The Artist and the Actor – 25

 

 

Shane chuckled. "Believe me, I haven't. You've never been out of my thoughts, which I think I already told you."

 

"I tried to erase you from mine," Colin admitted. "I thought it worked until now." Moving closer, he hesitated before saying, "I don't know if I want to try again. I'm not sure it would work anymore than it did the first time." Grimacing, he added, "Not that we have time to find out. You'll be leaving in, what, a month or so?"

 

"That's the plan," Shane said. "We have rehearsals and then a four-week run, here. The show's scheduled to move on to Duluth in six weeks."

 

Colin's shoulders slumped. "Then that's that. I guess we could, I don't know, have dinner together a couple of times, while you're here. Catch up on our lives. Hell, maybe Detective Randall will find out who killed Gene Logan and link it to Kenny's murder. Then we would have something to celebrate before you leave."

 

"I'd like that," Shane replied quietly. "Dinners, I mean, though they'd have to be early ones, because of my schedule."

 

"I get that. I promise, even if I'm in what you call the 'throes' of painting, I'll stop and meet you wherever."

 

"Be still my heart. You'd do that for me?"

 

Colin shot him an angry look until he realized Shane was kidding. "Yes, for you, I would," he retorted with a wink.

 

"Then we're good. I suppose I should get out of here so you can get back to that." Shane gestured at the painting.

 

"Probably. You know how I am." Colin walked out of the studio, with Shane right beside him. As they started down the stairs he said, "I will try to tamp it down if you call to say 'How 'bout dinner tonight'." He smiled ruefully. "It's not like it'll kill me to take a break."

 

"I hope not," Shane replied with a grin. "I do not want to be the cause of your unfortunate demise. Thomas would never forgive me."

 

Colin laughed. "Probably not."

 

After Colin let Shane out of the house, he watched him get into his car and drive away before he closed the door—leaning against it. Do I want us to mend what went wrong? Would it matter if we did, since he'll be leaving so soon? He pushed off the door, heading upstairs. "And the biggest question of all. I don't hate him anymore, but do I still love him? I think, maybe, I do, damn it."