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“You do. I see it.”
I took another step and reached for him. He stiffened but didn’t resist. I pulled him close until our foreheads were pressed together, his heart pounding against mine.
“Cole…” Ambri shook his head. “You have no idea what’s at stake. I’ve made a terrible…miscalculation. I have to undo it before it’s too late.”
“Too late for who?”
He didn’t answer; his eyes roamed my face. His hand cupped my cheek. “I knew. When you were ill, that’s when I knew. Or maybe I’ve always known.”
His hand slid down, touching his fingertips to my lips. The yearning in his eyes was so palpable, I thought—prayed—that he’d crush his mouth to mine. That we’d spend the rest of the night tangled in his sheets in a heated frenzy of need, the feelings between us finally breaking free in every touch, every kiss, and every deep, perfect thrust…
But he didn’t.
Ambri let me go and turned to the window, and I was terrified that the night was going to swallow him for good if I let it.
“Wait,” I said. “At least come to the show with me. It’s yours anyway. Please. I’ll make sure the portrait is finished by then.”
He shook his head. “A folly. A dangerous gambit.”
“Ambri. Please.”
I held my breath, and finally, he nodded.
“I can’t attend the show, that would be unwise. But I’ll stay until then, and that must be the last we see of each other.”
“If that’s what you want,” I managed.
He turned to the window. “It’s what must be.”
I sank into the chair nearest the fire, suddenly exhausted down to my bones. Ambri had only been in my life a short while, and yet the thought of doing the rest of it without him was like a lead ball in my heart.
I rubbed my eyes so I wouldn’t have to watch him go, but when I looked up, he was standing before me. To my utter shock, he dropped to his knees. His arms went around my waist, and he rested his head in my lap.
“I can’t sleep but I’m so tired,” he said.
“I know.” I gently raked my fingers through his silken blond hair, over and over.
“I want to kiss you, but I can’t.”
“I know that too. I’d never ask you for something you can’t give.”
“Of course, you wouldn’t,” he said, his cheek on my thigh. “That’s what makes it all the more unbearable.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“You think this will end like the child’s storybook? I know your heart, Cole. You believe art shows us what love can do.” He shook his head; a hot tear seeped through my pants. “There is no blue fairy. No happy ending. Not for me.”
My eyes fell shut, and I wondered if he were right. If life was all just bullshit and suffering or if there was hope, even for those who turned their backs on it in their darkest hour.
No answers came.
I ran my hands over his back, his shoulders, his hair, and we stayed that way for a long time.
twenty
April
“Thanks for meeting me,” Vaughn Ritter said, leaning back in his chair and taking a long drag on his cigarette. His second since we sat down at the cafe patio a few minutes ago. “I’m sure you’re pretty busy gearing up for your show.”
