Chapter 23

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

R ae

My heart feels like it's on one of those tilt-a-whirl rides at the state fair: part exhilarating, part nauseous. One minute I'm enjoying Hutton's company, the next I'm feeling an overwhelming wave of sadness, knowing he's leaving. One minute I'm having the best Christmas I've had since Mom passed away, the next I'm faced with my ex and his expecting wife, reminding me that life is passing me by without that big family I always wanted anywhere on the horizon. Hutton has asked me to just enjoy our last few days together, and I'm desperately trying to do just that.

I pluck a smaller brush from my can of clean brushes and dip it into the Army-green paint. Every night, I've gone to the garage to work on The Nutcracker backdrop while Hutton is busy giving Henry a bath and getting him to bed. Thankfully the boy has the energy of Santa's reindeer on meth and takes awhile to fall asleep. With the addition of the extra acrylics picked up from the hardware store, I've started working on a small canvas too. It's only a twelve-inch square, which usually feels so restrictive my skin itches, but I'm enjoying the picture that's emerging so much I haven't noticed the usual limitations closing in. When I get the texture of the back of a dinosaur just right, I clean the brush and drape a drop cloth over the entire easel and head inside.

There's silence from Henry's room, which means Hutton must be done reading a story and has lain down next to him until he finally falls asleep. I slip into my bedroom and change into a pair of long pajamas. The feather earrings I wore all day come off and I wash away the mascara I swiped on too. It feels like a night made for a glass of wine in front of the fire. I head back out to the kitchen and pour two glasses, hoping Hutton will join me.

I sit on the couch and eye the scrap paper strewn across the end table. The pages have been multiplying. I don't read them, knowing it's Hutton's lyrics and feeling like it would be akin to reading someone's diary. Every time I wake up in the middle of the night and find his side of the bed empty, I know he's out here making music. I lie there trying to catch the soft notes from his guitar while I try to go back to sleep. It makes me happy to know he's found the space here to make music again. Which is a huge reason I haven't pushed him to define what we're doing together even though my heart is screaming with questions. Asking him yesterday outside the laundromat was a small break in my resolve to give him the peace he so obviously needs.

A soft snick of a door down the hallway sounds over the pop and crackle of the fire. Hutton emerges and sees me waiting for him on the couch. He immediately grins. It's such a small thing and yet it makes me feel appreciated beyond words. Hutton always looks excited to see me.

"Wine and a beautiful lady waiting for me?" Hutton sits and leans in to kiss my cheek before picking up his glass of wine and taking a sip.

"Well, you did make me pancakes this morning," I remind him.

"All Henry," he answers quickly, always downplaying how wonderful he is. He's not at all the entitled celebrity I assumed he'd be.

Hutton takes another sip of wine and then reaches over to take my glass of wine too, setting them both aside on the end table. I assume he's coming in for a kiss and hopefully a whole lot more. If I can't have his words of affection, I'll take what his body says every time we come together. It's not enough—especially if this was a real relationship we were striving for—but for this short visit, it'll have to do. He surprises me when he takes my hands in his and sits back on the couch, his expression serious.

"Can I suggest something radical?"

It takes me a second, and then I remember our first night in this house. His same question. "I love radical."

"I just want to have a real conversation," he says, squeezing my hands and apology in his eyes. "What did your ex say to you when we went sledding?"

I open my mouth, but he cuts me off. "And don't say you're fine."

I shut my mouth, pursing my lips at his insistence. I actually love that he's asking. Love that he hasn't swept my feelings under the rug…at least in this arena.

"Well, they opened with a snarky comment about sticking to less-creative pursuits because I can't possibly be making enough money off my art to live as a grown-ass adult."

Hutton's jaw flexes but he doesn't move a muscle. "I assume this is a common thing with them?"

I nod, feeling silly that I've let their comments get to me. "It is. I don't know why they keep putting me down when it's clear they've won this stupid battle of one-upping that I didn't even want to engage in. I just want them to live their lives and I'll live mine."

"What else?" he asks. At my silence, he elaborates. "You said they opened with the insult about your art. What did they say next?"

That knife in my chest drills down a little deeper. I don't want to say it out loud. Then again, Hutton asked for real conversation and I haven't even told Janna about their announcement. Everyone will know soon and I'll get all the pitying glances from my fellow townsfolk. I might as well get used to it now.

"They said they're pregnant."

Hutton winces. I try to keep drawing air into my lungs as the words hang there. I let out a squeak when he suddenly pulls me into his lap and holds me close with my cheek against his chest.

"I'm sorry, sugar. That had to be a shock."

Tears burn my eyes and I bite my lip hard to keep them from falling. I thought I'd finished all the crying over my ex-husband and my best friend's betrayal. I absolutely hate that they can still get to me like this.

Hutton sits with me, not saying another word for a long while. His thumb swipes across my knee as he holds me, letting me absorb the hurt and work it through my system. We both watch the fire in silence. When my breaths are more evenly paced, he finally speaks, his voice gentle.

"You said you want to just live your life. What is it that you want out of life, Rae Dunn?"

No one has ever asked me that before. I've asked myself that question constantly, ever since I knew my marriage to Gavin was nearing its end. Even so, it's a scary question to answer.

"Wow, that's really diving into the deep end of the conversation pool," I tease.

Hutton doesn't still his thumb. "I'd like to think you and I can have honesty between us."

I squeeze my eyes shut, heart latching on to that comment, knowing there're very few people he trusts in this world. To be one of them is a heady feeling.

"I want a career in art that fulfills me and also sustains me financially. I want a devoted husband and enough kids to fill a much larger house. I want to have vibrant friendships and a place in the fabric of my community. I want to travel and see the world. I want to try new things and revisit old things that make me happy. I want to wake up each morning and be excited for the day."

I force my lips to close and wait for the snort of laughter that will surely follow. But it doesn't come. Hutton nods, the scruff on his chin catching on the strands of my hair.

"That sounds amazing," he says quietly, like all of that is a done deal. Like I somehow have now spoken it into existence.

I push off his chest and sit up, gaping at him. "Seriously? You're not going to tell me I'm ridiculous?"

Hutton gapes right back, clearly confused.

My hands fly as I try to explain. "All my life I've been told going after the things I want is reckless, pointless, and naive. To want so many things is selfish and childish. Who am I to demand so much from life? Even my mom, an artist herself, insisted I choose a career over my art. I bucked against the advice, insisting I could have it all, but now that I've grown up a bit, I realize they might have been right all along. I went after everything, and I have nothing to show for it."

Hutton screws up his face. "What the fuck, Rae?"

I snap my mouth shut. It's not often I see Hutton angry. And certainly not directed at me. He grabs me by the shoulders like he wants to shake me, but thinks better of it at the last second.

"I don't know the issues with your ex, and I've only been here two weeks, but I can see that you are none of those things. I'm sorry you didn't grow up with someone who encouraged your growth and celebrated your interests." He spreads his hands, gaze burning into mine. "All this nothing you seem to think you have…has been everything for me and Henry."

My eyes don't stand a chance. A tear slips out and snakes down my cheek. Hutton's gaze catches it, but he doesn't wipe it away for me.

"Creative people can be misunderstood, Rae. Their varied interests and all-or-nothing concentration can be misconstrued as flighty. I should know. I am one. I just happened to grow up with parents who encouraged me to reach for my audacious goals and gave me the life-management skills to assimilate into the world around me. I'm sorry you didn't have that."

I wipe both cheeks, startled to find more than one tear. "I think that's why I want a big family. I want what I didn't have," I say thickly.

Hutton nods. "You should have whatever you want. You should also be able to chase your creative dreams. The two wants are not mutually exclusive." He licks his lips. "Not that I'm the best example of that. Lord knows I haven't been around for Henry as much as I should be. I'm still working on that."

His encouragement shifts something in my chest. The affection I was feeling from before dives deeper. An understanding passes between us, two messed-up artists who are trying to get their lives together.

"And what do you want out of life, Hutton Calder?" It seems silly to ask a famous singer with two decades of hits under his belt what else he could possibly want, but I know the man inside the Wranglers now. He's more than a singer. So much more.

Hutton's face transforms into a lopsided grin and he looks past me to the fire. "I want more of what I've had the last two weeks. More Henry. More quiet time. More time and space to create. I want something I'd given up on…a family." His gaze comes back to me and I find myself holding my breath, waiting for him to clarify that I'm an important part of that family piece. That he doesn't just mean him and Henry. "Thank you, Rae. You've given me the space to see what I didn't know I needed."

It's sweet, the gratitude. It's also not enough. Simply not enough to fill the aching hollow that fills my chest when I think of him and Henry leaving Snowhaven. Leaving me . I want him to add me to the list of things he wants for the future. Not some sweet gratitude for things that'll soon be in his past.

Hutton's hand comes up to smooth my hair away from my face. I jerk forward, needing to get away from his scrutiny before he finds the tears renewed in my eyes. I kiss him, gentle but insistent. He deepens the kiss and pulls me closer onto his lap and shifts my weight on his thighs. Needing to diffuse this moment and take us back to where we were before we laid our hearts bare and I found him in the center of mine when I am nowhere to be found in his, I resort to teasing.

"Do you have something in your pocket or you just happy to see me?" I drawl. It takes everything in me to sweep my heart aside and focus on the moment at hand.

Hutton's eyes open wide. "Oh, crap." He digs into his pocket and I have to shift to give him room. He holds up a mangled clump of weeds. "Aksel gave me some of his mistletoe. Says Morgana hangs it up everywhere at Havenkirk."

He holds it over my head, his dimple popping out when he adds in a cheesy grin. I shake my head, refusing to read too much into his looks. Hutton Calder is an accomplished flirt and I need to remember that. There's a reason the tabloids love him. Same for all the women screaming at the top of their lungs at his concerts.

"I don't need mistletoe to want to kiss you, choir boy."

And so, I do. We eventually head to my bed where I give him my body and firmly lock away my heart.

Dagny: Jerry said Rae bought a whole cartload of paint the other day.

Mayor Nancy Haney: I heard they were making out right there on Main Street outside the hardware store!

Doc: Well, crap. I missed it!

Dagny: The porno sites aren't doing it for you anymore, Doc?

Chief Blade: Can we please keep any incriminating information out of this text string?

John Ross: Wait, who's keeping track of our bets?

Janna: I am! And so far, Dagny, Mayor Nancy, and I think they'll end up together.

Doc: So, basically, the girls are romantics while us guys think it's just a casual hookup.

Dagny: *snort* I really do hate agreeing with Nancy.

John Ross: Add me in for thinking they'll end up together.

Doc: You're just saying that to keep your girl happy.

Mayor Nancy Haney: Says the chronically single guy… Maybe John's onto something.

Dagny: Oohh…burn!

Doc: The only thing burning is those biscuits you baked for Snowmass last night, woman.

Chief Blade: Some of us are trying to work. Can we take the insults offline?