The Artist's Wife (BWWM)

Chapter 23~ With

Getting back to the penthouse, I felt this eerily familiar feeling of loneliness which although I didn't want to admit, I knew it was because he wasn't around. I had gotten used to his strange and quiet company.

Gerard had been on a rich client's job in Italy for a week now and I've had no company except for our old housekeeper, Hilda that sometimes came around during the evenings. I didn't know why I missed him since we hardly ever talked that much, or even saw each other but I did.

I missed the silence if that made sense to you.

I ate canned tomato soup and watched mindless TV until I felt my lids start to gain weight. I got up, yawned and went to Gerard's room like I had been doing every day since he left. I carefully stripped off my clothes, stepped into his bathroom and took a long shower, taking extra care to overuse his sweet-smelling soap and changed into one of his tees that I nicked off his closet the other day. I had been wearing it to bed for the past few days now.

I didn't know when he was going to be back but hopefully, by then I would have gotten rid of this strange, newly acquired ritual of mine. I didn't think he would be too pleased to find out I had converted his bedroom to mine.

I braided the tip of my damp, black hair and crawled up to his bed. I gave a contented sigh when my head hit the pillow and a lazy grin slowly formed on my face. My eyes slowly scanned the images he had painted on the walls for what felt like the millionth time and I felt myself sinking into sleep.

I drifted off a few minutes later.

When I woke up, I made two observations; firstly, I had a feeling that I wasn't alone anymore and second, I didn't remember pulling the covers over myself and I was most definitely under them now. I opened my eyes slowly and peeked through my lashes, not the least bit surprised but nevertheless, my heart skipped a beat when they met the ocean of jade green gems.

Busted.

He was lying down beside me, a reasonable distance between us, wearing shorts and a black tee identical to the one I had on and his dark brown hair was adorably tousled up. He stared at me and I stared back for what could have been years for all I cared before I broke the silence.

"Hi," I whispered, inching closer to him. I really didn't like the way he kept his distance from me. I inched closer, hoping he wouldn't go away completely and inched even further when I saw he didn't. We were now apart by a hairbreadth.

"Hey." He equally whispered, his minty fresh breath fanning my face. I placed my head back on the pillow and he followed suit, so we now stared at each other in comfortable silence, neither moving.

"You put me under the covers?" He was staying on top of the covers, I felt like he intentionally didn't get under them with me.

"Yeah. You looked like you were cold in only that shirt." He frowned slightly. "Is it mine?  It looks like one of mine."

"Yeah," I admitted sheepishly, it was actually wrong of me to take his stuff without permission like that but he smelt so nice. "I'm sorry, I could return it in the morning if you want, but I'll leave it out for a wash first."

"Karina," he muttered, dryly. "Feel free to take anything you want that's mine, I honestly don't mind."

"Oh oh. Thank you then."

He just gave a ghost of a smile and a small sigh in reply.

"When did you get back?" I wondered aloud, noticing it was still dark out. "You said you would spend at least two weeks."

"About two hours ago," he sighed. "I finished earlier over there than I thought I would, so I decided to come home."

"And you've been watching me sleep," I accused, longing to reach for his silky hair and play with it. I wasn't sure if he would mind or not, with Gerard one had to apply a lot of caution.

"To be honest, it was quite entertaining watching you snore." He said with a poker face. I gasped and clamped a hand to my mouth, I was aware of the fact that I tended to snore at times especially whenever I was tired.

Lance made sure I was constantly reminded of that.

"How was Italy?" I was trying to change the topic from my snoring problem. It was like we were forming a tradition with these nighttime talks. I liked it though, I liked it a lot.

"You're trying to change the topic," he said quietly, the only evidence of his amusement being the dancing in his eyes and indent of the dimple on his left cheek. That dimple was so cute, it basically added to his overall cuteness.

"Maybe I am," I mused, giving into temptation and reaching up to touch his hair. He shut his eyes as if praying and I could hear his breath quicken, he didn't pull away like I thought he would. That was good. "So did you meet any cute Italian girls?" I teased.

"Yes." He still had his eyes closed, I wasn't sure if he was enjoying the sensation of me touching him but his eyes were shut tight. "Lots and lots of them, they kept wanting to tear my shirts and follow me home," he told me, obviously playing along with me.

"Well, did you tell them you were married?" I whispered. "And that your wife is skilled in the art of tattooing with broken glass items."

His eyes flitted open and he broke into deep laughter at that. "No, I just said she was a very beautiful lady." This time, I wasn't sure if we were still playing or he was saying the truth.

He closed his eyes again, I had a feeling he was going to fall asleep if I kept up with playing with his hair. "Did you miss me, Gerard?"

He opened his eyes, this time stifling a yawn and the curves of his lips lifted in a smirk which I could bet a million bucks was mirrored on my face too.

"Would my answer really make any difference?"

I reached for his hand and laced it with mine then repeated my question slowly and deliberately. I wanted to know.

His reply took a few seconds longer than it was supposed to and I could imagine him having a mental debate with himself.

"Yes." He admitted. "Very much."

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Short chapter, I know.