Chapter 114: Nathan's Passion

The rhythmic scrape of a palette knife against canvas filled Olivia's small studio. She was working in front of an enormous abstract, her brow furrowed in concentration as she layered on bold strokes of cerulean and crimson. Afternoon sunlight streamed through the skylight, enveloping her workspace in a warm glow. A sharp rap at the door jolted her out of her artistic trance. Olivia scowled as she turned to the clock. She wasn't expecting anyone, and few knew where to find her private sanctuary. "Coming," she called, wiping her paint-stained hands on her already colorful apron. She opened the door, and her heart leapt into her throat. Nathan stood there, his lips crooked into a half-smile, with a twinkle in his eye that she recognized all too well. "Surprise," he said in a low voice. Olivia blinked her eyes wide in surprise, while he blinked in dryness. "Nathan? What are you? How did you find me here?" He shrugged, his eyes going past her to regard the studio beyond. "I have my ways. May I come in?" She hesitated a moment before she moved out of the way to let him in. She caught the scent of sandalwood mixed with something else that was very much Nathan. He stimulated memories she had been trying hard not to recall. "Wow," Nathan breathed, taking a turn in a circle to take in the canvases that lined the walls. His eyes had set on the piece she had been working on. "That's new, right? It is. intense." Olivia nodded, moving to stand by his side. "Yeah, I've been playing around with something. Trying to capture emotion just from color and texture." Nathan eyed her with shining eyes. "It's awesome, Liv. That's what I always loved about your work—the way it isn't afraid to go deep and really feel, to express those feelings through your art." His words made her eyes flush. About her art, Mark was always supportive, but Nathan. really grasped it on a level few others managed. "Thanks," she breathed, suddenly acutely aware of how close they stood. "But Nathan, why are you here?" He ran a hand through his hair—a gesture she understood as being a sign of nerves. "I've been thinking about you. About us. About that conversation we had in the coffee shop." Olivia's heart raced. "Nathan, we agreed." "I know what we agreed," he interrupted softly, "but Liv, can you honestly tell me that you haven't thought about what we could be if we gave ourselves a real shot?" She turned away, moving to fidget with her paints. "It's not that simple." "Why?" Nathan pressured her with the urge, following her. "Olivia, look at me." Reluctantly, she met his gaze. The intensity she found there took her breath away. "We have something special," Nathan continued, his voice low and fervent. "What doesn't come along every day is a connection; actually, I've tried to ignore it and move on, but I can't. And I doubt you can, too." Before she could say anything, he swept his arm around at the paintings surrounding them. "Look at these. Look at the passion and the fire inside of them. That's us, Liv. That's who we could be together." Olivia almost clung to Nathan. "Nathan, I'm with Mark. He's been so good to me, especially lately with my treatments. "I know," Nathan said softly. "And I'm not trying to diminish that. But, Olivia, is 'good' enough? Don't you deserve to feel alive, to be with someone who challenges you and inspires you?" To add to it, Nathan reached out and gently took her hand in his, and a spark of electricity zipped through her, awakening the feelings she had been trying so hard to bury. "Remember that night at the gallery opening?" he asked, his thumb stroking small circles on her palm. "All our hours of gassing about our dreams, of all the beautiful things and places we would go and see—that world we'd build with our art?" Olivia remembered. It had been a magical night of dreams, filled with the spirit of possibility and shared passion, when she felt most alive—mostly herself—in years. "We could have that again." Nathan's voice had grown super quiet. "We could really build something amazing together, Liv. As artists, as partners. as everything." For a second, Olivia let herself conceive it: a life of passion and art, inciting one another to artistic heights first unimagined, traveling the world, putting experiences into works. It was exhilarating. She was edging closer to Nathan, almost unconsciously, as if drawn by some unseen magnetic force toward him. His free hand came up to cup her cheek, and she held her breath as, for one fleeting heartbeat, she actually thought he might kiss her. The hard trill of her phone cut through the spell. Olivia jerked back, reality crashing over her like a bucket of iced water. It was Mark's ringtone. Guilt swept her as she fumbled toward her phone. "I… I should get that," she muttered, not meeting Nathan's eyes. He nodded and stepped away. His stepping away took all his warmth with him, almost sucking it out of the room. "Of course. I should go anyway. I've given you a lot to think through." Feeling the panic rise, Olivia spoke out, "Nathan, wait—" as he looked towards the door. He paused, looking back at her with a soft smile. "It's all right, Liv. I know this really isn't such a snap decision to be living here. Take your time thinking about it. What you really want is what is truly going to make you happy. I'll be here when you're ready." Then, nothing more said, he was gone, leaving Olivia in the middle of her studio, her telephone still insistently in her hand. Olivia's mind reeled with conflicted emotion as she answered Mark's call. The steady comfort of Mark's voice on the other end of the line contrasted sharply with the lingering electricity of Nathan's presence. Her eyes rested on the dashing canvas in front of her. In that chaos and beauty, she could see the turmoil in her own features. Nathan had been right; there was passion in there, somewhere—intensity that thrilled and scared in the same measure. But as she half-listened to Mark's loving concern, guilt gnawed at her innards. How could she even conceive of throwing away the security and safety he provided? How could she rely on the wild, stormy connection she felt for Nathan? As the sun started to lower in the sky and shadows lengthened around her studio, Olivia felt herself more torn than ever. Now her two choices loomed large: the slow warmth of the steady versus the brilliant light of where potential takes form. Either way, she knew someone would be hurt. Including, possibly, herself.