The side of Chantelle’s mouth quirked up athis enthusiasm. “That’s very poetic. I feel the same way aboutwriting.”
“You paint with words.”
She shook her head. “Not really. Besides,it’s not as if I’m writing fiction.”
“You don’t think your stories have animpact?”
Her lips parted, his question catching heroff guard. “I don’t think about that.”
Javier nodded. “I understand. I didn’teither, but when people tell me how my paintings make them feel, Ikeep that in mind when I make a new one. Someone’s affected by whatwe do, whether or not we know it.”
Heat radiated through Chantelle’s chest. “Yousure you’re not a life coach or something?”
Javier laughed, throwing his head back.
“I’m serious. You seem to give expertadvice.”
“I’ll think about it as a side career. Howabout that?”
Chantelle winked at him.
Then his look turned serious. “Can I ask youa personal question?”
“Sure.”
“Why are you still single?” He held up hishands. “If you don’t mind my asking.”
Chantelle ran her fingers through her curls.“No one’s been... serious about me. Not for a long time.”
Javier pulled his eyebrows in. “Why? Fromwhat I can tell already, you’re amazing. I’m enjoying getting toknow you. I hope to learn more.”
She ran a hand down her cheek. “Thank you,but I guess I’m… picky.”
“Picky?”
“I have in my mind the relationship that Iwant and I’m not willing to settle. I’ve done that before and Iwon’t do it again.”
“A relationship like what?”
Chantelle released a deep breath. “You reallywant to know?”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.” His eyeswere soft, as if he cared.
She wrung her hands together. “I’ve been toldall my life how beautiful I am. I appreciate that, but I’m morethan my looks.” Chantelle sighed. “I can remember the first time Itried makeup. People kept saying I looked even more gorgeous. Beingbeautiful is just the surface. I’m compassionate, generous, a hardworker, and I love and respect my family and friends. I’m not atrophy for a man to sport on his arm.”
Javier nodded. “I’m sorry you’ve felt thatway.”
“Thank you. Me too. I’ve been working on notassuming that’s all people see, but sometimes I divert back tothat.”
He inched closer. “I don’t want you toeither. I think what makes you beautiful is what’s on theinside.”
Her breath caught. Did he hear her gasp? “Iappreciate that.”
“So...”
“So...?” What did he want to say?
“Any chance of you hanging out with meagain?”
“I’d like that.”
Javier shuffled closer and took her hand inhis. Chantelle didn’t move, but stared at his thumb rubbing acrossher knuckles. His touch was gentle, but she couldn’t help butwonder what Javier was thinking.
Then her phone buzzed in her crossbody purse.She closed her eyes, but then released his grasp and dug into herbag to answer. “Can you give me a minute?”
Javier nodded.
Chantelle walked to face the window andstared at Lance’s name on her screen. She held the phone to herear.
“Bad time?” He asked.
She looked behind her to see Javierscrutinizing at his nearby sculpture. “I’m not home yet, but I havea minute.” She heard a noise as if it was coming from a TV. “Areyou out somewhere? I hear something.”
“Hold on.” A few moments passed, but sheheard his voice again. “Is that better?”
“Yes. What’s going on again?”
Lance replied. “I may need you on calltomorrow. Since I fired June, I’m looking for another weddingplanner.”
“I thought you found someone else already.Who can you hire on short notice?” She asked.
“No time with me traveling, but I will. Moneyis not an object.”
“Look at you.” She joked.
“Anyway, make sure you’re free tomorrow.”
“I’ll make a note of it. Thanks for the headsup.”
Lance cleared his throat. “Are youalright?”
“I am. Why?” Did she hear balls clanking inthe background?
“No reason.”
“You’re worried about me? That’s sweet.”
“I have no reason to be. Goodnight,Chantelle.” He hung up with no other explanation.
Chapter 18
Lance stuffed his phone back inside hispocket. Chantelle was probably out somewhere in town or… with…Javier. He didn’t know that. Rubbing the back of his neck, hereturned to the pool table with his friends. It wasn’t hisbusiness. It repeated in his mind like a broken record.
TVs played bolted in corners, while sportsparaphernalia decorated the walls. Glasses and bottles set ontables as music blared through the system. Lance grabbed a fewpretzels to eat despite his dry mouth. Between his parents and thewedding, he needed to unwind again with his friends.
“Everything good?” Grant asked.
“We’re good.” Lance then grabbed his chilledglass and took a gulp of his drink. “I can’t wait for the weddingto be over.”
“If it’s anything like mine,” Grant said,“Have your tuxedo. Know where the church is.”
“I think it’s all for the women, anyway.”Pete added.
“No more talk of weddings,” Craig said.
Lance ate a few more pretzels. He didn’t wantto talk about weddings anymore either. He needed to call and checkon Andrea.
“Alright.” Pete rubbed his hands together.“Let’s get back to the game. I think we were beating you two.”
Lance scraped the chalk cube against thecue’s tip. “Other way around.”
Grant nudged his shoulder. “I say let’sfinish it.”
Lance took his shot, feeling the smooth slideof the cue shaft along the crook of his hand. The balls knockedagainst each other, while one shuttled into the pocket. “Need I saymore?”
Pete rolled his eyes, leaning on hisstick.
“Haven’t lost your touch man.” Grant leanedover and took his turn. He missed.
Craig laughed. “I guess you lost yours.”
Lance didn’t think about wedding plans forthe rest of the game. By the time he said goodnight to his friends,he walked downtown. It must have rained since the concreteglistened. The smell of wet cement filled his nose, but he pacedalong the streets, heading for downtown.
He bypassed the coffee shop, deli, and thepost office. He spotted an empty bench and sat, grateful that theseat was dry. Lance sighed and grabbed his wallet. He hadn’t lookedin a long time, but he pulled out a black-and-white photo.
A sonogram. His baby. Chantelle’s baby. Thechild that would have been here if things didn’t
