Everett is all professional and gentleman-like, shaking Allegra’s hand, and I can almost feel his charm radiating off him. My heart does another flip and another flop, reminding me how in love I was with this man at some point in my life.
“Nice to meet you,” Everett says, throwing in a little extra of that charm with an easy simper.
“So, we have some pieces in the back. Ones I usually save for more serious buyers,” Allegra explains. “We can start there and work our way up front.”
Allegra turns on her heels, and Everett and I follow.
“You didn’t tell me this was the gallery,” Everett whispers, ducking his head close to my ear. I keep my eyes on the floor while our steps move in synchrony on the hardwood floor.
He remembered.
I silently nod, smiling at my plum-colored shoes standing out against my white wide-legged slacks. When I turn to look at him, his eyes are on me with that smile I can’t seem to shake out of my head.
“Is your…work still here?”
I nod. “There’s still one piece,” I tell him, my voice shaking. We come to a stop at the back of the gallery, and there it is. It isn’t as vivid as it once was, and the golden tones of the sunset look more canary than the amber color it once was. But the lifeguard tower is hard to miss. Everett sees it, and he veers right into it. He’s not here anymore. He’s at the beach, right next to that tower, his footprints leaving marks on the wet sand just as they once did.
“So, this?—”
“Everett is familiar with this piece,” I gently interrupt Allegra. She politely nods, giving Everett a moment, and I walk up to him. “They never sold it,” I tell him. “I offered to take it back so it didn’t take up space in the gallery, but the previous gallery owner said it was okay. And when Allegra bought the gallery six years ago, she decided to keep it on display.”
I don’t know if Everett heard me. He gives no indication that he did. So I stay quiet, giving him a moment longer.
“I’ll take this one,” he says to the piece.
Allegra and I share a look. “It’s actually not for sale,” she explains.
That gets Everett’s attention, and he looks at Allegra with a steel look of determination. “What do you mean?”
“It’s the only piece that came with the gallery when I took ownership of it, and it’s really a part of the space,” she tells him. She looks at him apologetically, her body already angled toward another piece on the opposite wall.
Everett and I follow, and a deep scowl covers Everett’s features.
Allegra explains in a skillful voice, going over the different painting techniques and art styles. We move on to some sculptures, and Everett hasn’t said a single word. I can feel Allegra grow more nervous as we move along the gallery, and I realize Everett hasn’t made a decision on another piece aside from mine.
“Well,” Allegra says, her voice a little defeated. “I’ll give you two a minute to talk things over.”
I reach for Allegra’s arm for an appreciative squeeze. “Thank you, Allegra.” I turn to Everett, his scowl turning pensive and preoccupied. “Did you not see anything you like?”
“Maybe some of the sculptures,” he says, his voice distant and distracted.
“Okay,” I tell him, trying to sound encouraging. “Did you want to look at them again? Maybe you can pick some?—”
“I’m okay with whatever you pick, Teeny,” he interrupts. His tone is clipped, like he’s displeased.
“Sure. I’ll talk to Allegra, and we’ll go over some pieces. See what’ll be a good fit.”
I stop by Allegra’s office and give her some details on the hotel design changes and the entire remodel. I tell her I’ll be in touch with some decisions on the pieces, and we part ways. With that, Everett and I leave the gallery. We’re standing in the parking lot, my back against the door to my car and Everett standing about two feet from me. My eyes are back on my feet, noticing a small chip of nail polish on my middle toenail.
“I should get go?—”
“How are you?” Everett interrupts, ignoring my pending departure.
“I’m okay.” I sound so timid and scared, and maybe I am. Maybe Everett’s presence, while it makes a flurry of butterflies grow rampant in my stomach, also terrifies me.
He nods, and I fidget with my car keys.
More silence sits between us. I finally look at him, and I realize why I’m so scared. I’m scared of my past. I’m scared it’s going to careen right into me when I’ve spent the last twenty years avoiding it. I’m scared that after all this time I spent safeguarding my heart, it was all for nothing. And I don’t know if I’ll survive it again. I don’t know if my heart will survive. People die from a broken heart. I’ve seen it happen in movies, in books, and that could be me. It could kill me.
