Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
I pushed up from the table, fumbling for my phone as I approached him at the sink. “I’m sorry I was so late last night. I hope I didn’t keep you awake.”
He grunted.
Caveman.
Attempting to clear the scowl from my face, I leaned into him, and he stopped cleaning his plate (which was already clean) and straightened. If he was tense before, his body was now rigid with move away from me vibes. I didn’t. I tapped on my phone screen and held up the photo before his face. “What do you think?”
Jared scowled at it. “What am I looking at?”
“I got so inspired last night that I abandoned the final piece I’d originally intended to use for my show.” I traced the image with my finger. Instead of paintings on canvas, I made art with glass. I infused the glass with flowers, gemstones, real liquid gold, copper, and silver … the glasswork I showed Jared was a large piece that I’d painted in a mix of greens, blues, and golds. I’d taken some of the wildflowers from the wedding bouquet Jared gifted me and pressed them in around the edges. In the middle was a small cascade of aquamarine and peridot gems to represent the water. Faint streaks of gold shimmered through the center like the sun dapple over the surface. “It’s the loch behind Caledonia Sky.”
Jared took my phone to study the glass art. “This is yours?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve never seen your art before.” He glanced up from the phone. “It’s beautiful.”
A flush of pride filled me. “Thank you.”
Jared handed the phone back.
My fingers caressed his as I took it, and his eyes flashed to mine. “I was at my studio all night,” I explained pointedly. “When I get inspired like that, time just slips away. I’ll try to be better about that.”
He searched my face and nodded slowly. “Why don’t you go back to bed? I can look after the chickens.”
“I’ll see to the chickens. I made a promise, Jared. I never break my word.”
Understanding dawned in his expression. He nodded carefully. “Me neither. I know what people say about me, but if I promise a person I’m going to do something or not do something, I always keep my word.”
The tension I’d been carrying since he’d visited Sorcha in Inverness eased.
“I’ve spent the last week filling out forms for change of address, change of name, and uploading all my documents for my citizenship. My art has kind of fallen by the wayside in all of that so, I just … yeah, I got lost in it. Which is good because I have my show in a few weeks.” I gave him a small smile. “Would you … I know it might not be your thing, but I’d love it if you could attend it with me.”
That familiar frown wrinkled his brow. “I … that kind of thing isn’t really … You’re right. It’s not my thing.”
Hurt sliced through me, but I kept my smile in place. “Oh. I just … I thought maybe it might look good to the outside world if you showed up for me.”
Jared moved away from the sink, giving me his back as he wandered into the mudroom. “Aye, but they also know me and know I’m not really a cultured kind of bloke.”
Right.
Except this wasn’t really about him. I huffed bitterly to myself. Truthfully, I shouldn’t be surprised at this point. Jared wandered back into the kitchen, boots on, keys in hand. Expression blank of all emotion.
I breezed past him. “I’m going to feed the chickens.”
I could sense him watching me as I shoved my feet into my boots and grabbed what I needed. As I strode outside into the sunny but cool morning, I told myself not to be wounded by Jared’s rejection. No one in my family, except Aria, had ever been interested in my artwork. My parents liked to brag that I’d graduated from RISD, but they’d never attended any of my shows. They’d always had some work commitment. While they liked to brag about my success as an artist, I doubted they’d ever contemplated owning a piece of my work.
Aria had. She’d bought pieces for her own home and for Ardnoch Estate. And I knew it was because she genuinely appreciated my work if she was buying them for Ardnoch. Was it any wonder I put too much pressure on her to be everything for me? She was. She was the only person who’d ever really given a shit.
It should not surprise me in the least that my fake husband wasn’t interested. Hell, I bet a real one wouldn’t have been. It was weird … I’d had men become infatuated with me. Most of them, except for one, couldn’t see past my face and body. Their infatuation meant nothing. It was shallow and physical, and they didn’t care who I really was. I seemed to lack the ability to interest people enough for them to get to know me and to develop real feelings.