He’d been dealing with that pain since he had left Corinne’s side that morning. It served him right, he knew that. There would always be pain associated with being apart from his mate.
He just hadn’t expected it to be so…bad.
“You need to do something other than paint,” Johanna went on. “A proper life, something well balanced. York hired a COO, so that he could have more time with Josie. I know you can’t hire someone to paint for you, but maybe stepping back would be good for you and your artistic process, or what have you.”
Ever since his youngest brother, London, had found his mate, Bethany Russo, a PR wiz, Johanna had been on the tear to find her other two sons mates. She had even managed to get the real grump of the family, York, with a second mate. Paris hadn’t met Josie Essa, the antique dealer, yet. But apparently, she was just as lovely as Bethany. Those two women would need to have the patience of saints to deal with his heathen brothers.
Just like Corinne will need patience, and a hell of a lot of groveling, to forgive you for abandoning her.
Again, there was a sharp pain in his head, all the way down to his heart. It gripped him a little longer this time around. It was getting harder and harder to ignore the pain. Paris knew what it was.
He was in physical pain because he had found his mate, and he was choosing to stay away from her. It wasn’t healthy for shifters to do that, but it sure beat the alternative of being a shell of himself when Corinne inevitably died. Like all mortals. Then how would he go on? How would he be creative?
You’re not creative right now, you dickswab.
Johanna frowned at him, almost as if she could sense the turmoil her son was in. That wasn’t possible. Paris and his brothers might joke around that their mother was a psychic, but there was no way in hell it was true.
If Johanna knew that Paris had found his mate and was purposefully staying away from her, his mother would have moved heaven and earth to make sure Paris got with his lady.
Because that’s how things are supposed to be, you great big…
Paris tuned out his dragon and focused on his mother instead. He didn’t like this conversation, but it sure beat being berated by his dumb dragon.
You’re the dumb one, the beast hissed.
“You have two new sisters-in-law,” Johanna said. “And you’ve made no effort to reach out to your brothers to meet your new family members. It took me all sorts of threats to even get you to agree to meet with me. What is going on, Paris?”
He shook his head again. “Nothing.”
“You have always been a horrible liar, my boy. Tell me what’s happening.”
Paris exhaled. “Fine. I’m just having a bit of trouble with my muse. I haven’t been able to paint much lately.”
Johanna clicked her tongue with compassion. “My poor little artist. I know you’ve been having a hard time. You completely forgot about the showcase at the Warwick Museum of Art.”
Paris’s head snapped up. “What?”
Shit. Had he really forgotten about that? He must be even more distracted than he thought.
Told you.
“Well,” Johanna explained, “I sent you emails and letters about it. I know you like to change your artist name every now and again, and you prefer to make it on your own. You missed the deadline to apply for the showcase. More than that, I hired someone to paint our donation to the museum for their charity benefit. You kept ignoring me, and I’m sorry to tell you that the world doesn’t revolve around you, sweet boy. I had to move forward.” She gave a very Parisian nonchalant shrug.
“What the hell, Johanna?” he growled.
Johanna arched one perfect brow at him, and he immediately shook his head.
“Sorry, that was rude. I’m just…” he shook his head again, because he didn’t know what else to do. His head and neck were aching from all of the shakings he was doing. “If I missed the deadline and you hired someone else in the family’s name, I can’t even say anything about it. I’ve been pretty distracted lately. I deserve it.”
You deserve a hell of a lot worse for abandoning our beautiful, sweet mate. Don’t you remember what it was like to kiss her? Don’t you want to taste her again? Remember how her legs shook around your head, while you licked her sweet, little clit? You deserve to be an unknown, faceless artist for what you did to our Corinne.
“I’ll say.” Johanna’s words startled him. Did she agree with his dragon? No, that didn’t make sense.
“What was that?” he asked, vowing to pay attention. If Johanna thought he was having a full-on conversation with his dragon, she would never leave him alone.
“I was telling you about the painter. The wonderful artist is here, in the house. She’s staying with me while she completes her work. If you can imagine, she is in the worst possible situation for a young artist. She’s got no family, no support, and a lot on her plate.” Johanna clicked her tongue and sighed heavily, her concern for this nameless painter clear as day on her face.
Paris smiled despite himself. Johanna was good at picking up strays and making sure they had better lives. She had been doing that since he was a kid.
“I have to get to a luncheon. Anna is in town, and we have much to discuss about Fashion Week.” His mother had been friends with the woman for a long time. They had a lot in common, what with their passion for fashion. “I have to be off soon, but I would appreciate it if you looked in on my guest. Encourage her and whatnot. If you want, you could even set up your own work here. Perhaps she could be inspired by you.” Johanna was smirking at him knowingly. “Or she could inspire you.”
“You better not be playing matchmaker, Mother.”
Johanna gave him that shrug again. “Wouldn’t dream of it, my dear.” She winked at him before leaving him, dumbfounded and frustrated.
More like just dumb.
Chapter Seven
Corinne
The bedroom Corinne now occupied could have fit her apartment in it at least six times. That didn’t even include the en-suite bathroom that had the largest bathtub she had ever seen, or the sitting room.
That’s what Johanna had called it.
There was a full-on living room connected to the bedroom. Corinne had set up her work there, and it was far enough away from the bed that she wasn’t waking up in the middle of the night to puke anymore. The smell of the paint was kept securely behind the doors of the living room. Or sitting room, as she should call it.
Corinne had started to wear a mask to paint now. The fumes were non-toxic, and she had done about a billion hours of research to make sure the paint fumes weren’t harmful to her little Peanut. The mask was more for her, to make sure she didn’t have to puke every two seconds. Instead of gaining weight, she had lost five pounds since the beginning of her pregnancy.
That wasn’t good.
The doctor Johanna had taken her to had given her strict instructions on what to eat and what to do to get better. Or in the least, to decrease the symptoms. Hyperemesis Gravidarum was no joke. Corinne had to take a vitamin B6 supplement and eat pretty bland food and drink as many fluids as she could. She had to pee every five seconds, but it was better that than puking.