There was a sharp knock on the door that had Natalya jolting. Thankfully she’d just pulled the brush away from the painting to daub up some more cadmium red.
It wasn’t her mom’s knock, so she just called out, “Go away!” and returned to the painting that had absorbed her attention all morning.
Whoever it was rattled the doorknob, but Natalya had locked the door. She was back to working on Cal’s shirt before the footsteps tromped away. Too light to be Cal’s, but it didn’t matter. She wasn’t in the mood to see him either.
The painting had come together so fast. She’d considered moving Cal to the other side of the table so that she could see his face, but that felt too intimate, too personal. Though his face was hidden, he was the dominant figure in the foreground, commanding the canvas. Hi
