Page 28 of Room to Spare (The Fixer Upper #2)
ELEVEN
Maple Hill hummed with the kind of energy that only came from the events that shut down Main Street and turned the downtown area into a big party.
The streets were alive with color and music, each corner revealing a new burst of expression.
Keaton found himself swept into the vibrant frenzy, a stark contrast to the methodical rhythm of his usual days.
It was a welcome change, he decided, taking in the sights and sounds as he strolled alongside Finn, Finn’s teenage daughter Brooklyn, Noah, Eli, and Luke.
The air was rich with the scent of street foods.
Keaton absorbed everything—the laughter around him, the excited chatter of passersby, and the warmth of late spring sun on his skin.
It was the kind of day that promised possibility, and he couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of anticipation for what lay ahead.
“You sure you’re ready for this?” Luke nudged him playfully, eyes glinting with mischief. “You know, all this unpredictability might just be your undoing.”
Keaton chuckled, his gaze sweeping over the stalls lined with eclectic artworks and handmade crafts. “I’m more adaptable than you think. Plus, I have my secret weapon.”
He couldn’t help but smile, thinking of Jules and their infectious spontaneity.
Over the past couple of weeks, they’d been working to get him to quit checking his calendar obsessively, and he found it wasn’t as hard as he thought.
Today, he’d happily spend the entire day roaming the Art Crawl just so he could see Jules in their element without hovering over them.
“You really are changing,” Finn observed, giving Keaton a knowing look.
Brooklyn tapped him on the shoulder and held out her hand.
He sighed as he handed over his credit card, but Keaton knew that was all for show.
It was rare he denied his daughter anything she wanted, and everyone knew it.
He turned his attention back to Keaton as she wandered over to one of the vendors. “You’ve got that look.”
“What look?” Keaton asked, feigning ignorance.
“The look of a man who’s finally letting go,” Finn replied with a grin, nodding toward the swirl of activity around them. “Or maybe the look of a man who’s head over heels. I haven’t decided which yet, but there’s definitely a look.”
Keaton shrugged, not denying it. There was truth in Finn’s words that resonated deeper than he cared to admit, especially when his thoughts strayed to Jules. Their unpredictable nature, their vibrant spirit. They brought him to life in a way he hadn’t realized he needed.
The group meandered through the crowds, pausing at stalls that caught their interest. Keaton’s mom waved from a nearby installation, her attention split between a trio of sculptures and the mural being painted on the outside of a local gift shop nearby.
Her involvement in the community was something Keaton had always respected, but it wasn’t until recently that he started to understand the delicate balancing act she’d maintained, especially when he and Paige were younger.
As they continued along Main Street, to the heart of the Art Crawl, Keaton allowed himself to soak in the moment. The laughter of his friends, the innocent excitement of Eli and Brooklyn, and the ease with which the day unfolded made this year’s crawl more fun than any he’d attended in the past.
Of course, there was something to be said for the surge of pride he’d felt when he overheard a group talking about the mural on the bakery.
Jules’s mural. Where most of the artists had paid homage to the history of the community, Jules had taken a different approach.
They were looking straight ahead, their design filled with bold colors and a sense of energy that the others lacked.
“You’re in a good place,” Finn commented as they stopped to admire a particularly striking painting of some of the town’s influential women. “I haven’t seen you this relaxed in…ever, probably.”
Keaton glanced at his friend, a quiet gratitude settling in his chest. “It’s been a long time coming.”
Luke, never one to miss an opportunity for teasing, leaned in conspiratorially. “So, should we be expecting wedding bells soon, or?—”
“Keep dreaming,” Keaton replied, a playful warning in his tone.
But the idea wasn’t as far-fetched as his words suggested.
With Jules, he was discovering a new kind of comfort, one that didn’t require constant planning or control.
They were nowhere close to discussing spending forever together, but he could see things heading that direction, something he’d never experienced before.
Keaton slowed as he approached the exterior wall of Sweet & Simple, where Jules was deep in the throes of creation.
The mural was already a riot of colors, each stroke a testament to their unrestrained spirit.
Bright yellows melted into rich blues while vivid purples and greens danced together in harmonious chaos.
It somehow fit both the artist and the vibe of the bakery Luke’s sister owned.
A slight man wearing a tank top and a pair of overalls flitted around Jules like a hummingbird, offering brushes and stepping back with a smile whenever Jules paused to survey their work.
While they hadn’t met, Keaton was sure that was Jules’s friend, Ollie.
It was obvious the two of them had done this before, and Keaton once again thought about the opportunities Jules was missing right in front of their nose.
People would pay good money to have their art displayed, whether it was framed and hung or covering an entire wall.
Keaton stood a few paces back, enjoying just watching his person work.
He watched as Jules, a smudge of turquoise on their cheek, tilted their head with a critical eye before adding a swift, confident stroke to the wall.
It was like watching a conductor lead an orchestra, each movement precise yet passionate.
Jules’s energy was infectious, pulling him into their orbit whether he wanted to go or not.
Finn sidled up next to him, arms crossed and a knowing grin on his face. “Never took you for a fan of abstract art, Keaton,” he teased, nudging him with an elbow. “Thought your heart only beat for straight lines and symmetry.”
Keaton chuckled, a warmth blooming in his chest that had nothing to do with the spring sun. “Turns out, I just needed the right person to make me see what I was missing,” he replied, surprising himself with the sincerity in his voice.
Jules stepped back, hands on their hips, and caught sight of Keaton. Their face lit up with a smile that felt like sunlight breaking through clouds. They waved, paintbrush still in hand, splattering a few drops of bright yellow on the pavement.
Eli, perched on Noah’s shoulders, piped up with the unabashed honesty only children could muster. “This is the best picture yet! Can Jules paint Captain America on my wall?”
Sam appeared next to Jules, offering a cup of coffee and a soft pastry.
Jules accepted with a grateful nod. Keaton watched as Jules took a moment to enjoy the treat, a streak of yellow paint marring the flawless white of the cup.
It was perfectly imperfect, much like the mural—and much like Jules themself.
As the conversation continued around him, Keaton found himself caught in a rare moment of introspection, one that Jules’s art seemed to inspire.
The mural wasn’t just a collection of colors.
It reflected Jules’s essence, fearless and unyielding, paying tribute to the community while remaining unapologetically themself.
As much as he wanted to kiss his parnter, he didn’t want to do anything to disrupt their flow. They’d have tonight together, but that knowledge didn’t make it any easier to leave them to their work.
A while later, Keaton leaned against the bright-yellow food truck, his plate of tacos balanced precariously in one hand while the other shielded his eyes from the sun. Around him, the air buzzed with conversation and laughter, the Art Crawl’s festival atmosphere infectious and invigorating.
His mom joined him, her presence a comforting anchor amid the bustling scene. With a knowing smile, she remarked, “It’s nice to see you out in the daylight, enjoying yourself for once.”
Keaton chuckled, taking a bite of his taco. “I’ve been known to venture out of the office occasionally,” he replied, the dry humor in his tone not lost on her.
“Once in a blue moon, perhaps,” she teased, her gaze drifting over to where Jules stood, their brush poised with intent. “Jules is quite the artist, aren’t they?”
Keaton followed her gaze, a soft warmth spreading through him at the sight of Jules so immersed in their work.
“They’re amazing,” he said, the sincerity in his voice clear and unguarded.
“Their art has this way of bringing things to life. It’s like…
they see the world in colors the rest of us miss.
You should see some of the pieces they have just sitting in storage, collecting dust.”
She nodded, her eyes still on the mural. “And how are things going between you two?” she asked, her tone casual but her inquiry pointed. “You’re not going nuts having someone else in your space?”
Keaton hesitated, the impulse to keep things private warring with a burgeoning desire to share just how much Jules meant to him. “It’s…good,” he finally said, realizing it was the understatement of the year. “Really good.”
“Good enough that you’re willing to be dragged to events like this,” Luke quipped, a grin spreading across his face as he joined them with his own plate of food.
“You know, I used to think the only way you’d ever get a break was if we kidnapped you.
I bet you haven’t even thought about work once today. ”