Page 28 of Not Yet Yours

Chapter Sixteen

Harriet

Iwoke up early this morning feeling happy and motivated, so I had a quick shower, threw on my work clothes, and went to the bedroom I have converted into a studio and started working. I was planning on working on a commissioned piece, but I felt inspired to do something different. I began working on a new passion piece instead. I’ve been working on it for a few hours now and it’s starting to take real form in my mind now although it’s a long way from being finished in reality.

I’ve just finished a particularly tricky bit and gotten it right the first time and I’m feeling really proud of myself. I’m smiling already when my cell phone pings. I wipe my hands on a rag and take a look at it. My smile widened when I see that I have a text message from Liam.

I open the message and my smile gets even wider. It’s so wide now that my cheeks are starting to hurt.

Don’t forget you promised me I could see your sculptures

He’s right, I did promise him he could see them, and I am due a break. Should I be brave and tell him he can stop by now if he wants to? I’m sure it’s a good idea. I’m happy and will enjoy a visit from a friend right now, and if he says he can’t come now,it’s not like a rejection, it’ll just mean he’s busy at work, so it won’t kill my vibe. I type out a reply.

I haven’t forgotten. Come to my place now if you want to

I have barely set my cell phone back down when it pings again.

I’m on my way

A shiver of excitement goes through me, and I can feel goosebumps chasing each other across my skin at the thought of seeing Liam again. Not that I’m missing him or anything.

I spend the next ten minutes putting a pot of coffee on and then tidying up around my workshop. When I have it tidy, I go and give my hands a good wash and then I wait for Liam to arrive. I don’t have to wait too long before there’s a knock at my door. I rush down the stairs and I catch sight of myself in the mirror hanging at the bottom of them.

I have on a pair of black leggings with a hole in the knee and an oversized checkered shirt, both of which are splattered with paint from where I wear them when I’m decorating. They are also covered in little blobs of clay and glue and all kinds of craft-related stuff. My hair is thrown in a messy bun and bits are hanging out all over. And there is a swipe of clay across one of my cheeks, which I try to wipe off only to find it is dried on. Fuck.

The knock on my door comes again and I don’t have any choice but to go and open it the way I am. I pull it open and there’s Liam standing there in a perfectly tailored black suit with a pale green shirt and a darker green silk tie. He looks like the picture of well-dressed elegance, and I look like a fucking hot mess.

“Excuse the state of me,” I say.

“I was just thinking how cute you looked,” Liam grins as he comes inside.

“If by cute you mean homeless then I get it,” I say, and we both laugh.

“Seriously, I like this paint-splattered look. It’s very fetching,” Liam says.

I roll my eyes, but I don’t say anything else. I start up the stairs.

“Wow, how very forward of you, straight upstairs,” Liam says.

“Don’t go getting any ideas. My workspace is up here,” I say.

“Well damn,” Liam says with a grin.

I reach the top of the stairs and go to my makeshift studio. I open the door and Liam follows me inside. He glances about.

“Wow,” he says, going to the cabinet where I keep all of my smaller completed pieces. He peers inside and then looks across at me. “Did you really make all of these?” I nod. “They’re amazing.” I open my mouth to say they aren’t that good, but Liam gets in before me. “And don’t dare try to tell me they are anything less than that. You have a real talent for this Harriet.”

I blush and smile, accepting his compliment even though it is my nature to deflect anything nice anyone says about me.

He moves on from the cabinet to the display case of the larger pieces and again, he is very complimentary. As he’s examining the pieces, I pour us each a cup of coffee. I hand one to Liam and he thanks me and keeps looking at my work. I thought I would feel a bit strange showing him something so personal to me, but I don’t. In fact, his reaction is making me glad I let him see my stuff. He really does seem to like my pieces and I don’t get the impression he’s just saying it to be polite because he is spending ages examining each piece.

He moves to the next part of the room, which is a long bench with lots of started projects set out on it.

“So, what are these?” Liam asks.

“Some of them are pieces I’m currently working on, and some are things I started and wasn’t really feeling so I’ll wait until I’m inspired to work on them again,” I say. “And this onehere on its own is the piece I am currently working on. It’s barely more than a blob at the minute because I only started it this morning.”

“I can see it’s a long way from finished, but I think it’s fair to say that it’s a little bit better than a blob,” Liam laughs. He nods toward the last bench-style table in the room which is currently empty. “And what’s this one for?”