It was late when I awoke. Erik's arm was flung just below my breasts, his hand curled around my waist as I lay on my back, facing him. His face was certainly nice to wake up to, though I had to stop staring after some time, afraid he'd wake up and discover me watching him. But then, I had gazed at him all night as I sketched him, I thought. What was a few minutes more?

I had made two drawings of him, hidden now in the bin under my bed. I'd give him both drawings to keep, a part of me afraid that David would find them. I didn't know what Erik would think about my sketches, but they were about as true as I'd seen him last night. Asleep, there was a vulnerability to him that I'd never noticed before, his smile obscuring everything else. But there was also an edge to him that seemed to have translated itself onto the page, coming to life in the way I had smudged the colors to represent the shadows along the soft edges of his face, the laugh lines that graced the sides of his eyes and the squinting lines between his eye brows.

Even now, I could see those edges as he slept, his breathing soft and deep. I moved his arm as gently and quietly as I could, trying not to wake him as I rolled to my side.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," he murmured and I almost jumped. No one had ever called me Sleeping Beauty before.

"Don't look at me!" I cried as I covered my face with my hands. "I have to put on my face."

"Oh, nonsense," Erik said, pulling me back towards him. "You're beautiful. Anyway, it's too late to put on your face. I've been watching you sleep for the past hour. Do you know that you snore?"

I hit him on the arm with my fist, even more embarrassed.

"I'm only joking, Sam," he said, laughing and bringing up his hands to ward off my blows. "You actually don't snore, I swear it."

"You're going to regret saying that I do, mister," I said, pouting.

"What's my punishment then?" He asked, his voice low and playful. I felt his hand caressing my torso, moving down towards my hips and back up again, ending at my cheek.

It was difficult to stay angry at Erik, with his big grin and laughing blue eyes. No wonder Serena could barely let him go at all. "You'll see," I said. "You'll never see it coming."

He arched an eyebrow. "Fighting words, I see," he said, his hand moving down again towards my waist and as I watched his face turn even more mischievous, I gasped and tried to move away.

"No, you don't," I screeched as he tickled me, and soon we were in a scuffle on the bed, laughing and getting tangled in the sheets, till I begged him to stop. One was always at a disadvantage during a tickling contest when they were flat on their back, I wanted to tell him. That was the only reason he had the advantage. But even if I had wanted to say that to him, all such thoughts vanished when Erik brought my hands down on the bed and kissed me.

We kissed for a few minutes, and I could feel his hand moving down my hip and thigh, his fingers curling around my buttock. But the pressure on my bladder was just too great, and I pulled away. How could my timing be any worse, I thought.

"What's wrong?" He asked, worried.

"You tickled me so much I need to pee," I whispered, slipping from his arms and running to the bathroom. Once inside, I shut the door and noticed that one of my new toothbrushes was out of its packaging. He had gotten up before me, I thought, as I brushed my teeth and freshened up. By the time I got out of the bathroom, Erik was in the kitchen checking on the cupboards, making sure they were sturdy.

"I hope you don't mind - I used one of your new toothbrushes. I'll replace them later," he said.

"Oh, shush, I've got so many I can't use them fast enough," I laughed. "That's what happens when you buy them in bulk and there's only one of you."

"And one of you is all I need," Erik grinned. "Would you like to go out and have some breakfast?"

Other than cereal and oatmeal, I had nothing to make a hungry man a decent breakfast. But with my house within walking distance to the restaurants and shops of Hermosa Beach, going out was a good idea. Erik walked out into the garden while I returned into my room to change into a sundress. Already the sun was out and the bedroom was heating up.

We had plans to go to GoodStuff which was right off the Strand, but the coffee at Java Man called to us first as we made our way down Pier Avenue. We found a recently vacated table and Erik bussed the plates himself just before the busboy came out of the back room. Then he pulled up a chair for me to sit before asking me what I wanted.

He ordered two steaming hot cups of coffee, a bagel with cream cheese for me and a ham and cheese omelet with a side of sliced fruit for him.

As we ate, I realized that Erik was a touchy-feely type of person. If our hands weren't touching, our feet were. He liked trapping my foot between his legs. Our table was small so there really was no room for our legs to stretch out, but it made for a few laughs as we ate breakfast. I felt like we were on a couple who'd met just the night before, spent the night together and were spending the morning after finally connecting after that initial spark.

"Thank you for sitting for me last night," I said. "You're an excellent model."

"That's because I fell asleep," he smiled. "I hope I wasn't talking in my sleep."

"You were, but I'm not about to tell you what you were saying," I said, grinning as he gave me a surprised look. "I'll keep that for later, when I'm going to blackmail you."

"Are you going to show me what you drew?"

"One day," I teased, but relented immediately. "Of course you can see them, Erik. They're yours. I can't keep them in the house anyway."

He reached for my hand and squeezed it. His face had turned serious. "We need to talk about David, Sam," he said. "You can't keep hiding the fact that you're painting again, and that not only are you good at it, you love it."

"You don't understand-"

"What I don't understand is why you let him tell you how to live your life - in complete fear. What does he have over you that he can do whatever he wants?"

I shook my head. Suddenly whatever happiness I'd awoken with that morning was gone. "He knows everything about me. He'll take Michael away from me."

"I know a lot about you, Sam - at least from what you've told me, and there's nothing in your past that could ever cost you your child." He squeezed my hand again, and with his other hand, reach out to touch my cheek. "You can always tell me things, Sam."

"Can we just not talk about this right now? I was having so much fun."

Behind Erik, two men wearing board shorts and t-shirts entered the coffee shop, laughing at something one said to the other. There were followed by two women, who proceeded to search for an empty table. They looked like they walked off an AVP billboard, with their perfect tans, sandy blonde hair, and wide toothy smiles. As the women walked past us, peering into the back corner to see if there were any available tables, one of them caught sight of Erik.

"Erik? Oh my God, it is you! How are you?"

Her name was Carla and as the two people sitting on the table next to us got up, her friend, Maggie, commandeered it immediately. Soon, the two tables were side by side, and now there were four other people with us in the tight corner. Carla's boyfriend was Jake and Maggie was with Collin. With their golden tans, they made Erik and I seem like ghosts next to them. I discovered that they all played beach volleyball during the weekends and also during the week, after work. They also knew Erik through Serena - at least the women did, for Jake and Collin had both grown up in the South Bay and had known Erik from high school, along with another friend they mentioned, Josh.

"Who's your little friend, Erik?" Carla asked. "I've never met her before."

"This is Sam," Erik said, introducing me to everyone. "She's a painter."

"Oh, like a house painter?" Maggie asked, her eyes wide.

"No, she's a fine arts painter," Erik said even as Collin gave Maggie a gentle whack on the arm, as if telling her to be nice.

"What's your name again?" Carla asked. She seemed like the nicer of the two women, but their affiliation with Erik's ex-girlfriend left me wary. My discomfort only increased when I noticed Collin watching me closely, as if he was remembering me from somewhere.

"My name's Sam Martin," I replied, hoping that would be the end of any conversation about me or what I did.

"Samantha Martin? Are you the one who painted Strands?" Collin asked and my heart skipped a beat when I saw the look of recognition on his face, though that look had nothing to do with me as a person. It was all because of my painting. I glanced at Erik, my panic growing from the pit of my stomach.

I had felt this way when Erik first asked me to start painting again, but it had only been us then. This time, there was a frenetic energy at the table that was making me feel panicky. I felt like someone had thrust me inside a box and showed the box around.

"That would be her," Erik said, beaming. "Sam Martin."

"Dude, you finally found the artist of your favorite piece of work!" Collin said before turning to face me. "I'm Collin Maeser, and I work for the Logerman Art Group in Santa Monica. Have you heard of them?"

Who hadn't? The Logerman Art Group was among the best companies in the West Coast known to represent fine artists. If Collin was what I thought he was - an art rep - then he would certainly have heard about David.

"Yes, I have," I said. "You keep good company."

Collin's brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing. "Your rep didn't happen to be David Dean, did it?"

I swallowed as Erik squeezed my hand for what must have felt like the hundredth time that morning. "He was."

Suddenly it became difficult to breathe. I was sitting in the corner, surrounded by people who were now watching me closely and I needed to get out.

"Collin's the art rep I was going to refer to you once you finish some paintings," Erik said. "Maybe one day he can look at them?"

"If you don't currently have a rep, I'd love to represent you," Collin said, grinning.

By the time I forced myself to look at Erik, a bead of sweat dripped down my temple, and I knew I had to get out.

"I have to go," I blurted out, getting up from my chair. It scraped noisily against the wooden floor and Carla and Maggie looked up from their painted nails, startled. Erik stood up next to me, touching me lightly on my arm but I shook it off.

"It was nice to meet you, guys, but I've got to go," I said, squeezing my way between the wall and Collin's chair. "I'll see you around, Erik."

I was halfway out the door when I heard Erik calling my name, telling me to wait up. But I didn't want to wait. I just needed to get away, the sound of my blood rushing between my temples drowning everything else around me. I ran out the door and hurried up Pier Avenue, eager to get home.

I didn't need another art rep, I thought to myself. I didn't want another David Dean in my life. I hurried up the street towards Ardmore, crossing Pier Avenue without waiting for cars to stop at the Stop sign. Somewhere behind me, I could hear a child screaming from inside one of the cars and I suddenly missed my Michael, wanting to hold him in my arms and escape from it all. Still, I kept on walking even as Erik kept calling my name, asking me to stop.

When he finally caught up with me, we were standing in front of the store windows of the antique mall, which was right next to the fire and police station. That was how small Hermosa Beach was - both the police and the fire station were located in the adjacent buildings.

"Sam, please stop," Erik said. "My friends are harmless."

"It's not them," I said, avoiding his gaze. "I just remembered that I had something to do." I tried to walk around him but Erik was too quick. He stood in front of me.

"Look at me, Sam," he said as he placed his hands on my shoulders. "Please. Just look at me for now. Whatever happened back there - you're alright. You're fine. Everything's fine."

"Is it true what Collin said? That you've been looking for me all this time?"

"We already talked about this, Sam," he said. "I told you about how I found your painting and bought it. WhenI came back to buy another piece, all your pieces were gone and the owner told me what happened. It wasn't until I met Rosie and Chuck that your name came up again - and I thought that maybe when we'd meet during one of her dinners, I could give you your painting back. But it wasn't until Bella found your business card for your social networking -"

"I don't want it back," I snapped. "I told you that when I met you then."

"Then what happened back there? You freaked out when Collin mentioned Strands."

"Nothing happened back there," I lied. I continued to walk briskly towards home for the next ten minutes, with Erik following right behind me. The feeling of panic I'd felt earlier was slowly subsiding and I wished I could stop, calm down, and enjoy the rest of the day with Erik. I had so looked forward to it, just us spending the day together, reconnecting.

I'd love to represent you.

Five words, I thought. It took five words to hurtle me back to that time in my life when I first met David and fell for his lies about trust and love. I realized then that this was the type of baggage that someone like Erik didn't need in his life. He'd had his share of baggage with Chelsea, I thought. What on earth did someone like Erik see in me? A charity case? An opportunity to be a knight in shining armor to some broken chick who freaked over five words?

I was being hard on myself, but it was hard to stop when I was on a roll. And I wasn't about to stop even as I finally arrived home, unlocked the door and stepped inside. He stood by the landing facing me.

"Look, Erik, what happened between us last night was nice. It was sweet and romantic, but it's not real," I said. "I'm too old for that crap. I just have way too much baggage that you really can't handle - and neither is it your responsibility to handle it, whether it's fixing my cupboards, or fixing my life, or making sure that David doesn't hit me anymore. I'm too old for romance, or whatever it is you call whatever it is you're doing."

We stood opposite each other for a few moments. Erik simply watched me with a hurt expression in his eyes.

"Whatever it is you think I'm doing, Sam, I think it used to be called a courtship," he said quietly. "That's what this is - an old fashioned courtship between a man and woman who like each other. And I wish I had more time to devote to it, to show you just how much I like you. It has nothing to do with your art, or having you paint again. It has to do with you - just you."

"Then you're just wasting your time. I'm too old for-"

"No one is too old for love, Sam."

"Oh, please, Erik! That's the stuff of movies and books and-"

"Your paintings?" Erik asked. "Have you even looked at your paintings, Sam? Have you seen your love for life in your paintings? Because if you don't, I do. Olivia does. Even Zia Francesca sees it, too, and she doesn't even know you from Adam. It's what I love about you, Sam. It's in your art, only you're so busy denying it."

"My art is not who I am. It's just what it good at," I said.

"Your art is you, Sam," Erik said, heaving a sigh. "What emerges from your art is not from someone who is too jaded about falling in love. What emerges from your art is the work of someone who still believes in it - even if you flat out deny it."

"Don't tell me what I believe, Erik," I said angrily. "I'm too old to be told what to do by you or-"

"David?" He said, anger flashing in his eyes. "Because you let David tell you, not just what to do with your life, but how to live it - in complete fear," Erik said through gritted teeth. "Because that's how you're living our life right now, Sam. You're too afraid to do the very things that actually make you happy. You hide your art. You hide where you paint. You lie to David, to yourself, to keep that fear alive. Is that the life you want Michael to grow up in?"

I was speechless. I couldn't believe what I had just heard Erik say. He cursed under his breath as tears welled in my eyes but I wiped them away before they could fall down my cheeks.

"Just leave, Erik. Leave right now, before we say anything else we're going to regret."

He exhaled, taking a step back as I shut the door, fighting back the tears. His words hurt, but only because everything he said was true. I waited till I heard him drive away before peering through the blinds.

I was still gazing through the blinds a minute or two after when another car drove into the driveway. It was David, yelling at Michael to be quiet in the back seat.

And Michael was crying, flailing his arms, and calling for me.