On Saturday morning, I was trembling with anticipation even before David arrived to pick up Michael. Though he usually picked Michael up on Friday evening, he called to say he'd missed his flight back to L.A.. But I was too excited about having my own studio to worry about it. So Michael and I spent a nice evening together watching his favorite Thomas and Friends movie. In the morning, we enjoyed breakfast in the backyard till David arrived.

Once they were gone, I packed the trunk of my car with enough supplies - canvasses, brushes, tubes of acrylic paints and primer. Just enough to get me started. I could always bring more on Sunday morning.

When I burst out crying in front of Erik, I thought I was going to die from embarrassment. The outburst took him - and even poor Miles hammering against the door frame - by surprise. But they were tears of gratitude, happiness, and mostly shock at how real this all was, with me holding the keys to my own studio.

I had to run into the bathroom to collect myself, wash my face and quickly gather Michael and head home. I was grateful that Erik didn't say anything about it, only smile his usual smile, his eyes telling me it was alright. I never realized how much David's betrayal had affected me till that moment.

The first weekend at my studio was spent doing nothing. I stared at a blank canvas for what felt like hours, though it was really only ten minutes. Soon I was outside, laying out on the sand and working on my tan. How could anyone paint on a gorgeous day like this?

I then made myself a cup of coffee and enjoyed the sunset from my private deck without painting a single line. I'd have had better luck had Erik given me the garage instead.

By the second week, I had to force myself to draw the blinds closed, hoping the muse would finally grace me with an idea. But the only thing to grace me so far was another day to work on my tan although I did sketch while I was outside.

In the afternoon, just before the sun set, I laced up my running shoes and ran all the way up to El Segundo and back down to the studio. Still I was actually pleased with myself. At least I sketched something.

On Sunday, I forced myself to stay inside and stare at a blank canvas if I had to. It was then that I decided to paint Erik's house, complete with the drought-resistant plants along the walk street. I set myself up on a bench just outside Erik's house and began to sketch. By afternoon, I dragged myself inside the studio and began to paint in earnest. It was about time I earned my keep anyway.

If Erik had been home those two weeks, I never knew. The only hint of any activity inside the house was the sound of the automatic lights going on at dusk. Twice I heard someone moving just outside the door, but it turned out to be the golden retrievers that I always heard barking by Olivia's house. Their names, according to their tags, were Thelma and Louise. I figured that Erik either returned home late, long after I left the studio, or he was out of town.

By the third Saturday, Olivia peeked in and invited me to dinner at her house that evening. Consuelo would be watching Bella for the evening, she said, and she would love for me to meet Julie, one of her close friends.

"I would have stopped by sooner, but I didn't want to interrupt your artistic process," she said, leaning against the door and trying so hard not to study the canvasses around the room in various stages of my "process."

"It just feels weird knowing that you're right next door and we haven't even said hello these past three weeks," she added. "I just like being able to share a meal with you and welcome you to the family. I guess it comes from living in Italy. Sebastian and I always had company."

"Of course it's okay," I said, laughing. "You can come in anytime. My 'process' isn't exactly that complicated. I just really slap paints on and hope they all work out somehow."

"Oh, good," she said, grinning. "I feel like a vampire or something, waiting for you to invite me in. But with Erik gone and you in there, I didn't think it was a good idea to just barge in."

"The dogs have no problems barging in on me though," I chuckled. "They seem to have the run of the place - not that I'm complaining."

"Oh, them," Olivia said. "Thelma and Louise are actually ours, Erik's and myself. I was going to buy just one dog when I got here, but Erik said it would be unfair for the poor girl to have no other dog to play with. So when we went to the shelter, we were lucky to find siblings that someone gave up. After that, we were both co-owners-"

"You mean, like, co-parents?" I asked and she nodded.

"Yup. I take the dogs on the Strand with me in the morning and at night, Erik lets them run out on the sand." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "It's not allowed but most of us who live here do it anyway."

"If I'm here when you're in the mood to walk or something, just knock," I said. "I'm sure even the greatest artists took breaks now and then."

Olivia grinned. "I'd love that," she said. "Sometimes my old friends do come over and hang out, but sometimes I think they feel sorry for me being a widow and a single mom. Thank God I've got other friends who don't worry about crap like that."

As if on cue, the doorbell rang and Julie Conlon, Olivia's friend from college, walked in carrying a bottle of wine. She lived a few houses away and tonight was her night. After spending all day with her little boy, it was her husband's turn to babysit.

"It's girls' night, right?" She asked Olivia as soon as we shook hands. "I'm dying for a few glasses of that wine you brought back from Tuscany, Liv. But I did bring some red from Temecula."

Like Olivia, Julie was friendly and outgoing. And while she enjoyed a few glasses of the Tuscan wine, Olivia had only one, while I had none. I had to drive home and the last thing I needed was to get pulled over, even if I only lived four miles away.

Olivia had prepared dinner ahead of time, which meant all we had to do was sit down and eat. The main dish was orechiette with ricotta and chard pan sauce, and it was delicious. There was salad and something else but I could not remember what it was. I only remembered how good it tasted.

Sitting with Olivia and Julie reminded me of dinners with Rosie and Celeste, a mutual friend who had moved up to San Francisco shortly after Rosie died. It had been awhile since I'd spent an enjoyable evening like this, my cheeks aching from too much time laughing.

"So you're the painter that Erik built a studio for," Julie said. "That's awesome!"

"It is awesome," I said. "I'm still pinching myself."

"I wish someone would paint me," Olivia said. "Josh once made a pencil drawing of me but it looked like he channeled Picasso. I still have it somewhere."

"At least he tried," Julie laughed.

"I'd love to paint you and Bella," I said, before turning to Julie. "You, too. You can bring your son and sit for me."

Julie blushed. "Well, Olivia first. And then you can let me know when you want me to sit for you." She turned to Olivia. "So how are Erik and Serena doing?"

Olivia shrugged. "They're not doing, that's for sure. No matter what you may have heard."

"That's too bad," Julie said, shaking her head before smiling. "Well, actually, not really."

"I noticed he hasn't been home the last two weekends," I said.

"He's been filling in for one of his doctors. Which means he's slammed with patients till about six and then he has to say behind to do the paperwork. Which I hate, by the way, because the clinic isn't exactly located in the best part of town," Olivia replied. She frowned. "Has he ever dropped by at the studio at all?"

"Nope. Not a peep," I replied. "But I don't want to bother him. Weekends aren't exactly the best time to be in someone's house, especially if he's seeing someone. It would be a drag to have me hanging around."

"Well, if I were you, I wouldn't hide, honey," Julie laughed. "He is available."

"Julie dated him for a few weeks," Olivia said, lowering her voice playfully.

"Just don't tell Jim," Julie laughed. "He's still pissed that he didn't know about that till the wedding."

"Why would he be angry?" I asked, feeling like I was missing something.

Julie laughed. "It's really just something we tease Erik about. But we didn't date that long. It was back in college, but he dumped me for some girl with this pixie hair cut."

"Chelsea!" Olivia blurted out, pointing her finger at Julie as she remembered. "She had this wild child vibe going on and she was what you'd call the walking wounded."

"Why the walking wounded?" I asked. I'd never gone to college and so it was interesting to watch their body language as they spoke. Clearly they had a great time, I thought.

"She did these extreme sports," Julie replied. "Parasailing, rock-climbing. You name it, she did it. But she'd come back to classes with all these bruises, and before you know it, Erik dumped me and began hanging out with her. Pretty soon they were both the walking wounded."

"Mom and dad were not happy about that, I tell you," Olivia said, chuckling, before turning serious. "I wonder what happened to her. She disappeared after college and no one's heard from her since."

"Did Erik keep in touch with her?"

Olivia thought for a moment, then shook her head. "I don't know. He went off for a year after college and hasn't mentioned her name at all. So maybe she's happily married somewhere."

"How long has he been practicing medicine now?" Julie asked, taking a sip of wine. Her third one, if I remember correctly.

"About six years now," Olivia replied. "If I count his residency at UNM."

"He must love what he does," I said.

"He does," Olivia replied. She and Julie looked at me. "So, what do you think of Erik, Sam?"

"Actually, I...I don't," I stammered, getting up to collect the dishes. "Anyway, I should get going. It's already ten."

"Oh, my God," Julie exclaimed, finishing her wine and standing up. "I told Jim I'd be back by nine!"

We helped Olivia clear the table and rinse the dishes, and soon, I was running back towards Erik's house. This time, I didn't enter the house through the garden that Erik and Olivia shared. Instead, I made a loop around the house, walking on the Strand in front of the glass windows. From the Strand, I noticed that the big screen TV was on, but didn't turn my head to see if Erik had company. It was none of my business.

I could hear the sound of the TV blaring through the hallway as I slipped through my separate door and gathered my things as quietly as I could. I'd parked a few blocks away where it was free to park, and it was already almost eleven.

Just as I was about to leave through the separate door leading to the walk street, I heard the doorbell ring and the TV volume being turned down. I heard the woman's voice first and though I couldn't make out the words, it didn't take much for me to tell that she was angry.

"What are you doing here?" Erik asked. He didn't seem pleased either.

"Is it true you've got someone living with you?" A woman's voice asked. "Is this your new girl? How could you do this to me, Erik? After everything we've been through."

"What I do with my life is my own business, Rena, not yours," he was saying as I pulled the door open a crack. "I don't know how else I can make this any clearer to you. We are over-"

"What do you mean, any clearer?" The woman interrupted. "Well, you're the king of communication, Erik. If silent treatment ever became a form of accepted communication, you'd excel at it. You barely return my phone calls-"

"The only reason I stop talking to you is because you refuse to listen to what I have to say. I thought I was clear enough about us when I left for Italy eight months ago," Erik said, his voice low. "And if you think you can go around scaring anyone new in my life, think again. I won't stand for it-"

I shut the door as quietly as I could, not wanting to hear any more. It felt strange to hear the edge in Erik's voice, the playful Irish lilt now gone. I could hear Serena speaking, muffled now through the door as I gathered the rest of my things as quickly as I could. I had had enough personal experience with angry confrontations of my own, and I wasn't about to hang out and watch one unfold, even if it didn't involve me.

Then I heard a woman sobbing. She was calling out Erik's name, saying I'm sorry again and again, and I don't know what to do without you.

As I slipped out of the door, I found myself wishing I could erase what I had just overheard. That little snippet of conversation had given me a glimpse into Erik's life that I did not need to know anything about. He was my benefactor now, not some man Rosie had set me up with. What Erik and I had was a professional arrangement, no matter how childish and simple my written agreement had been.

And for now, I was going to honor my end of the agreement. I was going to paint, and I was going to give it everything I got. Something inside me did not want to let him down - this man who recognized my art when he first saw it, the one who still believed it was there. I wasn't going to let Erik down.

But most of all, I didn't want to let myself down.