A broken marriage.
A new job.
She works as a Personal Assistant on the ForNoah Youtube channel.
Noah is on the autistic spectrum and she fixes things for him.
He's a shipwright and creates beautiful works of art.
She's a woman starting over who meet...
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One week later.
Moving men packed up the artwork. It was like an armor of ants lifting, then moving a sea as the beautiful painted panels were loaded up. In addition to the parts for the second sailboat and the design for the boats. The only thing left sitting in the driveway that's not on the truck is Noah's finished boat. And that boat will be gone as soon as the movers are ready.
A moving guy drives up. His pants sagging as he secures the boat rudder on the back of the third moving truck. A part of me mourns the impending loss of all the paintings. That night and the several nights after surrounded by the paintings of Noah's storm.
The moving guy slaps the rudder. It doesn't move on the truck. He grabs a clipboard from the back of the semi-truck. "Sign on the line please, Mrs. Tyson," I smile at him and sign. I'm not a Mrs. anymore. Plus, Tyson is my maiden name. It's one of those things you end up saying casual nine or ten times professionally in the nicest way possible. Everyone seems to always add Mrs. on to everything. How dare you not be married? Gasp, scandalous scarlet A on your forehead. Is this the 1640s? I have a feeling a brazen scarlet letter would be a lovely outfit.
"Tari is fine," the phone rings. He nods at me and walks away. A hand signal from him and two of the semi-trucks drive-in while he gets into the third.
I wave at him and yell, "thank you," while picking up the call.
"Hi, it's me, Zoey. I have Sharlotte Gold from the gallery on the line." She bursts with audible delight.
"Hello, nice to finally hear you Tari," the woman on the line's voice had that socialite tone. The kind of flying over the flyover states as quickly as possible to get to San Francisco or Manhattan tone. Not that she's not nice because over email she was nice and professional. It's just the fact that she really didn't want to be anywhere else, but San Francisco or Manhattan was always apparent in her emails. Instead, she was showing Noah's art exhibition in Sacramento and that was a fresh experience for her. But, as she told me many times in emails, she wanted Noah's work. It was a coup to get a full showing. He's grown in popularity over the years and getting the reclusive artist to do his first full showing was worth it. She told me in an email on more than one occasion getting O street closed to do his full show was an absolute coup. An art show that will sprawl out into the streets of the capital city that will be talked about for years to come. She had people flying in from all over the country to make it a press event. Sleepy Sacramento didn't know what was coming at it.
"Nice to finally meet you too, Sharlotte," I replied to her.
"No, no, please, first call me Shar," she says
"Ok, Shar," I tried not to trip on the name and move smoothly to get her the rest of the info. "The trucks should be there in two to three days. The boat truck was in route."
"Oh, wonderful." I could almost hear the stars in her eyes through the upbeat tone of her voice. "I got the manifest and I'm ready for the artwork." She gives a quick goodbye to both Zoey and me.
"She sounded thrilled," says Zoey. " How good is his recent work?"
"It's a large piece, and it's powerful." So powerful I dropped my panties. Well, more for the man than the painting, but still emotionally vulnerable and moving, to say the least. I keep my mouth locked, not saying that out loud and thinking it way too hard. Zoey went over her schedule over the phone. The dates and the songs she wanted me to do lyrical videos for. My eye wanders around the property and, like clockwork, Noah's morning shirtless workout. His after-work run followed by weight lifting. My favorite part of the day. Noah temptation and addiction, sandy locks up in a topknot, and shirtless. A trail of sweat trickles down his chest, into the waistband of his running shorts. His happy trail greeted the wetness cheerfully. My eyes flick up. I'm caught. Noah's ocean eyes in straight, full eye contact with me. The pure sexual confidence oozes off him. Hey there, Neptune.
"So, how are you and Noah doing?" Zoey inquires in a bubbly voice. Took a week off work and I had a week-long fuckfest with your brother where I deflowered him together on every surface in the workshop. In that one second, I felt my hand stuck in the cookie jar.
"It's going well, working together as a team," I answer, with guilt rolling off me. I don't know if it's right or wrong to hide my current entanglement that doesn't seem to be a one-night stand. Noah moves to the shower. Washing off his sweat-soaked body under the outdoor shower.
"How are the kids," Zoey asks?
"Well, I'm picking them up later today after shopping. They were at their dads'." She goes on with the more small talk. I walk to the backdoor of my bedroom. Then head up the deck stairs and into the house while we chat. Through the back door and walk into the guest bedroom. Walk out the front door of my bedroom, down the hall to her office, and drop the paperwork off. Then head back out the same doors I came like a fly to Noah's, honey. Zoey ends the call on a pressing moment that I didn't want to think about.
"I hope you will sign on for next year to work with Noah, and all of us again." She says with a smile in her voice. A part of me is tugged toward telling her everything and saying I want more Noah. I want to stay here for the rest of my life. The reality is Noah and I are fucking. We have made no promises. We fucked so much at one point I was just rolling over and letting him hit it like jello. We had zero sanity in this week of sex. We were like teenagers, all fucks no brains. Tari, do not try to be all happy home and do more than what is here. It is what it is.
I made a non-committal sound on the phone. "I'll think about it. It's certainly on my options list." The best thing I can do to make a decision is to take Noah out of the equation. Zoey says her goodbyes with the voices singing, the background rising on her end.
Like "The TellTale Heart" my gaze goes back to the outdoor shower. Noah half-naked, toweling off. Moan at that view and walk away. Work. Work..! Get in the car, head to Costco, meet the girls. I repeat the mantra to get me away from more time with Noah.
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A/n This is a three-parter. I am going to try and post in 5 days instead of 7 days. I also have a 2 parter coming up. The brownie and ice cream kinda 2 parters. That means back to back posts. Thank you for all the support. Yall make this novel fun to edit. I hate editing. As always remember there's a fairie looking to get hers out there and only you can give her that O by sharing, stars, and recommending this novel lol.
