All Things Beautiful, page 24
Life wouldn’t be like that, though. Casey didn’t know if this was a one-night or umpteen-night stand, but she’d be going to Florence soon, the birthplace of the Renaissance. Who would’ve imagined that Casey Norford, from a small town no one had heard of, would visit Italy?
She’d walk the ancient cobblestone streets that Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, and Botticelli once walked. Or perhaps she’d rumble over them on a Vespa. Erica had gushed about Via de’ Tornabuoni and the window shops of the upscale designer fashion and jewelry boutiques when she returned from her visit last summer. The more affordable stores on the Ponte Vecchio intrigued Casey, despite Erica’s tales of it being a hot spot for tourists and pickpockets alike. Shops built on a bridge struck her as unusual, but she hoped to buy inexpensive souvenirs there for the special people in her life. Like Leighton. She swayed at the thought of leaving the person who meant the most to her outside of Andy.
The nutty scent of Leighton’s coffee broke her reverie. Casey pressed the brew button on her Nantucket Blend and looked in the refrigerator for milk. Oat milk. So Leighton.
A chime from Leighton’s phone where it charged on the kitchen island drew her attention. A notification filled the screen. Activity Zone 7.
Casey tensed.
While likely a student had arrived and triggered a motion sensor, the possibility of Leighton’s ex-husband gaining entry to the building made her heart race. She loathed how he hovered on the periphery of Leighton’s life. Leighton didn’t seem to have heard it, so she grabbed the phone and dashed to the bedroom.
Casey rubbed her thigh through the sheet. “Leighton.” She shook her a bit. “Leighton, wake up.”
Leighton bolted upright. “What’s wrong?”
“Probably nothing.” Casey handed her the phone. “But you got a notification.”
Leighton played a short video. It looked to be of the studio. “It’s fine. Phoenix is down there.” She flopped against the pillow and pulled Casey to her with a smile. “Good morning.”
Casey’s heart raced, no longer due to the notification but the naked woman beside her. “Morning.” She brushed her lips over Leighton’s.
Minutes later, the simple kiss had evolved into something more significant.
“Is this my shirt?” Leighton undid the button between her breasts and tried to pull Casey on top of her.
Casey grinned and pulled away. “I made coffee.”
Mischief gleamed in Leighton’s eyes. “There’s more where that came from. Lose the shirt.”
Playful, wise, generous, talented, and gorgeous Leighton. Casey could delay a cup of coffee, but her will wasn’t as strong when it came to her.
An idea struck her, and she froze. Why hadn’t it occurred to her before? It was the answer to everything, and it got no more romantic. It’d show Leighton the magnitude of her feelings.
Lines formed on Leighton’s forehead. “What’s going on in that mind of yours?”
Casey’s chest heaved with excited breaths. “Come to Florence with me. Think about it. You, Kalyssa, me, and Andy. Wouldn’t you like to get away since your ex can’t seem to leave you alone? Best of all, you and I don’t have to be apart for six months. It’s the perfect solution. We’d be together.” She brushed Leighton’s messy hair from her eyes and gulped air. “Come with me.” Her heart tried to break through her chest.
Leighton looked at her with wide eyes, then blinked five or six times. “Casey.”
Casey squeezed her hand and grinned.
Leighton shook her head. “No.”
* * *
Feeling self-conscious now when she hadn’t been minutes before, Leighton pulled the sheet over her breasts. How could this be happening after the night they’d shared?
Casey let go of her hand. “No?”
“I can’t. Think about it. Surely, you understand.” She saw the hurt in Casey’s eyes.
“But the stalking seems to be getting worse. Don’t you want to get away from here?” Casey tugged the shirt tails over her thighs.
“Does he worry me? Sure, but I’m not going to abandon my life.” She surveyed the surrounding walls. “I’ve built this. It’s my dream. I haven’t shown what I can do yet, and you want me to walk away in the middle of it.” Leighton wished she’d said yes to the coffee, so she’d have something to do with her hands.
Casey stared at her lap. “Not forever. Just six months. It’s temporary.”
Leighton shook her head and refrained from rolling her eyes. “It’s an entire semester. Whom shall I hire to teach my classes?”
Casey buttoned the one Leighton had undone.
Leighton attempted to make eye contact. “How shall I pay my interim instructor? While we’re on it, how shall I pay for the flights and six months of lodging?”
“You and Kalyssa could stay with Andy and—”
She scoffed. “Have you seen the size of the rooms in Florence? How do you know they’re planning on providing for Andy? Did they even know you had a son before last night? And while we’re traipsing through the Uffizi or fucking one another, who will watch the children?” Leighton motioned for Casey to move so she could stand. “I’m sorry this isn’t the response you expected to what you surely thought was a grand, romantic gesture.”
Wrapped in the sheet, Leighton entered her walk-in closet, then pulled on leggings and a T-shirt. No sound came from the bedroom. She peered around the doorway. Casey still stood in the same spot, holding the tails of the shirt in her hands. “Well, it isn’t romantic. It’s not fair for you to ask something this monumental of me when you consider the short time we’ve…” She gestured between them. It wasn’t a relationship. They’d had sex. Monday morning would once again see them as teacher and student. Christ.
Casey’s chin quivered.
At the sight, Leighton’s resolve wavered slightly, but she had a dream, too. She handed her a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt. “Take these and get dressed. You should go.”
Chapter Thirty-one
When Leighton began her Monday morning lecture, Casey wasn’t in attendance.
It was bad enough Casey missed her class, but she was absent when Maxine came to congratulate her on her win. Maxine seemed surprised she wasn’t there, and Leighton’s attempt to make excuses for her only made the situation worse.
After teaching her lesson, and with as much calm as she could muster, she pulled Mark aside. “Do you know where Casey is?”
“She and Andy left before me.” He frowned. “I assumed she’d be in class. Do you want me to call her?”
“No, go ahead and work on your assignment. Thanks.” Leighton wandered through the studio. Perhaps Casey felt ill and returned home. However, Mark’s explanation made her question that scenario. He would’ve mentioned if Casey had been unwell that morning.
Casey’s exuberant invitation echoed in her head. Had she been too harsh with her rejection of the silly idea? She had to admit, under different circumstances, it might have been a little romantic. Leighton ran her hand along the top of Casey’s taboret.
With a heavy heart, Leighton debated what to do. Casey had yet to be absent or arrive late, and yet this was the day it happened. It couldn’t be a coincidence it followed their conversation. Of course, Casey would’ve taken it hard. She should have realized that.
Even though her annoyance with Casey’s unexplained absence reigned supreme among her emotions, she couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that something might be wrong. Her stomach heaved acid at the thought, and she poured her coffee down the sink.
Just before noon, Mark entered her office. “Hey, I texted Case to ask where she was.” He extended his phone for her to read.
Casey’s response to his question asking about her well-being was a short, cryptic text saying she’d be present for Stefan’s class.
Leighton’s insides curled into a ball. “Thanks, Mark.”
It was bad enough what transpired afterward now colored their first intimate encounter. Plus, they still had weeks to go as teacher and student without their evening together coming to light. She didn’t know what Mark knew. He’d accompanied Casey to the event, and not only had she left early, but she hadn’t gone home at all. Did he know where Casey had been, and if he did, had he lost all respect for Leighton?
What they’d done stood to be one of the worst decisions Leighton had made. She’d gotten caught up in her happiness for Casey and had allowed herself to indulge in the moment. Why hadn’t she waited? They wouldn’t be dealing with this drama now. She doubted Casey would’ve invited her to Florence if they hadn’t slept together.
They needed to figure out the situation. Then Casey would go to Florence for six months, which sounded like an eternity. No dimpled smiles, no bubbling laughter, no more lively discussions about art or techniques, no pizza and play dates, no more thrilling touches or comforting hugs, and no more orgasms so fantastic they made her daydream. Perhaps worst of all, no more instances of Casey making Kalyssa’s day by giving Leighton’s daughter her undivided attention.
Gone. The air left Leighton’s lungs at the thought.
* * *
Skipping school gave Casey a rare free morning, so she ran a few errands and spent time with Andy before dropping him at Aileen’s. Then she treated herself to a coffee and walked through Central Park to sort the jumbled thoughts in her head. She hated to miss Leighton’s class, but interacting as student and teacher didn’t seem wise right now, and the way Leighton had asked her to leave still stung.
As she walked, Casey considered her options. Her feelings for Leighton were more than a passing attraction. Her interest in her went deeper than pure desire. Casey liked her as a person, enjoyed being with her, respected her, and her protectiveness when it came to Leighton equaled that for Andy. Casey wanted more, and if given the opportunity, she’d spend years learning what made Leighton happy.
However, her fantasy wasn’t meant to be. Casey couldn’t have what she desired, and she didn’t know how things had gone so wrong. Perhaps she’d asked for too much too soon, though complications had plagued their quasi-relationship prior to that. Her parents might be right, for it seemed she made poor decisions at every turn.
Asking Leighton to join her in Florence might not have been the best idea, but she’d been so caught up in her celebratory mood. In the past, she’d always been bold, but in hindsight, many of her decisions could’ve used more forethought. Despite her best intentions, her courage and strong will often revealed her naivete, like now. The euphoria that had resulted from winning caused her to go too far. The more she considered it, avoiding Leighton’s class for the remaining weeks would be for the best. After Leighton’s reaction, Casey was sure she regretted sleeping with her.
When she arrived in the studio, she breathed a sigh of relief that Leighton wasn’t present. It made things easier. She might not have attended the earlier lecture, but she wanted the notes, and Jenna owed her. Since they had a few minutes before Stefan began teaching, Casey stopped by her station.
“Jen, can I get a copy of your notes from this morning? Whatever you have is fine. I just need an idea of what she taught today.” Casey ran a hand through her hair.
Jenna flashed her a bright smile. “Yeah, we missed you. I don’t worry as much about my note-taking since Leighton started giving me copies of her lesson plans ahead of time. I find I’m understanding everything so much better and think I can hold my own and keep up with the rest of the class now.” She flipped through some papers. “Here’s the one for today, and I’ll email you my notes.”
Casey’s jaw went slack. “Leighton’s been giving you her lesson plans?”
Jenna nodded. “She offered. I don’t know if that’s technically what they are, but they outline what she’ll be going over each day. She’s very thorough, and they’ve helped a lot.”
Was Leighton’s preparation to this extent usual? Casey had never witnessed her reference any papers while lecturing. Had she created them specifically for Jenna? Either way, finding a way to make the information accessible to Jenna’s learning style had been thoughtful. She recalled how upset Leighton had been when she hadn’t been aware Jenna was struggling.
Stefan announced he was starting class, so Casey thanked her and returned to her station.
While she could’ve let Leighton consume her thoughts, the information she learned today on painting reflected surfaces would be needed to complete her trompe l’oeil. The small, realistic paintings were so lifelike people said they tricked the eye, therefore, it was imperative she learned these techniques.
Casey listened to Stefan talk about the differences between specular and diffuse reflections. While perhaps not as gifted as Leighton, his skills couldn’t be discounted. However, while he possessed more than a proficient ability to command the technical aspects, Leighton seemed to imbue her paintings with something otherworldly, something larger than life. Perhaps that’s why he’d succeeded in academia, and Leighton had found success as an artist.
“Okay, folks.” Stefan erased the whiteboard. “Choose a setup from the still-life objects on the shelves or bring things to use from home.”
Casey decided to participate even though the assignment wasn’t due for two months, and she wouldn’t be here next semester.
At least leaving was the plan. She hadn’t emailed her Florence acceptance form yet.
After pouring a cup of coffee, she wandered over to the north side of the room. Students had left most of the protective glass fronts open, and the dark walnut shelves held an unusual array of trinkets resembling collections she’d seen in dusty antique stores in the East Village with Mark on Sunday afternoons. The cabinets overflowed with shells, leather-bound books, feathers, and glass blob top bottles ranging in color from aquamarine to amethyst.
An entire shelf dedicated to metallic objects like silver pitchers and teapots, small oil cans, and mismatched candlesticks reflected light off their shiny surfaces. Another held only white items: vases, milk glass, figurines, eggshells, cue balls, bones, teacups, and candles. Individual Mason jars contained collections of marbles, skeleton keys, buttons, small spoons, and pocket watches. Artists seemed to have an affinity for certain objects. She’d witnessed it many times while scrolling through the Instagram accounts of painters she followed.
Casey touched the smooth surfaces of a copper-and-cream nautilus shell, an Erlenmeyer flask, and an ammonite. She considered an antique globe, a mandolin, and an illustrated deck of playing cards before she selected a vintage folding camera, an hourglass, and a small brass biplane.
The composition of her trompe l’oeil would be completed by a black-and-white photograph of her grandmother as a young woman. The scalloped edges of the snapshot contrasted with the sleek Katharine Hepburn-style slacks her grandmother wore as she stood alongside her Schwinn bicycle. Casey grinned at the prospect of using paint to re-create a photograph.
Lost in thought, she’d neglected to notice Stefan stop beside her. He munched on a red licorice rope. How long had he been there?
“Everything okay?” He pulled off a bite with a snap that made her teeth hurt. “I heard you weren’t in class this morning.” Three more protruded from his other hand.
“No, but I’m fine.” She gave him a pointed look. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”
Her tone must have been enough to convince him to quit questioning her. “I just thought I’d ask.” He took a step back. “If there’s anything I can—”
“There’s not, but thanks.” Casey gathered her items and took them to her station. Stefan didn’t need to get involved in their sticky situation, friends with Leighton or not. The mess they’d created was theirs, and one of them needed to figure out what to do. Her stomach churned from stress and too much caffeine, and her mind whirled as she contemplated possible solutions.
Chapter Thirty-two
Casey pushed the loaded utility cart with her clipboard, barcode scanner, and boxes of new inventory down the aisle that housed drawing materials. Before he left, her manager had instructed her to stock the shelves when she didn’t have customers, as nights tended to be slow. She began by replenishing the Carbothello colored pencils, checking each one for a sharpened point before she slid it into its labeled slot.
She’d worked at this family-owned art supply store for a few years, making her way up to assistant manager. If she had more time and flexibility, she’d have a managerial role and salary by now. However, she enjoyed quiet nights like this after a day of classes, not that she’d been there a full day or attended Leighton’s class. Still, she’d been busy. At least skipping class had allowed her to sort out her thoughts.
As she recalled her walk through the park, she opened a cardboard box. It contained sets of Unison pastels, and she admired the hand-rolled, oblong sticks. They lacked uniformity, and their unique shapes appealed to her. She considered buying them. After all, she’d sold a painting and won an award. Plus, she’d never tried pastels with any true intention. Instead, she shelved the set and told herself she’d consider it.
A bell on the door signaled a customer had entered the store. Casey stepped out of the aisle to offer a greeting, but it caught in the back of her throat. Leighton glanced around until she spotted her. She crossed the distance between them in a few purposeful strides. When Leighton followed her into the aisle, Casey turned to her cart of inventory and resumed working.
