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He pulls me into his body, and we stare at our reflection in the mirror, and I have to admit, we look incredible together.
* * *
Kate’s galleryis high end. She has curated relationships with art collectors not just in Washington state but around the world. To get a show as a first-time artist is hard enough, but to rub elbows with some of her elite clients has me loosening the tie I feel is currently choking me.
“I could say don’t be nervous, but I know it won’t work.” He caresses my back, walking across the street to the gallery. Kate had asked us to come an hour after the show opened in order to talk candidly with her clients before my arrival.
My arm is laced with Noah’s when we cross the lobby of the gallery. Shane, Kate’s assistant, is at the doorway to greet us.
“Congratulations on your first show, Mr. Brooks.” He’s always so formal.
The place is busy, and far more patrons are in the main gallery than I’d expected.
“Thank you so much.”
Shane turns around and grabs two flutes of champagne, handing it to us without question, as though he’s telling us this is necessary.
“It’s good to see you again, Shane.” Noah extends his hand to his.
“And you too, Mr. James.”
Kate has a series of movable walls she uses for events at her gallery. The line of sight is incredible, and in the middle sits all my paintings, with the two other artists on each side of my exhibits. It’s the first time Noah is seeing any of my pieces, except for the space needle. He walks up to each one, like he’s studying them.
My collection is called Landscapes in Love. Every single one has pushed me back to my roots of my early love for Post Impressionism.
But more than the style, my paintings are places I visited with Noah, our road map to falling in love.
He’d already seen the space needle. But, in the middle, one of the highlights of my collection, is the painting I’ve worked on for several months. It’s a rendering of his workspace, with the curves of the banisters, the large windows with bright light flooding the shadows in the picture. It consists mainly of his studio with the outskirts of the painting containing the second level, along with his open bedroom.
I want my art to inspire Noah, and by the looks of his expression, he is as inspired by my art as I am by his.
25
Noah
Holy shit.I’m overcome with emotion. I can’t breathe, and there’s no way in hell I can look away from his masterpieces. This entire collection is the story of us.
My attention stays on the piece of my studio, which he has painted with such precision that I’m blown away. Hanging next to that is my grandfather’s A-framed cabin. In it, he uses the same technique he did in his pieceThe One.
The nature encompassing the edges of the painting is more abstract, but the light from the inside of the house is captured perfectly in the still of the night.
A smaller picture hangs next to the cabin. It’s my parent’s house. This had to have been a last-minute addition, but the strokes aren’t as precise as he typically paints. I sense the emotion of the house in the strokes. It speaks of the uncertainty, the doubt, and the erratic behavior of my mother. His paintings are always full of emotion, but this is different, and I can feel his pain of that day.
Painting by painting, I search each one intently, giving it the attention each one deserves. My dad’s boat, Parson’s Park, the inside of the gallery with our sheets over our two paintings. Key Arena, when it was still called Key Arena on the cold day of the Pearl Jam concert, and the sea of bodies walking toward it. My grandmother’s bench, near the creek, with trees surrounding it. The small town of Maple Falls. A suncatcher, like the one I made in the first class I taught at the boys and girls center. The outlook from where we first kissed, across from the restaurant. Fuck, I love thestory of us.
The last picture is to the side, but it’s the show stopper. It’s more than gorgeous and yet again, the way I’m in awe of my boyfriend’s beautiful mind is impossible to articulate. It’s a picture of the sun-shaped piñata on display and two young boys standing in front of it.
I’ve been moved by art before, and I never thought Ash’s pieces could affect me likeThe One,but fuck, this whole collection does just that.
My eyes water, and a few tears fall from my face. I turn to find he’s watching me the entire time. We’re not alone, and I can’t show him how much this collection means to me. I want to pull out my check book and beat every price anyone is willing to pay.
“I don’t have the words, Ash.” I tug him into my body, my face buried in his neck. “Fuck, baby. These are amazing.”
They’re a part of him. And in them, he’s included me in his world.
“I never doubted you would astonish everyone around us, but these are so fucking incredible.” I take in his flavor, his cologne and the way he stands, with pride in his art. “Hey, can you give me a second, though?” I ask, disappearing in the crowd, looking for Kate.
I’m quickly back at his side, but a few clients of Kate’s already have him surrounded. I search the door, looking for Tia, Caitlyn, or Liam. Even Dave and Greg are coming tonight.
