Torn

Chapter Thirty-Nine

I frowned.

This wasn't exactly what I was going for with this piece.

While I contemplated my first painting in months, hands wrapped around my waist.

I had to shake off the immediate flash of annoyance. I hated being disturbed while I was drawing or painting. It chased off my muse.

Still, I tried to swallow back the annoyance and I turned to face Dean.

There was a gentle smile on his lips despite the fact that I blew him off earlier and left without finishing him off. I thought we'd have an argument about that later.

But here he was. With a smile on his face, no less.

"Hey, sweetie. I was wondering if you were in a good place to stop for some dinner" he said.

I bit my lip, trying not to get frustrated with him.

Of course I wasn't in a good place to stop! If I were, I'd be downstairs, stuffing my face.

But he didn't know that.

I forced a smile and shook my head, feeling the itch at my fingertips to keep on painting.

"Sure. I'll be down in a minute" I told him. He hesitated, looking at the piece behind me and I didn't resist the urge to give him a light slap on the cheek for that.

I believed that it was bad luck to analyze something before it's over. My paintings were to remain unseen by everyone but myself.

He gave me a bit of a wounded look but backed off, keeping his eyes on mine.

I should really explain the rules to him one of these days.

"I'll be downstairs" he said, giving my cheek a little kiss and walking out the door.

Everything felt so forced. I felt like I was going through some motions.

We were supposed to be so deep in the honeymoon phase, we wouldn't know there was a world outside our little bubble.

But there was a bitterness inside me that was poisoning our time together. And bleeding out, as I discovered from looking at my painting. So dark.

Well, at least it's something. And my muse officially ran off.

I sighed, putting my brush back in the cup of muddy black water.

I was not going to be a pleasant person during dinner.

I started walking towards the kitchen where we ate most our meals, making sure to close the door to my art room behind me.

When I got there though, the boys weren't seated at our little island counter.

Were they seriously in our dining room? Why?

I walked down to the dining room, getting a bad feeling in my stomach. I wasn't in the mood for anything but stuffing my face in and perhaps getting lost in some Netflix.

But there were the boys, with a nice large spread of some of my favorite foods (which was due to Mason, I was sure, because Dean would have no way of knowing that stuff). I had skipped lunch so I was happy about that.

What I was not happy about was that there were candles and that on the table, along with some lavender in a vase.

My preferred flower.

Again, this must be Mason trying to suck up to me.

"We made all your favorites" Dean said nervously.