A Day in a Life

Chapter Twenty-Three

Elijah

I ORDER A cherry limeade from the Snack Shack. There have to be at least two whole sliced limes in my large cup and lots of ice. It hits the spot on a blazing hot day.

I’ve moved over to the tables by the Snack Shack so I’m not taking up table space at the busy Bayside Eatery. My plan is to spend the afternoon perched in my favorite spot, the one where I can watch Saige’s every move. I slip on my sunglasses and prop up a book, pretending I’m engrossed. This time it’s the latest bestselling thriller, and I only have one book with me.

This is my cover while I’m on a sort of stakeout. If Ry were here, he’d laugh until he turned blue.

Mistake number one: I’m sure Saige is wondering why I’m spending all my time hanging out at the restaurant where she works when I could be out sightseeing.

Mistake number two: The person I’m observing knows I’m watching her.

Mistake number three: I just realized my book was upside down.

Mistake number four: I forgot sunscreen, and I’m about to resemble a lobster.

Great job, Elijah. That’s what you get for becoming involved with a suspect.

I’m losing more of my investigator chops every time I catch a glimpse of Saige. Like every time I see her, I get dumber.

I scoot my chair until I’m under the shade of the umbrella and settle down again.

I rest my head in my hands, feeling drowsy and content, the way the sun and sea often make me feel. Saige is right. Something about this place oozes bliss.

The next thing I know, a shadow blocks the sun from my face. I sit up as I realize I dozed off.

Mistake number five.

“Hey, I’m off.”

“It’s already six?” I say, disoriented.

“Yep. And unless you’d like to be a tomato’s twin, I think we’d better put something on that sunburn. C’mon, I have some aloe.”

The sun had shifted in the cloudless sky while I slept. I was once sitting in shade, but now I’m in the glaring sun.

I get to my feet and grab my cane. I appreciate that Saige doesn’t walk too fast for me to keep up. She maintains a slow pace, and I know she’s doing it for me.

“Are we going to your apartment?” I ask.

“Yes. Besides tending to your sunburn, I’d like to change before we go out.”

“Can I see your paintings?” I curse my overeager question.

She’s quiet for far too long.

“It’s okay if you’d rather not share them. It’s personal. I get it.” Criticism of a work of art can cut to the bone. She doesn’t know I already love her work.

“I’ll let you see them. When I lived in California, my work was starting to sell. I’ve actually never shown my new work to anyone, so it feels like a big deal.”

“I’m honored.”

I wish I could get her to smile. Two times has not been enough. A smile shows a person’s inner feelings. Is she sad on the inside? After hearing about one devastating day in her life, I can understand her sadness. It was a day with far-reaching effects.

My goal tonight is to put a smile on the face that’s haunting my dreams.

When we enter her apartment, I’m surprised by how clean it is. I mean, there’s not one single thing out of place. Not even a sweater hanging over a chair or a single utensil in the sink. It’s an older apartment, but she’s made it look like a model home.

It doesn’t look like anyone lives here. For some reason, it makes me sad.

Saige wanders into the bathroom, emerging with the aloe, thinking of me first. The unselfish act ingrains itself into my brain. My brain is impressed.

“Have a seat,” she says.

I sit at her dining room table. It seems safer than the couch because I think I know what’s about to happen. The couch is too comfortable and tempting.

“You know, I didn’t think you’d sunburn with that olive skin of yours. Anyway, um, would you like some help? It’s hard to get the back of your own neck, and…”

I was right. “I would love your help. Thank you.” I would love to feel her hands on me.

I can’t help but close my eyes as she begins to place the aloe on the back of my neck. Her touch is soft and gentle. She doesn’t stop there. She kneels in front of me and carefully places the cream on my arms from my wrist to the edge of my short-sleeved shirt. The strokes of her fingers on my skin send my pulse through the roof.

“Thank you, Saige. I love your touch.” One hand reaches out and cups her cheek. I didn’t mean to do it. It just happened.

She places her hand over mine. “Elijah, there’s something I need to say to you.”

“Okay.” I don’t need to fake the trepidation in my voice. It’s very real.

“Like I told you, I’m a married woman. I need to take care of the paperwork to make my divorce final, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m currently married. I’m not free to start a new relationship. Here’s the thing. My husband cheated on me. He doesn’t deserve my fidelity. But I’m not making this choice out of loyalty to him. I’m making this choice for me. I made a promise, and I’m not going to break it. I refuse to be like him, ignoring my vows. I don’t want to be that kind of person. So while I would love to be friends with you, that’s as far as it can go. That’s all I can give you. I’m not assuming you want anything more than that, I just want to be honest. I understand if you choose to leave.”

Saige releases my hand, and I reluctantly let go of her soft cheek. As I look into her eyes, I see a woman who’s so sincere it’s scary. The thought of her being the slightest bit deceitful is laughable.

It’s the moment when I know I’m falling for her. Heck, I fell in love with her the day I heard her heartbreaking story, the day I learned about the worst day of her life and how she turned to her family and her best friend for help—and they weren’t there for her. I wish I could’ve been there for her on that awful day. I wish I could’ve offered her comfort and a shoulder to cry on. I wish I could’ve tucked her into bed and pampered her.

That’s what she deserved.

That’s not what she got.

“Friends then. For now?” I offer. “Because I don’t want to leave.”

“Deal.” Saige blinks her eyes heavily. “Thank you. It won’t be forever. I need to make my divorce official.”

“There’s no hurry. I’m fine with moving slowly. I like the idea of becoming friends first. Don’t worry about it.” I don’t want her to contact Cole yet. I’m not ready for the repercussions. “Can I see your paintings now?” I ask with a huge smile.

“Promise you won’t laugh?” Her eyes narrow.

“I mean, if it’s stick figures playing ball, there are no guarantees.”

“No stick figures were harmed during the creating of my paintings.”

I can’t help but laugh heartily at that. I get nothing in return. Not even a small Mona Lisa smile.

Saige takes my hands and pulls me to my feet. “I’m not sure if you’re real or if I’m dreaming.”

“I’m real, and I’m utterly intrigued with the mysterious Saige Riley.”

“I’m not mysterious. I’m an open book.”

“And yet, there’s so much I want to know about you.”

“Read the book,” she says with sass. With that, she hands me my cane and says, “Follow me.”

Saige leads me to a corner spiral staircase that I didn’t even notice earlier. A one-track mind will be my downfall.

“Can you handle stairs?” Saige asks.

“Sure. As long as I hold onto the railing, I’ll be fine.” Thanks to my mornings at the gym.

Upstairs is a large room with a row of windows on every single wall. I imagine it would be a sunroom with extraordinary views under normal circumstances. But for Saige, it’s the perfect art studio.

I’m mesmerized as I begin to look around at all the paintings. She’s stuck to her shadow-and-light theme, but they’re no longer just black and white. She’s added color here and there to her creations. A lone colorful flower or vase. The yellow sun outside of a window. Turquoise shutters splintering light into a bedroom. Each and every picture is stunning as the eye searches for light amid the shadows. I study each one, then move on to the next. She has stacks of paintings completed, neatly placed in perfect little rows.

Finally I pause, studying her expectant expression. “These are stunning. Absolutely beautiful. You’re amazingly talented. You have enough for several gallery showings here.”

Of note, the paintings are all signed Saige Riley. She’s erased Sydni Greer from her life.

“Thank you,” she says in her soft voice. “I’m not ready to go public yet. But I will when the time is right.”

“What’s your inspiration?” I ask.

“I’ve always been fascinated with fractured light. I love the shadows created when light shines in through a window. As a kid, I used to stare at the shadows and light for hours, snap pictures of them so I wouldn’t forget them, and sometimes I’d curl up on the floor and take a nap inside them. I don’t know why, but I found them comforting. I think, over the years, I’ve come to realize that everyone is searching for light in their lives. My paintings lead the eyes toward the light. That’s the unspoken message of every piece. Seek light.”

“You’re impressing me. I’m not easily impressed.”

“I’m not easily impressive.”

I laugh. She can be witty when she wants to be.

“I don’t let very many people into my life. Please don’t break my heart.” Her eyes fill with tears, but none fall.

Guilt washes over me. I’ve wormed my way into her life for purposes unknown to her. When she finds out why I’m really here, our “friendship” will be over. I’ll lose her. That’s the only possible outcome, even if she’s as innocent as I hope…no, believe her to be.

I guess I’d better enjoy every minute I have with her. Every single one might be the last.