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I feel like gold, even with his fingers still inside me. Maybe especially now, in this frame that he made for me. I feel priceless. It has nothing to do with my last name or my family’s reputation or anything else.
It’s all because of Emerson.
He holds my gaze with affection and obsession. Every word has two meanings. Art is everything to him. But I am more than everything.
It’s the thinnest layer of paint over his heart.
And he’s said all of this with an audience.
His brothers are hearing this, too.
Tears well up. He invited them on purpose. He wanted them to be here for this. It’s so far from what he said that night at the charity gala. You don’t worry about your brothers? No. I’m not like you.
“That’s why I’ve made my life out of collecting art. It’s the only way I can feel. It’s the only way I can have the world with me. It’s the only part of the world I want. The only part I can stand. And I’ve been searching—” He swallows, hesitating for the first time. “I’ve been searching all my life for this piece.” And then, in a low voice, meant only for me, he adds, “For you.”
I finally find my voice. “Me?”
“Yes.” He’s being honest. Emerson isn’t concealing anything. I know he didn’t like how I saw him in the cave. He’s been struggling with it. None of that struggle shows now.
“You don’t care if other people see?”
“I want everyone to see.”
I’m short of breath. Overwhelmed. I don’t think I’ve ever been this treasured in all of my life. It’s like nothing I ever dreamed. Nothing I ever expected.
But I have to keep breathing, because passing out right now would ruin this whole moment. I don’t want it to end. There’s more.There’s more, if you want it.
I clear my throat to keep the tears at bay. “You want to show them?”
“Yes.”
“Then do it.”
