Chapter 29
The art station was tucked beneath a canopy of vines.
Soft light filtered through the leaves, dancing over canvases and tangled ivy, over jars of cloudy paint water and palettes smeared with jewel tones.
Easels stood in a loose circle.
The air smelled like lavender, lemon oil, and something softer…
like a garden that knew how to keep secrets.
Jamie and Blake had signed up for Painting Under the Vines mostly as a joke.
But now?
Standing side by side, sleeves rolled, fingers stained with color…
they were… content.
Relaxed.
Together.
Not trying.
Not pretending.
Just there.
They weren’t alone – three other couples filled the space, quiet laughter weaving through the hum of bees and soft jazz.
Jamie dipped his brush into a pale blue and glanced sideways.
“Are you… painting a croissant?”
Blake didn’t even flinch. “It’s abstract.”
“Of course it is.”
“It could be a sunrise,” Blake added. “Or breakfast. Or love.”
Jamie snorted. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re beautiful when you’re happy.”
Jamie stilled.
Just for a second.
Brush hovering.
Oh.
He looked down quickly, pretending to focus on his canvas – soft blues bleeding into blush pink, something that might have been the ocean… or a memory.
Blake stepped closer, peering over his shoulder.
“Balconies?” he asked.
Jamie nodded. “I think so. Or… how it felt. I didn’t really plan it.”
Blake’s hand rested lightly on his shoulder.
“It looks like you,” he said.
Simple.
Certain.
Jamie exhaled softly.
That shouldn’t feel this big.
But it did.
They painted in easy silence after that.
Brushes moving. Colors blending. Time stretching in that slow, golden way that only happened when nothing felt forced.
At one point, Blake reached over and smudged a streak of gold onto Jamie’s cheek.
“Oops.”
Jamie blinked. “That was deliberate.”
“Creative instinct.”
Jamie dipped his brush into violet and tapped it onto Blake’s forearm.
“Artistic retaliation.”
That should have been the end of it.
It wasn’t.
Soon there were paint smudges everywhere – wrists, sleeves, a streak along Blake’s jaw that he absolutely didn’t wipe off.
Jamie laughed, breathless, wiping at his own nose. “This is chaos.”
Blake looked entirely too pleased. “This is how masterpieces happen.”
Jamie rolled his eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”
Blake’s gaze softened.
“I think you’re the masterpiece.”
Jamie turned back to his canvas so fast it was almost suspicious.
Do not react. Do not react.
He was smiling anyway.
When the class ended, they didn’t leave right away.
They stayed under the vines, iced lemon tea in hand, fingers still stained with color.
The world felt quieter here.
Slower.
Blake’s knuckles brushed Jamie’s hand.
Light.
Intentional.
Jamie didn’t pull away.
Didn’t even hesitate.
Blake looked at their hands for a moment…
then back at him.
“I like this,” he said softly.
Jamie tilted his head. “The painting?”
Blake smiled faintly. “No.”
A pause.
“Us.”
Jamie met his eyes.
Felt it settle.
Not nerves.
Not uncertainty.
Something steadier.
“I do too,” he said.
And this time…
he didn’t look away.