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“You look so thoughtful,” Grace says.
“I’m thinking that I want you in my arms right now.”
Chapter 17
Grace
“You’ve had this happy grin all day,” Isla says from the kitchen where she’s washing lettuce. It’s a twenty-four-hour shift and our turn to cook dinner.
“Can’t a person be happy for no particular reason?”
She stares at me. “I’m so happy for you. For what it’s worth, I think that Kyle is a pretty decent person. Everyone here says so.”
“I think he’s great too.”
“So what is his place like?” Isla says with the enthusiasm of a child, making me laugh.
I describe his house for her in excruciating detail and tell her about his staff, who seem to be in his house all the time.
“That’s to be expected, though, isn’t it? His personal assistant probably works from his house as well as his driver and bodyguard,” Isla says.
“You make it sound so normal to have five or so people in your house,” I tell her.
“It is normal for him.” Isla has a point there.
“Something else happened. Kyle told me about this friend of his. He owns one of the largest galleries in New York, and he saw my paintings at Kyle’s place. He wants to see the rest of my work.” My heart pounds as I say this. I’ve never harbored dreams of going to the next level with my artwork. It’s always been a hobby and an escape for me when life gets tough.
“Oh my goodness, what exciting news,” Isla cries out. “When is he going to see them?”
I wear a sheepish look. “I told Kyle I’d think about it.”
Isla places her hands on her hips. “Oh no, you’re not doing this. This is a heck of an opportunity to get your beautiful art in front of people.”
“I’m not sure it’s what I want.”
She drops her hands from her hips and looks away. “You have a special talent that brings joy to people. Remember the first piece you gave me? The landscape of the beach.”
I smile. “You loved that piece.”
“I still do, and it will always be my favorite. When I look at it, I feel happy, even when I’m sad and low. It’s a promise that tomorrow will be a better day and I won’t always feel sad. Imagine having that effect on other people, not just your best friend and boyfriend.”
Guilt kicks in. I know that art impacts people in a deep and meaningful way, but I’ve always told myself that I wasn’t yet good enough. I always put off showing off my art until a few years down the line, but now the opportunity has brought itself.
“I don’t get it,” Isla says. “What is stopping you?”
I think fast. I hadn’t planned on telling her about my past, but something makes me think again. I remember how it felt when I found out who Kyle was. I felt angry and betrayed. I saw it as proof that he didn’t trust me. When you trust someone, you’re open with them. Isla and I call each other best friends, but I don’t behave like one. I inhale deeply and make a snap decision to tell her because I trust her.
“It’s a long story.”
“We have all night,” she says.
It’s a good thing that we can multitask because, in an hour’s time, the guys are going to want dinner.
“I told you I was adopted, right?” I ask her.
“Yes.”
“Well, what I never told you was that I went to live with my adopted parents when I was ten years old. For the first decade of my life, I lived with my birth parents.”
“What was that like?” Isla asks me, creases of worry on her forehead.
“It was horrible,” I tell her. “You see, my parents were famous. My dad was Rick Ross.”
Her eyes widen. “The rock star?”
“Yeah, and my mom was a musician too.”
“I’ve read about them,” she says quietly. “My sister was obsessed with rock stars growing up. Oh my God.”
I can imagine what is going through her mind. She’s probably remembering the horror stories she’s read about my parents.
“I’m so sorry,” she says. She gets it. I might have grown up surrounded by wealth, but I lacked what I needed the most, which was love and stability.
I tell Isla a little bit about my childhood, and talking about it again, after Kyle, is not hard at all. I’m not emotional at all. I could be talking about a visit to the grocery store.
“Now that you mention it, there’s a resemblance to your dad,” she says and then goes still. “This is weird, but you resemble your adopted mom too.”
I grin. “That’s because she is his sister. That’s why it was easy for her to take me in.”
“That makes sense. I always thought it a wonderful coincidence that you and your aunty look so alike,” Isla says.
“I told you this because I know from first-hand experience how hurtful it is when someone you love and trust doesn’t come clean to you.”
