The Artist's Wife (BWWM)

Chapter 26~ Be

This chapter contains extreme self-harm, if such affects you, please skip💙💙💙💙💙

Listen to 'Chandelier' by Sia

The end of the world came on a Tuesday evening.

Actually, let me rephrase that, the end of my world came on a windy, Tuesday evening. I had my lunch break with JT and we had gone back to his workshop to do some more work on the sculpture. The blind man had started carving me out of wood after we had completed the rough work on clay.

Sometimes, being around Gerard and JT made me feel untalented. They were both so overwhelming.

I was currently leading JT to my office to retrieve some files I had forgotten before we headed back to the penthouse for movie night(don't question me it was his idea, I wanted to do something that didn't require vision). His huge arm was draped over my shoulder, the other hand holding the walking stick.

"Dude, you know you could have waited for me in the car," I told him, trying to sound annoyed. I really couldn't actually get mad at him, I liked him that much. He was dressed casually in a black, muscle tee and jeans with his usual shades hiding his chocolate orbs.

"I could have," he began, squeezing my shoulder warmly, a little smile playing on his slightly chapped, pink lips. "But where's the fun in that?"

"This." I gestured between us even though I knew he couldn't see it but I suspected that he probably knew what I was trying to do. "Stopped being fun when you tried to jab me in the eye with that carving knife."

"How was I supposed to know you'd be dumb enough to jump on my back when I was working with a freaking knife?"

"It was one of those, it seemed like a good idea at the time moments, " I defended, waving at my secretary, Dora as we walked past her. He chuckled softly, reaching over to ruffle my hair and murmur a few words in Italian.

My relationship with JT was straightforward with no complications while with Gerard, it felt dangerous and intriguing, kind of like being consumed by flames, the good kind of flames. I sighed, remembering that he had travelled yet again this morning and I had no inkling of when he would be back from England. He had mentioned going to see his aunt and working for some Duchess.

"Sit here and wait for me." I helped him onto the couch and stood there just to admire his looks. Sometimes, I could pick who was more breathtaking between them, but Gerard definitely had a better shot at winning with those heart-tugging dimples etched onto his cheeks but that was just my opinion.

"Bella," he sighed, clasping his fingers. Sometimes, he called me that and I assumed it was because it meant beautiful in Italian. "I'm blind, not five. Stumbling around your office does not sound particularly pleasing."

The strange part was that I loved the nickname, especially the way he pronounced it with his accent.

"You weren't saying that when you wanted me to buy you ice cream thirty minutes ago." I was searching my desk for the files I placed there earlier today and almost slapped myself when I remembered that I had told Dora to take it to my father-in-law's table.

"I'm not the same person I was then, babe."

"Right." I frowned, without looking at him. "I'm coming, JT, the file is not here," I informed, bending down to retie the laces of my Converse.