As I found myself in the car, reversing to leave, I couldn’t help but feel dejected. In the next day or so, I would get his signature half-assed apology, and like the idiot I was, I would accept it. Nowadays, I don’t think it would be out of obligation to keep the peace, but I would simply do it to please him because I bear the guilt of cheating. Almost like he could do no wrong as I was the doer of all the sins we vowed against on our wedding day.
With tears in my eyes, as I stopped at the red light, I couldn’t help the sob that escaped my chest.
This was all my fault. The loans, my marriage, my affair. All of it was me.The worst part of it all was that I finally felt happy. I was finally feeling like I would have a chance to bring my head above water—but even if I did, I would never float.
Because I’ve sunken. I’ve sunken deep into love with a man I would ruin my marriage for. A man who took away all of the pain and gave me only pleasure. A sick and twisted man who cherished me in ways I’d never imagined.
I wanted a family, I wanted to love, I wanted to have a husband that was understanding, I wanted a life that was filled with compassion. In a sense, I got part of what I wanted, but it was either with the wrong person or wrong intentions.
Hearing my phone buzz, I glanced over to it for a split second to see a message from Beckham. We had no session scheduled today; however, the message simply stated an address as well as a time to meet him: five PM. And like an idiot, like a fucking love-sick idiot,I knew I would be there. Because it was a vicious cycle—a cycle I needed to break.
Leave it to me to fall in love with a man who told me he wouldn’t be able to love me from the beginning.
As the clock struck at 5:02 PM, I waited anxiously in my car. I couldn’t move. It had been a long day of prepping and finalizing a lot for the upcoming exhibit, but I appreciated the busyness as it kept my mind occupied. Kira, my darling and amazing Kira, knew I had a rough morning and stopped at nothing to get me into a better mood.
But I now felt paralyzed outside another one of Beckham’s warehouses, anxiously anticipating another one of our sessions. And as much as I would enjoy a three-hour tension-filled painting session and mind-blowing sex to compensate afterward, I knew I wouldn’t be in the mood for it.
After stepping out of my car, I walked toward the building as the door opened simultaneously. Beckham stepped out, and I’m sure he recognized my melancholy mood from miles away. As I stopped before him, he placed a hand on my lower back, and his other hand caressed my face.
“Flower... what’s wrong?”
I gave a small smile as I shook my head.I hated how much he was able to read me.
“I’m fine, I promise.”
It was clear he didn’t believe me. Grabbing my hand in his, he slowly walked me into the warehouse.
As we stepped in, I furrowed my eyebrows and looked around. Sculptures and figures littered the floor while finished paintings and canvases were stacked high. Some of the artwork remained propped up, allowing me to see the intricate designs and details of each masterpiece.
Beckham let go of my hand as I looked around the room in awe. Some paintings were sad, some were angry, and a few depicted joy and happiness. Though we had some space to walk, the room felt full.
Looking back over to him, I realized his eyes never left me. “You created all of this?”
“It was the only way I could articulate my emotions, years of unspoken feelings that have been painted, sculpted, or carved ended up here or in my six other warehouses.”
“It’s a beautiful place to conduct our next session.” My eyes continued roaming the beautiful paintings.
“There… will be no more sessions, Flower.”
My eyes immediately returned to him instantly.
“What?” I breathed out, and he shrugged.
“I wanted to understand you through my artwork. I can successfully say that I’ve done that, and even more so with you.”
After a moment, he reached into his back pocket. Pulling out a set of keys, he held them out to me as I looked at him, dumbfounded.
“Beckham, what are you doing?”
“I’m giving you the keys to the most vulnerable parts of me, Flower. I used art to understand who I was… I used art to understand you. I’ve never needed the money, and I’ve never needed to be recognized for my artistry. Despite that, you still chose toseeme. You want the world to see me, and I’m giving you the tools to do so. I am giving you all of me.” I could only stare at him in utter disbelief as he spoke with utter sincerity. “I am giving youeverything. All of the profits made during the art exhibit, all of the profit you can make sharing my artistry with the world, will solely belong to you. I don’t need anything in return.”
My heart raced as I looked down at the keys that belonged to all of the warehouses that held his emotions and artistic visions. The keys to his mind, his psyche…his heart.
I knew Beckham never cared about the money or recognition. He didn’t want to gain anything in return for his art, but—
“But you do wantsomething,” I whispered as he approached me slowly and held his hand to the side of my face. My heart raced in anticipation as I looked into his possessive and captivating eyes.
“The only thing I want, Flower, isyou.”
