Chapter 38: I'll send flowers next time..

Kai woke to the gentle sensation of fingertips brushing the inside of her wrist.

Then warm lips on her temple.

Then a quiet voice—James—low and husky in her ear.

“You awake, little warrior?”

She didn’t answer right away, just turned her face toward his shoulder and let the sunlight spilling in through the tall windows warm her back. Her body felt loose, her skin still humming faintly from the night before. For the first time in weeks, her mind wasn’t racing. She could still feel the weight of his hands as he’d bathed her, dried her, and dressed her in the nightgown currently tangled around her thighs. She remembered how gently he’d pulled her close, and how fast she’d fallen asleep in his arms, wrapped in silk and safety.

“I’m awake,” she murmured eventually, stretching slightly as she opened her eyes.

James looked down at her like she was the sunrise itself. “Good. Come downstairs. Chef’s making breakfast.”

At the foot of the bed, he handed her a robe—soft, thick, and unmistakably his.

“No one else sees you in that nightgown but me,” he said simply, cinching the belt tightly around her waist as if the matter wasn’t open for discussion. “Unless you want to start a murder investigation before coffee.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled, letting herself be led downstairs. The scent of toasted bread, fruit, and something savoury already filled the beach house.

They ate on the patio at a little round table that caught the early sun, barefoot and still in that morning daze where everything felt softer than usual. Their private chef brought them a spread of fresh mango, avocado toast with lemon zest, softly scrambled eggs, and coffee so rich it tasted like silk.

“What do you want to do today?” James asked, watching her tear a piece of toast and pop it in her mouth.

Kai shook her head. “I don’t know… I kind of just want to stay here forever.”

He gave a half-grin, nudging her knee with his. “Tempting. But I’ve got something you might like. There’s a private abstract gallery and studio about twenty minutes from here. Guy I know owns it—he’s owed me a favour since forever.”

Her interest piqued immediately, her eyebrows lifting. “Art studio?”

“You’ve got that look in your eye every time we pass a mural,” he said, sipping his coffee. “Figured I’d see what happens when you’re let loose in one.”

By eleven, they were standing inside a minimalist space filled with color and soundless emotion. The gallery was quiet—only a few other visitors moved through the space—and every wall was alive. Swaths of color, textures layered with rawness and heat, pieces that demanded attention without explanation.

Kai drifted away from James almost immediately, caught in the rhythm of the room. She studied each piece with her head tilted, asking the artist about mediums, strokes, process. The man, in his forties with specks of paint on his arms and a tangle of curls pulled into a bun, warmed to her quickly.

“She’s a sponge,” he told James with a laugh. “Got questions like a real painter.”

When he offered her an hour in the studio out back, her eyes lit up so brightly it made James smile and watch her sprint away without thinking.

The studio smelled of turpentine and something faintly citrus—lemons maybe—and it was quiet but for the faint buzz of insects outside the open back doors.

Kai stood in front of the blank canvas longer than she meant to, brushes already in her hand. She could feel James watching, quiet and still somewhere behind her. But he didn’t interrupt.

She started with cobalt blue. Broad, unrestrained strokes across the canvas. Then came streaks of deep plum and earthy brown. She mixed shades as she moved—pale greens, hints of copper, a flare of gold leaf she pressed onto the surface with her thumb.

Her movements were fluid. Almost trance-like.

Her mind drifted as she worked—not away from the moment, but deeper into it. She thought about the way James had looked at her when she stood in the ocean. The way he’d bathed her like she was something precious. The way she hadn’t told him the full truth yet—about the fire investigation, the insurance report, the arson claim. About how the delays were worse than she let on. She hadn’t lied… she just hadn’t said it all.

And still… he brought her here. Held her. Took care of her like it was instinct.

As her fingers smeared a final swipe of gold into the center of the piece, she realized what she’d painted.

A burst of motion surrounded by chaos. Like a woman’s silhouette caught mid-turn in the eye of a storm, her edges smudged with wind and fire. But her center—her core—glowed. Rooted. Unshakable.

She stepped back finally, smudges of paint all over her arms, some even on her cheek. She hadn’t noticed until James came up behind her, slipping his hand gently around her waist.

“Jesus,” he murmured. “That came out of you?”

She nodded, heart still beating fast from the rush of creation.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, brushing a smudge from her jaw with his thumb.

She turned toward him. “I think I am.”

They left the studio just after four, Kai still buzzing from the creative high, and James proudly ignoring every one of her half-hearted protests about changing for dinner.

“You look perfect,” he told her firmly. “Paint and all.”

The little coastal restaurant was tucked into a cliffside overlooking the water, and their table gave them a full view of the waves. Dinner was grilled seafood and pasta with lemon cream, and their conversation stayed light. Kai laughed more easily than she had in weeks, telling stories from her high school art class and making James promise—on pain of death—that he’d never show up unannounced at her work like that again.

He only smiled. “I’ll just send flowers next time.”

By the time they got back to the house, the sky was a deep navy blue streaked with stars. James opened a bottle of wine, and they curled up on the couch in the soft glow of the living room, half-watching a movie neither of them would remember.

It wasn’t until the final credits rolled that the space between them shifted—settled deeper.

James turned to face her, eyes searching. And she knew. Whatever was coming next wouldn’t be small.