‘No, but seriously,’ Lydia says, as I see Sam get out of Jill’s car. ‘Is everything okay?’
Sam waves at me, a smile so big, like a ray of sunshine. It thaws my anger, my hurt.
‘Everything is fine,’ I say. ‘Working again?’
‘Yeah, had to cover this one last minute, too.’ She shakes her head. ‘I don’t wish to talk about it.’
‘You don’t concern yourself with the particulars.’
She laughs, and I’ve never felt more proud.
‘Catch you later, Lydia.’
The cries she heard were me mourning the loss of what I once had with Ollie. After he asked me to marry him, differently this time, I felt numb, my thoughts sluggish, and then as I got back into the privacy of my hotel room, it all hit me. We’re truly done. We’re never going back to how it once was. Now he needs me, but for something else. And I don’t know how to handle that.
It already hurts to accept that I need to let him go; it kills me to think that I should be the one to marry him to someone else. After everything we’ve been through.
Sam pats me on the back as I approach. He’s got a shoulder bag strapped to him. ‘Thought we could sit in the back of the car.’
Jill drives us away.
As we drive, I let my hand snake over to his until I make contact.
He lets out a small gasp, stifled as he glances at the back of his mum’s head.
It’s like we’re kids again, getting away with something secret.
With confidence, he takes my hand in his.
‘Thank you so much for stepping in for us at the last minute,’ Jill says as we park outside the art gallery. ‘Our model had to work.’
Getting out of the car, the warmth of the evening air strikes me. The indigo sky reveals sparkling stars and all of its secrets.
‘Have you modelled before?’
‘Oh, no, of course not,’ I say. ‘But I don’t mind being drawn.’
‘Mostly painted,’ Sam says.
We head into the gallery reception. Voices drift from somewhere in the beige marble building.
‘What are they expecting from me?’ I ask. ‘Are we doing portraits? Do I need to pose with anything?’
Jill looks at Sam.
‘You didn’t tell him?’
Sam adjusts his T-shirt, avoiding my eyes.
‘I thought he already knew.’
I look between them.
‘What am I missing here?’
‘You know this is life drawing, don’t you?’ Jill asks. ‘Nudelife drawing.’
She says this last bit in a whisper.
