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Brad casts an uneasy look around.
“I was trying to provide security for us. You ran at the first sign of trouble.”
This man shared a home with me. Asked me to be his forever.
But my gaze runs over the strokes I put on one of the canvases. There’s the old version of me in that painting and the new one. Every layer is another layer of me.
I lift my chin. “I can see things through. At least when they’re worth seeing through.”
“Did I hear right that you’re dating some basketball player? Guys like that don’t stick around.”
The words are aimed at the soft spots between my ribs, but they glance off.
He can’t hurt me anymore.
The realization makes me stand straighter.
“As agonizing as it was to be left overnight and face the consequences of all you did, I should thank you.”
“Thank me?” Brad echoes, uneasy.
“You helped me clear everything out of my life that I didn’t want and made room for what I did. Now,” I lift my chin, “if you’re not here for the art, I’m going to ask you to leave. I know you have that part down.”
I watch him trip toward the door, stumble outside and cut across the street in front of the gallery.
I never wanted to see him again, but in a way I’m glad he came. It showed me he’s only a ghost with no power. A reminder of who I used to be and how far I’ve come.
Before I can turn back, my gaze lands on the bench outside. My heart kicks when I see a familiar form resting on the bench holding a bouquet, half illuminated by the gallery lights.
I’ve never run to a door so fast in my life.
* * *
CLAY
When I got to the gallery, I started to go in but stopped short when I saw her through the glass smiling with another woman.
She was wearing a pale gold dress, her hair pinned up in a pink knot on her head with dangly earrings.
She looked like an artist.
Or a goddess.
I was never much for sitting on the bench when I could be in the middle of the action, but tonight, I wanted her to have this moment for herself.
So I sat.
“You’re playing back-to-back games,” Nova murmurs when she sees me.
“You had your first gallery show. I needed to be here.”
She smiles, her eyes shining under the streetlights, raindrops collecting on her lashes.
Which parts of her created which parts of me? Because I wasn’t this man a year ago. Didn’t feel these feelings before her.
“These are for you.” I hold out the daisies—the largest bouquet I could order within walking distance of the gallery. “You always said they reminded you of home. Thought you might appreciate the reminder in the big city.”
Nova takes them, her slow smile and the way she cradles them in her arms making me glad I tried three different florists to find exactly the right ones.
