Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

Phillip

Eager to pick Rose up and get her settled in at my place, I leave home early and stop off at Snug to grab breakfast for us both. After such a rough few days she deserves to be spoiled. I came up with a plan for our weekend after we talked last night. Rose is understandably worried about when she'll be able to return to her flat, and I know she's nervous to meet my family on Sunday too, so today we'll relax and get her comfortable staying with me. Tomorrow we'll go for lunch at my parents' house. I know everyone is going to love her so by the end of the meal she should be feeling much more relaxed. Then, once we get back to mine, I'll talk to her about the art show. So many things have got in the way of me telling her about it but I'm confident this plan will work.

Even the lashing rain isn't enough to dampen my mood while I help Rose carry her bags out to my car. She's only brought a small suitcase and rucksack, but insisted on carrying the rucksack herself despite my protests. It doesn't seem like much since we don't know how long she'll need to stay with me, but when I asked her if she was sure she had enough stuff she assured me the suitcase holds a lot more than you'd think. I didn't argue but remained somewhat sceptical until I lifted the damn thing and the weight nearly pulled my arm off. Did the people who made that magical nanny's bag make Rose's suitcase too?

Pleased she has plenty of stuff, since I want her to be as comfortable as possible over the next few days, I don't complain about the weight as I put the case in the boot of the car. If I had it my way this would turn into a permanent arrangement, but I know voicing that thought so soon would only freak her out. I am considering this temporary visit a test run for the real thing though. To an outsider it might seem like I'm moving too fast, but I don't see the point in holding back when I know Rose is the one for me. I just need to get through this storm and telling her about the damn art show. Then I can focus on the long-term with my raincloud.

Rose

"You are a saint," I praise when Phillip hands me a coffee and pastry bag from Snug. "Thank you for this." I toast him with my pecan plait from the passenger seat of his car. Nudging my rucksack forward in the footwell I stretch out my legs as he pulls out onto the road. He tried to insist on carrying the bag as well as my suitcase, worried that I'm still on the mend, but I won that battle. I'm feeling much more myself today and the case is heavy as fuck, no way was he carrying my bag as well when I was perfectly capable.

I take a bite of the pastry and moan softly in pleasure as the delicious combination of maple and pecan fills my mouth.

"You can't make sounds like that while I'm driving," Phillip grumbles, shifting in his seat.

"It's not my fault, Violet is a baking goddess ." I shrug with a cheeky grin, washing down the treat with a sip of coffee.

"Is your friend coming to pick up Aria soon? I don't like the look of this rain, it's even heavier today."

"Bel will be there in about half an hour, don't worry."

Aria and I video-called Bel last night. When he asked if I needed to stay with him too Aria gleefully informed him I'd be staying with Phillip instead. The two had ribbed me mercilessly and Bel insisted we catch up properly again soon, saying he needed all the details. The two of them together are a menace but I wouldn't have them any other way.

Once we arrive at Phillip's he leads me straight upstairs, pausing on the landing, looking tense.

"I'd like it if you would stay with me but if you'd be more comfortable using the guest bedroom, that's fine too. I don't want to rush you."

Smoothing a hand down his arm I step in close to reply, "I'll stay with you." It wasn't my intention but my words carry an unexpected weight. Neither of us are ready to come out and say it yet but I think we're both hoping I'll end up sticking around for much more than a few nights sooner rather than later.

Phillip's bedroom is just as cosy as the downstairs of the house led me to believe it would be. His furniture is all large, wooden, sturdy-looking pieces in a rich oak shade. I make a mental note to ask him later if he made it all himself. The double bed is covered with forest-green sheets with two pillows for each side and there's even a decorative throw cushion with a cream background showcasing the leaves of popular British trees positioned neatly in the middle. My sock-clad feet sink into the soft carpet and I rock back and forth on my heels, enjoying the sensation.

"I cleared out some space for you." Phillip gestures to the top two drawers in his chest of drawers, a rosy blush tinting his cheeks. "I know you're only staying for however long the storm lasts but I want you to be comfortable."

"Thank you. Seriously, this is great. Would you mind if I unpack later? I'd like to get a little more painting done since I missed the last few days if that's alright with you?"

"Of course, as long as you're sure you're up to it? We have plenty of time if you want to wait until Monday." From someone else, the question might have irritated me but I know Phillip isn't asking if I'm sure I'm ready because he doesn't believe I'm capable. He's asking to make sure I'm not pushing myself because I'm stressing out, and that makes all the difference.

"I'm sure. I'll only do a couple of hours and then we can spend the rest of the day together."

"Sounds good. I'll come out and get you when it's time for lunch?"

"Perfect." I press a quick kiss to his lips then lead the way downstairs.

Out in the workshop a smile plays on my lips while I set up the paints I need for the day, splashes of colour dotting my palette. The two set panels I started painting before my flare-up have had time to dry and I decide it will be easier on my body to add some detail to them rather than starting on the base colour for the other two.

Once again, I mix up an array of greens that will help show the individual leaves and add depth to my work. While intricate, it is actually pretty quick work once I get into the rhythm. Unlike when I'd been trying to get back into painting before starting this project, I'm not overthinking or second-guessing myself when it comes to the placement of every brush stroke. Following my instincts instead of agonising over every detail is freeing in a way I have missed deeply.

When my hands start to ache despite the support provided by my compression gloves, I decide it's time to stop for the day. Like Phillip said, I have time before Aria's deadline and the set will still be here on Monday. Stepping back, I assess the work I've done so far. A surprising, but not unwelcome, sense of pride fills me as I take it all in.

They look good . Sure, there is still plenty of detail to add before they're finished but the foundation is there. Gratitude washes over me when I think about how far I've come. If it wasn't for this project I would probably still be struggling to reconnect with my creativity and I would have never run into Phillip again. I'm not usually someone who buys into fate and all that stuff, but when I think about how all of this only happened because the original artist Aria hired dropped out last minute, I can't help but feel this was meant to be.

It may have only been a few weeks but so much has changed for me in that time, both personally and professionally. While I hoped trying something so different would help me find my spark again, I never imagined I would be comfortable enough to start creating a new portrait again so soon. As for Phillip, he is something I never saw coming. I was so focused on recapturing my creativity he snuck past my defences and into my heart. I've fallen hard , to the point where I now struggle to imagine my future without him in it, but for the first time I know I've fallen for someone who can be trusted with my heart.

After lunch we spend the afternoon curled up together on Phillip's sofa watching TV. As we lie there I realise how much I've missed having my hair played with when he absentmindedly runs his fingers through my long locks. Later at the dining table we share a delicious meal that Phillip cooked, and once we've finished he protests when I insist on doing the dishes. After he's helped me dry them off, we watch some more TV before heading upstairs for an early night. Phillip smiles at my goofy patterned pyjamas, sky-blue with different breeds of dogs wearing sunglasses, then shakes his head and pulls me onto the bed and into his arms. Burrowed under the covers, Phillip's comforting warmth at my back, contentment washes over me. I might not know what will happen with the storm and when I can go back home, when my next flare-up will be, or how the portrait I started will turn out, but I do know that I'm safe here and that Phillip will be in my corner no matter what happens.