure this thing out.

He took a few deep breaths.
Okay, calm down
. Think rationally, logically. This is a problem, and there is a solution. He sat on the sofa. He’d make a flow chart. Problem, possible paths to solutions, possible outcomes. Yes, flow charts made sense.

He grabbed his laptop and began. Problem: Amber wants to break up because she’s upset. Desired outcome: Not to break up.

Path to solution: Stop the upset.

See, already he was a step closer to desired outcome. He stared at the blinking cursor. How to stop the upset.

A. Apologize.

He deleted that one. He’d already done that, and the upset hadn’t stopped.

B. Bring gifts.

Flowers, chocolates, jewelry. Okay, that was a definite possibility and easy enough. He ordered some flowers to be delivered with a small note that said, Love, Bare. He added a small teddy bear to the order because he was her bear. She always called him Bare. He got choked up and shut the laptop.

For the first time in months he found himself utterly alone. No cast and crew surrounding him. No Ian annoying him. No Amber wrapped around him. She’d said that Pavlovian response thing just to hurt him. She never would’ve responded to his command if she wasn’t already into him. That couldn’t be trained into an unwilling subject. She’d wanted him just as much as he’d wanted her. Well…he probably wanted her more. He hungered for her in a way that was unnerving, even to him, in its insatiable need. He’d never felt like that with another woman. Like he craved her all the time. It was why he’d thought of that wager. He couldn’t stop wanting. He needed her to be ready and willing and, by God, she was.

He closed his eyes and tried to think. His mind was null, void, an empty, aching blank.

Fuck.

What was he going to do now? What would the Pirate King do? Dammit, this was exactly what he’d feared deep down. Show over, him and Amber over. Only it wasn’t because of the pirate effect. It was because of him.

He kicked himself for not telling her about the paintings earlier, before they’d gotten in so deep, before when it would’ve been a misunderstanding or an awkward conversation, because now it was fucking Armageddon. The end of their world together.

Amber couldn’t paint. Two weeks and she couldn’t move brush to canvas. What was the point? No one wanted her paintings. No one would ever buy them or appreciate them. She avoided the art studio Bare had rented. The place was filled with memories of the times he’d joined her there, the many, many, many times they’d made love. All that time he’d praised her art, knowing he’d sneak off and buy it when he got a chance.

Even at her apartment where she had some art supplies, she still couldn’t paint. It was only the first week of August, no rehearsals, no day job, and all of it wasted. All she did was mope around her apartment and annoy her sister with her bitchiness. At first Kate had been sympathetic. Well, as sympathetic as Kate ever got. She made Amber lukewarm chamomile tea whenever she got snippy, or near tears, or angry. Basically all day. Until finally Amber couldn’t take even one more cup.

“No more tea!” she told Kate. “It’s not calming me down. I’m still upset. All the time.”

Kate let out a stream of obscenities that had Amber’s jaw dropping. Her sister never cursed. Kate marched out of the kitchen and stopped in front of Amber, where she was sitting on the sofa watching
Zombie Bonanza
.

Kate blocked out her view of the TV. “That’s right. I call bullshit.
Enough
, Amber. I swear I’d rather hang out with puppy-eyed Ian than have to deal with you sniping at me every fucking day.”

“He’s only puppy-eyed because you won’t sleep with him,” Amber retorted. “Smart move. I should’ve followed your example.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “You and Barry were like cats in heat. I could barely get out of the apartment fast enough. Don’t flatter yourself. There’s no way in hell you could’ve followed my example.”

Amber deflated.

Kate shoved her glasses back in place. “I hate to be the one to point out the obvious but, logically, you breaking up with him because he bought your paintings makes no sense.”

“I told you he didn’t just buy my paintings. He lied about it. He bought them as his mother and had everything hidden at her house. He let me go on and on, thinking I was actually getting somewhere with a real collector who loved my work when it was all him.”

“Maybe he just didn’t have room at his apartment to store them.”

“Argh! That’s not the point.” She waved her hand toward Kate’s laptop. “Never mind about me. Just go back to your prime numbers.”

“I’m off that. Now I’m looking into posters for my new grad school apartment.” She sat next to Amber and showed her the screen. “What do you think of this one?”

Amber glanced over. Sheldon from
The Big Bang Theory
.

“Perfect,” Amber said. “It’s like the male version of you.”

“I liked you a lot better when you were getting laid,” Kate said.

She liked herself a lot better then too.

“Just please go over there and talk to him,” Kate said. “Ian and I can’t take the two of you anymore.”

That really burned. Ian and Kate crashing their apartments and freeloading all summer and
they
couldn’t take it?

“You two are lucky we let you stay with us rent-free all summer,” Amber sniped.

Kate turned. “I can move out if you’d like.”

Amber immediately regretted her words. “No! I’m sorry.” She hugged her sister. “I’m just upset. Don’t move. You can stay until school starts.”

Kate went back to her laptop. “It’s only two more weeks.”

“I know.”

Amber went to her easel, her mind a blank. She waited, hoping for that spark, that tiny inkling of an idea of color or shape. Nothing.

A few minutes later, Kate announced, “I’ve called an emergency meeting of your friends.”

“What?”

“You haven’t left the apartment in two weeks. That’s not like you. Steph and Daisy are coming over.” She set Amber’s cell phone back on the coffee table and went back to her laptop. Obviously she’d pulled her contact info from her cell.

Amber bit back a groan. She hadn’t called her friends because all she wanted to do was be alone. She was terrible company, and the only reason Kate put up with her was because she was still easier to deal with than Kate moving back home and dealing with her mother.

An hour later, Steph and Daze swooped in.

“Come here, girl,” Steph said, wrapping Amber in a hug.

“You guys,” Amber said, her voice muffled by the taller woman’s chest. “I’m fine.”

Steph turned and pushed her toward Daze, who also gave her a hug though not nearly as tight due to the baby belly between them.

“You’re lucky we love you,” Steph said. “Otherwise your complete noncommunication would really piss us off.”

“You need your bitches when your man does you wrong,” Daze said.

They cracked up. Amber hadn’t laughed in so long it felt strange. They settled on the sofa. Kate brought over wine, with iced tea for Daisy, and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of them.

“So how bad can it be?” Steph said. “This is Bare we’re talking about. The man is crazy about you. What in the world could he possibly have done that was so bad?”

Amber was quiet. It was painfully embarrassing. She shot Kate a look. This was all her fault for bringing her friends into this.

“Did he cheat on you?” Daze asked.

“He wouldn’t have had the energy for that,” Steph said. “He was screwing her every chance he got.”

“I can confirm that,” Kate said.

Amber flushed and drained half her glass of wine.

“So what’s the problem?” Daze asked gently.

At Amber’s silence, Kate piped up. “He bought her paintings as a woman.”

“Kate!” Amber exclaimed. That sounded all kinds of wrong.

“Are you saying he’s a cross-dresser?” Daze asked.