He got on his knees and cleaned me up. The rag was cool against my heated skin. I had never felt more cherished than when I was with Andrew. He knew how to treat me in bed and out. A rare quality ninety-nine percent of men didn’t have. The day he walked into The Roasted Bean was the luckiest day of my life. Helping me to my feet, Andrew held open a silk robe. I slipped my arms through the sleeves and tied the belt around my waist.

“Do you still want to see my art studio?” Andrew asked.

“Of course.”

We went upstairs to his office where he opened a door hidden in the ceiling. He pulled down a ladder and gestured for me to go first. I climbed the rickety steps. Andrew’s art studio was a converted greenhouse. The all glass structure offered an unobstructed view of the twinkling stars. His paintings, small and large, leaned against the walls while wood easels offered a glimpse into his works of progress.

I spun around in a circle. “This is incredible. It’s like something out of a movie.”

He stuck his hands in his pockets, looking like a proud father. “I know. I couldn’t believe my luck when the landlord said I could have it. Granted, it was pretty dilapidated at that time but it only needed a little love and care.”

“You did all the work yourself?”

“Of course. It just needed new plumbing, new floors and five quarts of window cleaner.”

My eyebrow quirked. “That’s all?”

Laughing good naturedly, he shrugged. “My dad taught me from a young age the importance of hard work.”

“Did he also teach you to be incredibly ADD?” Seeing his look of confusion, my thoughts tumbled out. “You bounce from one thing to another. Last year it was a pop up coffee shop and this year it’s painting.”

“I get bored easily and besides, what’s the fun in exploring one thing?”

“Yeah, but how do you afford to live like this?”

“A year ago, I was in law school and incredibly unhappy. Hating my life, unsure what to do about it, and hungry for adventure. My grandma passed away that fall and left me a large sum of money. She always told me to follow my own path so that’s what I did. I dropped out, traveled the world, and came back to Detroit with a fresh outlook.”

“So you can understand why I have to leave? To get that fresh outlook you’re talking about.”

“Of course,” Andrew said. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t miss you.”

My heart stuttered in my chest. “You will?”

Walking to where I stood, he cupped my face in his hands. His brown eyes churned with endearment. “You’re an idiot if you think otherwise. You are the best part of my day.”

He lightly brushed a kiss against my lips. Before Andrew, it would have been as easy as packing a bag and hitting the open road. Now though, everything had changed. The idea of leaving him made me physically ache. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself though, if I acted like my mother and rerouted my dreams for a guy.

Andrew smoothed the crease between my brows. “Stop thinking so much.”

“I can’t help it. My brain didn’t come with an off switch.”

“Meditation would work wonders for you. Do you want to learn?”

Hokey-pokey religion stuff was never my cup of tea. My mom briefly dated her yoga teacher and they would practice in the living room. While he was the nicest guy my mom was involved with, he never wore shoes, which was unfortunate because he had the nastiest feet. I’m talking toenails that curled. I shivered in repulsion.

“I’m good,” I said. “I like to bury my problems and emotions under a layer of doubt until they fester and explode in a crying jag.”

“That’s healthy,” he said sarcastically.

“That’s me. I’m all about a healthy mindset. How did you find meditation?”

“I googled it.”

I snorted, slapping him on the arm. “Real funny.”

Andrew’s lips tugged up at the corners. He walked over to a pile of pillows, sat down, and patted the cushion next to him. I had a gut feeling whatever story he was about to tell had to do with Camilla. My legs crossed as I positioned myself.

“The first stop on my adventure was in India,” Andrew began.

“What was it like?”

“Congested with levels of poverty that were unlike anything I had never seen before.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen photographs in National Geographic magazines. It is profoundly sad.”

The thought of the magazine I had spent years collecting was now a pile of ash made me want to throw up. All those images ruined.

Andrew fiddled with a woven leather bracelet on his wrist. “It is sad, but it also shows how resilient the human spirit is. Anyways, I was walking the streets of Mumbai when I heard this flute music coming from a nearby alleyway. It was—” he paused and shook his head. “It was unlike anything I had ever heard before. In search of the source, I stumbled upon a group of people meditating. They were sitting there on their mats, completely still. It was a slice of nirvana amongst the grime. The man who was playing the flute, opened one eye and nodded. I nodded back. While I wanted to stay, I felt as if I was intruding so I left. The next day I returned at the same time and the next. It became part of my routine.”

“So, you continued that routine when you got home?”

“Yeah, I meditate in the morning for twenty minutes. It helps my creative process.”

Since there wasn’t a creative bone in my body, I didn’t have a process. Actually that wasn’t true. I was really good at drawing stick figures and semi-decent at writing. However, neither of those things had morphed into a hobby. I’d thought about majoring in food science but my grades weren’t stellar enough to get into college. Plus, money.

Andrew didn’t fit Camilla into his story but that didn’t mean she wasn’t a part of it. “Is that where you met her? Camilla?” I asked casually.

“Yeah, I met her in India. She was part of the group who did meditation.”

The woman I saw on the Polaroid was transferred to a courtyard. Her eyes closed, flowing red hair tumbling down her back and a peaceful expression was written on her face. She was the opposite of me in every way.

“A continental hookup? How very Humphrey Bogart of you,” I joked to lighten the mood.

Andrew cracked a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “It should have stayed that way but when you meet somebody abroad, you forge this bond. Our relationship while slow to develop was like a virus. She infected me until I couldn’t think about anything but her.”

Jealousy flared. I wanted punch Camilla in the boobs and was unsure if I could stand to hear another word about her. However, I’d asked to know about their relationship. Andrew was simply complying with my wishes. Stupid curiosity.

“As a twenty-three-year-old, I thought that was normal.” Andrew looked up at the blanket of stars. “Consummation equaled love. Later I found out, consummation equaled them running away screaming because you stifled them.”

“I don’t think you know how to love any other way.” Andrew gave me the side eye. I held my hands in front of me. “That’s not a bad thing! I’m just saying you put your heart and soul into everything you do. Nothing is half assed. You put months of hard work into your art show and I’m guessing it was the same for the pop up coffee shop. I love that you are so passionate.”

“Thanks, and I love how cute you are when you’re trying to back peddle.”

“I’m not back peddling!” I cried. “It’s true.”

He rubbed my thigh, assuredly. “I’m just yanking your chain.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, my bottom lip pouted. “You’re mean.”

“I’m awesome.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Although he was joking, Andrew was awesome. His adoring fans were proof I wasn’t the only one who felt the same.

“You are ridiculous,” I countered. “So what happened next? You got consumed and then?”

Andrew sighed. “And then we traveled around Europe together. For the most part, it was amazing. Camilla was a yoga teacher by trade so she paid her half by teaching at different studios. At the end of the three months, I invited her to live with me in the United States. Problem was, she wasn’t a U.S. citizen.”