“Your parents were together for twenty-five years,” Hilda argued.
“And never married,” Kat added. For whatever reason, they’d never felt it was important to do so. She got the feeling they’d actually avoided it deliberately because of the stickiness of comingling their artistic property and intellectual rights. It was such a silly reason in her eyes.
“So what? It’s not the 1950s anymore. Most of those Karwashians aren’t married and they’re having kids left and right.”
“It’s Kardashian,” Kat corrected, wishing she didn’t know enough about them to notice Hilda mangling their name. “And some of them are married. But it’s not the point.”
“Then tell me what is the point, honey.”
“I want my child to have a family.”
“You hardly know this guy.”
“Maybe it’s better I don’t. Maybe we should just jump in with both feet and see what happens. It’s possible we only stay married a year. Or we barely make it past the baby’s birthday before we call it quits. I can’t tell you how it will end up. But I can’t help but think it’s the right thing to do for my baby.”
“I’m not sure the Steele family is going to be as receptive as you’re wanting them to be. They have more money than the state of South Carolina. Even if Finn agrees to marry you, there’s going to be lawyers involved at every step. Prenuptial agreements. Custody arrangements. It’s not going to be the least bit romantic.”
“I don’t care about romance and I don’t care about the money. I have enough of that. I only want my baby to have what’s his or hers. I don’t need anything other than a father for my child. I want better for my baby than I had.”
“Okay.” Hilda gave a heavy sigh. “If you’re determined, then I wish you the best of luck marrying into that family. As for me,” she said, pushing up from the low futon with a groan, “I’ve got to get some work done. The clock is ticking on our time here and it’s going to be a nightmare hauling all my scrap metal away.”
Kat looked around her own studio, feeling guilty that she could afford to stay when others couldn’t. She’d still have to pack up and move out for a few months while they renovated, but she could come back. “You’re not moving out for good, Hilda. I promise. No matter what happened between Finn and myself, I still intend to pin down that jerk Sawyer Steele, and get him to change his mind about the District. Of course, now he probably thinks I’m just some gold-digging slut and won’t take me seriously.”
Hilda’s gaze shifted over Kat’s shoulder as her eyes widened behind her thick black glasses. She bit at her lip and gently shook her head.
Kat realized she was standing with her back to the entrance of her studio. “He’s right behind me, isn’t he?”
Hilda nodded and Kat groaned aloud.
“I might be a jerk, but if it’s any consolation,” a man’s voice said from over her shoulder, “I don’t think you’re just a gold-digging slut.”
Three
Kat turned slowly to look at him and he couldn’t wipe the smug grin from his face. Sawyer’s timing couldn’t have been better if he’d tried. He’d caught her in the middle of a tirade about him, and that was fine, because he had a few choice words for her, too.
Most of those words dissipated from his mind when she was facing him. He thought she had looked beautiful at the wedding, but it didn’t hold a candle to how she looked today. Her copper hair was twisted into a messy bun, with two pencils holding it in place and sawdust, like glitter, sprinkled over the top. Her face was devoid of makeup, unless you could count the smear of white paint on her cheek and a splatter of yellow paint dots across her forehead. She was wearing a tank top and a pair of denim cutoff shorts that fell at the perfect length to highlight her firm, smooth thighs.
He expected her to say something, but she stood motionless, obviously in shock at his timely appearance. Before he could say anything else, the older woman standing nearby opted to excuse herself.
“I’ll let you two talk. I’ve got a piece to finish and five years of crap to pack up.” She looked pointedly at Sawyer as she went by.
He was used to that by now. He was the big, bad real estate developer out to destroy all they held dear. At least, that was what most of the voice mail and phone messages seemed to say. Sawyer wished he could convince them that he was trying to help, but they would never see it from his point of view. They either didn’t know or didn’t care that the building was crumbling around them. The electrical was old and not up to code. The plumbing was putting out rust-colored water and the pressure was almost useless. The freight elevator barely passed inspection. Before long, the District was going to be condemned and they would all lose their precious studio community.
Sawyer intended to fix things. Making those fixes required a few big concessions on the tenants’ parts: one, that they move out temporarily for the work to be done, and two, that their rent increase to cover the costs. When it was all said and done, he wasn’t renovating this place out of the goodness of his heart. He was a businessman. He saw the potential of the District. With some improvements, it could be not only a studio community, but a place where people wanted to come. Customers. Those people would spend money.
It was a win-win in his eyes. He wished he wasn’t the only one who saw that his plan was necessary to save the institution as a whole. Yes, some people might not be able to afford the rent at the new location, even with increased sales. But he’d learned a long time ago that he couldn’t make everyone happy, so he’d stopped trying.
He watched the older woman leave, then turned back to where Kat was standing, red-faced, in front of him. “You know, when we first met, your name sounded familiar, but I didn’t connect the dots. It wasn’t until I looked at your business card.” He fished it from his pocket and held it up. “Then all the pieces came together.”
“What are you doing here, Sawyer?” She wiped self-consciously at her face, but the paint stayed stubbornly in place. “Have your lawyers put together some payoff package to make me go away?”
Sawyer smiled and turned toward the collection of works in progress she had scattered around her studio space. “I’m not sure what the lawyers have in mind. Or if anyone has told them yet. I told Finn he had to deal with all that.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and strolled over to admire an intricate carving of an owl on a nearby table. It was the size of a large watermelon, with big, lifelike eyes and feathers etched so delicately it seemed he could reach out and they would feel real. She was a very talented artist.
“So you’ve told Finn?”
He pulled away from the owl and turned to see Kat biting anxiously at her lower lip. He wanted to run his thumb across that same lip to protect it from her abuses. Instead, he kept his hands deep in his trouser pockets where they belonged. “The minute you left. I couldn’t wake him up fast enough with the good news.”
“He hasn’t reached out to me.”