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“I love you,” he said, as if that were answer enough.
“And I love you.” Both of them knew it wasn’t an answer to the question she’d asked.
He exhaled, his gaze on the sunlight across the wall. “You’re the anonymous artist who isn’t anonymous anymore. And I have this platform that won’t work the way I planned. Let’s see how we’re going to make that all work.”
Her hair brushed his chest as she looked up at him. “You’re already planning lecturers to help with the emotional side.”
He sighed. “But can I do more?”
She stroked his face with one hand. “You’ve provided a beautiful, safe place. But maybe they need to do some of the work themselves. What about establishing pods in each of your warehouses? Like a potters’ pod and a painters’ pod? Where they can talk things through together.”
There he went again—taking everything on himself, as if he were the only one who could get things done. But she was right. His people were capable. “I’ll suggest that, then let them run with the idea.” He laughed, joy bubbling up. “Damn, we’re such a freaking good team. You have notions that never occurred to me.”
She nuzzled his chest. “You’re still the smartest man I know.”
He snorted. “If I was so smart, I would have found you years ago, when you were Lynx.”
“If you had, I wouldn’t be the same painter I am today. Our pasts shape us, and we’re the ones who have to run with it,” she said, echoing him.
“You would have become the woman and artist you are no matter what happened.” At the smile on her face, he knew how much his words meant to her. “But what will San Holo do now?”
She didn’t pretend not to understand. “I guess I’ve always been afraid my parents would see what I was doing and crush my work like they did before. Being anonymous allowed me to do whatever I wanted. I never had to come face-to-face with someone who said they hated it.”
“But now you have fans,” he said gently. “They want to hear from you.”
“But do I want to do appearances and interviews?” She shrugged. “I’m a little terrified of that.”
He tipped her chin, forcing her to look at him again. “You can take on whatever you put your mind to.” He tapped her chest. “In your heart, you know that.”
“But do I want to?”
“If you want to remain anonymous, I’m behind you one hundred percent.” He would back her no matter what she chose.
“But how can I do that since Hugo’s given everyone my name?” She pointed at her phone on the side table as it pinged with another text. “My phone’s been blowing up.”
“You could paint under another name,” he suggested, knowing even as he spoke that it wasn’t the answer.
“But that’s starting over again like I did after Hugo stole Lynx.”
She was already talking herself out of anonymity, so he played devil’s advocate. “Then be San Holo. Just refuse to do interviews and ignore social media.”
“Or I could have Adrian say Hugo’s claims are total bollocks.” Her Britishisms were starting to come out.
Clay had to say it. “What about walking the walk? Especially after everything you told Dylan and Gareth?”
Saskia rolled onto her back, feeling the loss of his warmth immediately. Lovemaking with Clay was the most amazing of her life. And she wanted him in her life forever.
But that life was changing fast, and not only because Hugo had outed her. Fear suddenly roiled in her belly. “I’m afraid. I have to admit that. Own it.”
He didn’t touch her. She wished he would. But if he did, she’d never get all the words out. “You’re right about walking the walk. But I’m still afraid of getting screwed over by the people I love and trust.” She looked at him. “Not you. In any way imaginable. But it’s like a little kid who almost drowned and is terrified of the water after that. Even though she’s learned how to swim and will never come close to drowning again.”
He gathered her into his arms once more. “I get the analogy. You don’t have to make a decision right now. You have time to think about it.”
She gazed into his eyes, her heart filling up with him. “I love your generosity. I love how you think of everyone else before yourself. I love you.”
They clung to each other, and he whispered, “I can’t let Hugo Lewis get away with hurting you again. Do you understand that?”
She answered in that same reverent whisper, “Absolutely.”