With Crayons and Love (Romantic Suspense) [COMPLETED]

Chapter 25 - Leather

Once out of the apartment I took the liberty of hailing a cab instead of taking my car. It would be a nice change from having to drive myself and being unable to gawk outside the windows appreciatively. The laziness of it was almost criminal.

I caught Stella looking outside her window in turn, watching the aquarium and the library pass by. One day soon I would take her to one of those places by Lake Michigan, or Navy Pier if she so liked.

"Be honest now," I began, gaining her attention. "Do you like Chicago or was Boston better?"

"I love Chicago," she brightened. "And Boston was fun, too. And South Carolina! Yeah, I loved it there a lot."

I smiled at her. "What's your favorite?"

It made me nervous to await her response. "Mmm," she murmured, considering her answer. "I don't know... I think- I think South Carolina because of the big beach and all the spaces to play!"

I grinned at her, not knowing exactly how I felt about her choice. "Knew you'd say that."

"And you?" She asked, turning the question on me in that innocent, curious way of hers.

"Well, I like all of them. I've lived in all three for some time, too. They're different places, yes, and best for some people. For me, I think it's about who would be with me wherever I went."

"So you'd pick Chicago?"

I cocked my head to the side. "Why do you think that?"

"Because our family is here. And Grant."

"Grant," I mouthed to myself, feeling his name on my lips. "Yes. I'd pick Chicago."

Stella just couldn't know that Grant was only here for as long as the place inspired him. Nothing was holding him to it, not like family held me. He could just as easily move back home, or keep traveling through the states when his landscapes called for a change of scenery; of people. And he could have another woman, prettier and stabler than me, with just one flash of that perfect grin. Of course I felt in my heart that we meant more to him than that. Hell, he had said so aloud to me that night when everything seemed to be caving in. But he was a man. An artist. A man of passion and beauty and adventure.

I couldn't afford to hope that maybe I held him here, not if I wanted to keep my heart in check. Because the very thought of losing him twisted my heart and scared the reasoning out of me.

We stepped out of the cab when we reached the BookCellar, a lovely bookstore with an adjoined café, and I took Stella by the hand to the children's section. She chose a classic, Where The Wild Things Are.

"Told you we'd get a new book soon," I winked, and led her to the café section as she giggled. We each chose a pastry of our liking, with an orange juice for Stella and a medium coffee for me, then we ate our snacks at a table by the shop windows.

"What are we doing next?" she asked, sipping from her straw.

"We'll go buy a few candles and decorations for the apartment at a store just down the street. You can get something you like for your room."

"Cool," she murmured, looking forward to the novelty. "What kind of stuff?"

"Lots of cool stuff." I widened my eyes for theatrics. "Antique mirrors and lamps. Candles. Trinkets and baubles. Oh, and frames and paintings. Pillows, rugs. We have to hunt and try to find something perfect."

"I'll help!" she took another bite of her muffin, swallowed, and put it down. "I'm full. I can't have another bite or I'll explode."

I laughed and sat back in my chair. "We can't have you exploding now, can we. I'll take the rest of the muffin and keep it in my purse for later. How's that?"