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I pointed. “Good call. That however leaves me without a subject for tomorrow’s class.”
Daisy sat on the edge of the bed. “Well, what do you need to paint for your showing? Maybe you could use the class to brainstorm or test out a new idea that’s been percolating.”
There had been an idea that had taken root. I wasn’t sure if it was any good, but I couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that I should do it. All my recent paintings had been an homage to my current feelings. The hideaway as I liked to call it, but maybe I could also paint the before. Before my mom died, before my dad’s heart attack, and then—if I was brave enough—paint something that captured how I felt after the heart attack. That crippling fear as I sat in the back of the ambulance that rushed him to the hospital. Having my heart in my throat as I waited for the surgeons to update me on his condition, as I burned holes in the soles of my shoes pacing back and forth until my brother arrived from St. Lucia.
The near constant exhaustion I’d felt in those early days back at my family house with Dad. Making him healthy meals and putting on a brave face during the day, while my nights were spent sobbing in the shower before tossing and turning. Startling myself awake whenever my eyes were closed long enough to dream.
I wasn’t sure I was ready to paint any of that yet, but I wanted to try.
"I have some ideas for the rest of my pieces."
Daisy looked at me expectantly. "Care to share?"
I shook my head. "You'll just have to attend the gallery showing like everyone else."
She scoffed. "As if I'd miss it."
"You're just saying that because you're with my brother."
Daisy frowned. "Don't say that."
I picked at the nonexistent lint on my PJs. "Why not?"
"Because you're my friend now too. Regardless of your brother," Daisy said fiercely. "Where's the ultra-confident woman I just saw shut down three bossy billionaires in the living room? The woman I met a few months back who marched into her brother's office wielding a painting and demanding it be hung."
My breath steadied. "A lot has happened in the last couple of months."
"I know," she said quietly.
"I feel like I'm getting to know this new version of myself."
Daisy observed me. "I think that's perfectly normal considering all you've been through over the last year.”
I reached out and held her hand. Grateful for the woman who’d become like a sister to me in just a few short months. I swallowed hard, as the crushing weight of everything—bad and good—came rushing to the surface.
“Come here.” Daisy pulled me into a hug as I tried to refill my lungs. My breaths were shallow as tears pricked my eyes. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay. We got you.”
Someone knocked on the door.
“Not a good time!” Daisy shouted.
“Why not?” Dominic asked as Sebastain responded. “I’m coming in.” The moment he saw my face, his eyes went ablaze.
He sank to his knees in front of the bed where I sat with Daisy. “What’s wrong?” The man’s hands scoured my body as if he were looking for injuries.
Daisy snuck off the bed and whispered something to Dominic. They slid out of the room, leaving us alone.
I wiped my cheeks. “I’m fine, Sebastian. I promise.” With his arms wrapped around me, I immediately settled. Oxygen filled my lungs. My tears dried up. My heart resumed its usual rhythm.
“If you were fine, you wouldn’t be crying in our bed.”
“It’s been a lot, Sebastian. All of it.”
He ran his hands through my hair, as I nuzzled my head in his lap. “I know.”
I inhaled the scent of him. “This is better. You make everything better.”
FORTY-TWO
