Chapter 6: A Glimpse of Vulnerability
Reg's eyes narrowed as he stared at the canvas in front of him. He was trying to paint, to express the emotions that had been bottled up inside him for so long. But the brushstrokes were clumsy, the colours dull.
Emma walked into the room, a gentle smile on her face. "How's it going, Reg?" she asked, her eyes scanning the canvas.
Reg sighed, frustration etched on his face. "It's not going," he muttered. "I'm just not good enough."
Emma's smile never wavered. "Oh, Reg," she said, her voice soft. "You're being too hard on yourself. Art is about expression, not perfection."
Reg raised an eyebrow, surprised by Emma's insight. "You know about art?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.
Emma nodded. "I used to paint, too. Before... well, before life got in the way."
Reg's eyes locked onto Emma's, and for a moment, they just stared at each other. Reg felt a jolt of connection, a sense that Emma understood him in a way that no one else did.
Without thinking, Reg reached out and took Emma's hand. "Show me," he said, his voice low, husky. "Show me what you used to paint."
Emma's eyes sparkled, and she nodded. "Okay," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Together, they walked to the attic, where Emma had stored her old art supplies. As they rummaged through the trunks, Reg caught glimpses of Emma's vulnerable side. He saw the way her eyes lit up when she talked about art, the way her face softened when she smiled.
And Reg felt his own mask of arrogance slip, just a little. He felt a deep connection to Emma, one that went beyond mere attraction. He felt like he could be himself around her, like he didn't have to pretend to be someone he wasn't.
As they sat amidst the dusty trunks, surrounded by canvases and paint-splattered easels, Reg knew that he was in trouble. He was falling for Emma, hard. And he had no idea how to stop it.