Second Chances (Dreams Come True #2) (6 page)

The kid in me wanted to rush to the table and check out the mystery meal. Then I remembered I was an adult and he told me about his dream breakfast yesterday. “Cheese two ways and a mocha?”

With a chuckle, Sebastian nodded. “And fruit salad. I’d never forget your request.” He walked me to the table and helped me into my seat.

This time was less awkward. I was ready for him to pull my chair out, then push it in as I positioned myself in front of it. Still, it would take some getting used to. It felt like track and field all over again, the 400 meter baton relay, to be specific. This time, the handoff was a chair.

Sebastian lifted first my lid, then his. “I’m so glad you could join me.”

“Well, you’re paying me.” I joked. “I figured it was the least I could do.”

He sat and looked at me then. I mean…really looked at me…like I swear he could see into my soul. The action excited and unnerved me all at once. Since any attention from a guy made me incredibly uncomfortable, I draped my linen napkin over my lap and started to pick at my fruit salad with a fork.

As I chewed on a strawberry, he gestured to my mocha. Following his direction, I saw an envelope. “What’s this?”

“Open it later. Stick it in your purse or something.” His gaze swept over me. “Do you not own a purse?”

My cheeks heated slightly and I stared at my plate a moment to recover. “I have a purse.” I swallowed hard. “I simply left it at the shop.” Then I smiled at him. “More importantly, I have pockets.” To demonstrate, I stuffed the envelope in one of the long deep side pockets in my coveralls.

Sebastian snickered. “I can see that. Did you wear your nicest overalls for me?”

I knew he was teasing, or trying to, but for some reason, it hurt. Years of living with my father meant I didn’t react well in such a situation. I’d learned to never show my real feelings because it made me seem vulnerable, which was the last thing I needed. Never let them see a weakness. “Only the best for you, Sebastian,” I snapped. Then I set my fork down and took a long drink of the mocha. It was an attempt to soothe my feelings and give him some time to think about what he’d said. After several more swigs of the half hot chocolate, half coffee mixture, I remember a few key points. First, gawd, I hated the taste of coffee. This wasn’t soothing at all. Second, and probably most important, my body hated coffee. Though my last violent reaction to it had been in high school, this wasn’t something I was going to outgrow apparently. I could already feel my body reacting to it in the worst ways. The hated beverage gnawed at my gut making me even more uncomfortable.

Obviously, he noticed, since he grew unusually quiet. “I’m sorry, Marisa. I was only playing. Sometimes…” He sighed heavily and set his silverware down while he stared at me sadly. “I don’t know how to play.” It seemed like a huge admission from him. Hell, he’d even apologized. Under normal circumstances, I’d have been ecstatic. This, the way my body felt, wasn’t normal.

“I understand.” I spoke quickly. Already I was trying to decide how to make my escape. Soon, I’d be sick. A kind of sick I didn’t want to be here. The kind of sick I needed my bathroom, privacy, and ton of air freshener for. “Listen, I need to go. Breakfast was really nice.” I pushed my chair back and started to stand while my stomach churned.

“You’re leaving?” Sebastian set his napkin on the table and his eyes widened in alarm.

“Yeah. I have to go.” I took a step back away from the table.

“Was it something I said?” He stood and acted nervous, like he didn’t know what to say or do.

While I wanted to comfort him, reassure him, all I could think about was a toilet. My toilet. Several blocks away. “Nope. No worries. I’ll see you tomorrow. No breakfast. All work.” Nerves had me babbling and on edge. My brow had broken out in a cold sweat. My cheeks were on fire. Surely he could hear my insides gurgling. Giving a little wave, I mumbled, “Bye.” As I watched him, I had taken a few steps and was ready to rush from the room.

“I didn’t even ask you to marry me yet,” Sebastian blurted out, his mouth twitching like it couldn’t decide whether to frown or smile.

“Really?” I sighed. Shaking my head, I grumbled, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Nine in the morning.
Bye
.” Then I raced from the room, flew down the hall, burst from the gallery’s front door, and broke into a full on sprint the minute I hit the sidewalk. This was serious. And Sebastian had to be joking. We’d work on that. Somehow, I’d socialize him. Marriage wasn’t something to be taken lightly. Even more, marriage proposals were something that happened after dating a while, not every time we were around each other. Feelings had to develop. At the moment, all I felt was a certainty I’d never drink coffee again.

Chapter Six

Sebastian

Long after Marisa left, I sat and stared at the table. This was twice now we’d been unable to eat a meal together. This didn’t bode well for our future. Still, I refused to give up with only twenty-eight days left. So, I did what I do best. I mulled over the situation and tried to find a solution, understand what had gone so horribly wrong this time. Sure, I was a little rough around the edges. While I could be very charming, in my own way, I’d never had a way with women. I was too serious. I said inappropriate things when I was uncomfortable. I had no idea how to make a joke. There was a degree of comedic timing involved that I couldn’t seem to master. Through the years, rather than dwell on my personality issues, I focused my attentions on what I could control, what traits I could master.

The gallery had grown and flourished. Some of our best clients were women, despite my numerous flaws. I’d done what I could to make myself passable in the looks department. Clearly, at fourteen my life had changed dramatically in all the worst ways. When I was going through puberty and needed the love and understanding of my parents, I’d had only my hateful Uncle Luc to shape me. It would’ve been easy for me to sit around and mourn my lost life, imagine how different I’d be if it were my mother’s voice in my head. Sometimes, I can still hear it in my dreams. She’d comb my hair in front of her dressing table while murmuring such words of love. “There’s my handsome little man.” Goose bumps broke out on my skin as I remembered how her love warmed me. My father was equally complimentary. I still remember the last words he spoke to me after I shared my grades with him. “You’re growing up to be a fine man, Sebastian. You’ll excel at whatever you choose.” All I’d ever wanted was to work in the gallery with him and make him proud of me. What would they think of me now? I had become a shadow of my former self. I feigned confidence where it once existed. I played at happiness where it once came naturally. I struggled to feel love when it once nearly crushed me with its intensity. To think I had ever rued being an only child.

By the time I stood to clean up from breakfast, it was nearly dinner. My appetite had yet to return, just like Marisa. Slowly, I trudged up the stairs and wondered if it was too early to go to bed. By sleeping, she’d be here all the sooner. So I set the plates near the dishwasher and went to take a scalding hot shower, my punishment for ruining the day. Then I went to bed with the television on wearing only my boxer shorts. The cold felt comforting and familiar.

When I woke in the morning, groggy from so many hours of sleep and still feeling plenty miserable. The phone showed it was only four-thirty in the morning. To my displeasure, it also reminded me I had only twenty-seven days to go. Then, to my surprise, it notified me of a text.

Marisa: Sorry for my abrupt departure. It wasn’t you. It was me. (Not a line…this time.) ;) Thank you for paying the invoice in full. That was very generous of you.

The more I grew to know her, the more I liked her. She was polite in a way that was pleasant and unexpected. She didn’t take anything in life for granted. Sadly, as Isabella suggested, she didn’t seem to understand her worth. Somehow, I’d show her, but first, I had to figure out what to say to her. We seemed to do so well by text, maybe we should consider a long distance relationship. I scoffed at the idea. That could never be possible with her under my nose for the next two weeks. Or could it? Slowly an idea formed in my head. Maybe if we could build trust and friendship this way, it would be easier to transition to more…or something else. Feeling lighter, I sat up and propped my pillows against the headboard. Once comfortable, I replied to her text.

me: Hope you feel better. I’ve heard there’s a nasty bug going around. If you need to take the day, let me know. I’ll send soup by carrier pigeon and patiently await your return. Also, the invoice was too low. I’ve doubled your asking price. Thus, I’ve only paid you half. You deserve it.

Before sending, I checked it over to ensure I’d said all the right things and responded appropriately to her text. Voiced concern over her health.
Check
. Explained the payment.
Check
. Built her confidence.
Big fat check
. Damn, I’m really quite good at this. Smiling, I hit send without concern or remorse. It was lovely. Then I closed my eyes and laid the phone in my lap while I basked in my brilliance. The vibrating phone made me jump. Glancing at the screen, I grinned. Marisa was awake.

Marisa: Oh no. I’m feeling much better. I’ll be there on time. And I’m not one to accept charity. Please don’t overpay me because Isabella guilted you into it. My original invoice was fair.

My response was swift and far less charming. She was arguing with me, refusing my money. I wasn’t going to have it.

me: As your employer, you’ll take the other half and consider it a bonus, if that makes you feel better. Please note: Isabella gave me no guilt, but she did tell you not to sell yourself short. You did. I looked at it as an accounting error in your favor. It’s too early to fight. Just take the damn money.

Already my mood was souring and I still had hours before Marisa arrived. What was she doing up at this hour anyway?

me: Why are you even up? Go to sleep.

This earned me two responses before I could text again.

Marisa: Fine. I’ll take your money, but only because you’re insisting upon it. I’m not sure how I’ll adjust to my account being in the black though. I may start putting on airs, or worse, proper attire. Hope you can live with the monster you’ve created.

Marisa: PS. You may be my current employer, but you’re not the boss of me. I sleep when I want. Right now, I’m working. I’ll see you in a few hours. I’ll be the little drop of sunshine you ordered to brighten your otherwise gray day. Bam.

I’m not sure what the ‘Bam’ was about. I guess she thought she had the last word. Of course, I’m lousy with that. I couldn’t even help myself.

me: See you soon, sunshine.

There was so much more I wanted to say to her, but I was trying to hold back, rein in some of these wild emotions she stirred. It may have started on a whim, an idea for how to save the gallery, my condo…my very life, but now, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I really did want to marry her. She really had become my sunshine. When someone brightens your life like that, you can’t let go.

Needless to say, by the time Marisa breezed into the gallery, I was more than eager to see her. “Good to see you made it through the door in one piece.” I grinned, hoping she’d get my reference.

With a giggle she turned to me. “The glass is totally ruining my groove, but I’ll work with it. I mean, if you’re intent on things like security and central heat and air, I suppose I can cope.” She shrugged. “Where shall I get to work?”

Having anticipated that very question, I held out my arm and waited for her to loop hers through it. While I planned to avoid her as much as possible the rest of the day, I couldn’t go without a few moments of her touch. She had become vitamin D for my soul. Once Marisa had secured her arm in mine and smiled up at me in a way that made me want to carry her up to my bed, I took a deep breath and walked her down the hall to an empty storage room.

I watched quietly as she surveyed the space. There were shelves in there and a worktable with a few chairs. Since I’d never seen her set up at the shop, I had only been able to guess at her requirements.

Finally, she nodded. “This will do nicely.” On the far side of the room, I’d laid out all the pieces and parts she’d be working with. Slowly, she walked over to them. “You know, I’ll be in and out today as I gather supplies. I have some things at my shop, but I’ll need new sanding blocks, a few tools, and specific paints and fabrics for these.”

“The gallery will be open from nine in the morning until seven in the evening Monday through Thursday. On Friday and Saturday, it’s open until nine at night. You may come and go as you please. You’re not on the clock.” I shrugged and glanced out the open door. As planned, with her working in here, I could probably see her, watch her, and get my Marisa fix without disturbing her. Then a thought occurred to me. “Do you work with the door open?”

“Eh. Depends. We’ll see how distracting it is open. I hate feeling closed off.” She suddenly wrapped her arms around her body and I suspected there was much more to the story.

Tugging on my lip a moment, I studied her, but decided not to question her comment. “Well, I have a meeting, then back to work. I’ll be around if you need me. Don’t hesitate to text.”

“Sure.” Already Marisa had turned her back to me, ready to dive into her projects.

***

Marisa

The workspace Sebastian had given me was plenty large enough. As long as I kept busy, and left the door open, being in the windowless room didn’t bother me. Ah, but when the lights flickered, or the doorstopper failed, and I was left alone in the dark space, I’d be cramming my fist in my mouth to keep from screaming in terror. Sometimes, we can’t outgrow our childhood terrors.

Despite it all, the two weeks passed quickly. To my surprise, Sebastian wasn’t up my butt. He’d been busy having meetings with a really official-looking man in a suit he called Mr. Lefevre. Though I couldn’t attest to the nature of the meetings, which took place behind his closed office door, more often than not Sebastian would wear a sour look when they were finished.

It’s not as though he ignored me. We had developed a really nice habit of texting one another. I guess I started it the very first day.

me: Purple or pink?

Sebastian: Purple or pink what?

me: Pick one!

Sebastian: I need more to go on. Am I wearing it? Eating it? What?

me: Sitting on it, silly.

Sebastian:  Oh, then black.

I had to clap a hand over my mouth, I was laughing hysterically by then. Somehow, I knew as conservative as he dressed, he wouldn’t be open to my colorful suggestions. Still, I was convinced I knew what I was doing. After all, I had twelve years of practice. What did he know? Oh, and I took great pleasure in messing with him.

me: Purple it is!

Sebastian: Marisa!

me: Yes, handsome? ;)

It took several seconds. I froze, worried I’d gone too far. Peeking out the door, I looked toward his office. The door was open. He was sitting at his desk just staring at the phone screen. His cheeks were pink and he had a goofy grin on his face. Seeing that, I exhaled, unaware I’d been previously holding my breath.

Sebastian: Purple it is, sunshine.

As I was staring at his response, I heard a door close. When I’d turned around, he’d shut his office. I listened for a moment, wondering if it was because of a phone call, but there was nothing but silence between us.

Most days were like that. We worked in our separate spaces. I’d wondered if he’d ask me to lunch or have breakfast waiting for me in his office, but it never happened. Instead, we’d spend the day exchanging text messages on and off. Then the last day arrived. I figured I’d be done a little later than normal so I didn’t have to work into the weekend of come back on Monday. To my surprise, when I arrived, I found him standing in the workroom studying my pieces, tugging on his bottom lip.

“Do you hate them?” I stood by his side and wrapped my sweatshirt more tightly around me. It scared me how much I yearned for his approval.

Releasing his lip, he slipped an arm around my waist. “Not at all, Marisa.”

The way Sebastian spoke my name gave me chills. Apparently he noticed because he pulled me closer then walked me to the thermostat. “I’m okay,” I mumbled, my head hanging.

“Well, it’s on seventy, but you can turn it up if you need to. I can’t have you getting sick.” Sebastian released me, took a step away and walked toward the first piece I’d done, a now dark purple bench with gold and beige pillows I’d sewn. “This is amazing.” He turned and caught me beaming at him, basking in his praise.

Then I heard a familiar pop. The doorstopper had been pushed out of place from the weight of the heavy metal door, which was now slamming shut. The resounding clang of the metal on metal startled me and had me muffling a whimper with my sweatshirt covered hand. I began to rush for the door, but somehow he beat me to it. Opening it, Sebastian squatted and tried to wedge the stopper, and secure it while I swiped at my eyes and struggled to hide my emotions.

Quietly, he returned to my side and pulled me against his chest. “What is it, Marisa? And don’t lie to me. I’ll know.”

I shook my head. The nerve of him using my own words on me. Shame had me hiding my face and walking back to my last piece, a parson’s chair.