We walk out to the studio, and it’s only now that I’m not distracted by the presence of Alex that I take in all of Nate’s artwork around me. I stare at the moody pieces and smile—I’mactually impressed. I knew he was good. Every once in a while, he leaves pieces lying around the house, and we have a few hanging on the walls, but I never really knew just how good he is.
Until now.
“Dude, this is really amazing.”
He huffs. “Nah… it’s just something I needed when we weren’t touring or rehearsing.”
I take a seat and roll my eyes. “Nate, man, really… just take the compliment. Stop making excuses. You have talent… real talent. You’re fucking good. Yes, you work hard, but no matter how long I worked at painting, I wouldn’t be this good. So, you need to know you have a real talent here, bro. Youreally areextremely good.”
He half-smiles and slumps into his chair. “Thanks, that means a lot coming from my brother.”
“Ria isn’t the only one who believes in you, you know. I do… always have. I genuinely didn’t know how invested in this you were. I’m glad Ria saw this and helped you.”
He nods with a gulp and slumps down even further into his chair. “She should be here today,” he murmurs, and I barely catch what he’s said.
“Yeah, I know. But Alex is her friend, right?”
He nods. “Right.”
“So, she’ll tell her all about today and how amazing it’s going to go.”
“It’s not the same.”
“I know… and I know you want her here. I also know you want Ria in your life again. But she’s made her choice, and you can’t change that. Wishing isn’t going to make it so. If you want her back, you gotta do something about it.”
“Ria doesn’t want me. She’s made that quite clear, but I can’t stop thinking about her. I have this canvas that I’m painting for her. Started it when we were together, and I was going to finishit for her as a present. But now I’m going through stages of… do I finish it and send it to her anyway, or do I scrap it and use it on a bonfire? I don’t fucking know.” Nate’s eyes are glistening. “I know she wanted it, but would she still?”
I purse my lips. “Can I see it?”
Nate exhales, seeming to slump down further, if that’s possible, before pulling himself into a standing position and walking over to a covered canvas. He pulls off a piece of long, white material covering the artwork and reveals an almost finished piece. It’s lovely, and I can see why Zaria would’ve liked it. A grin creeps up on my lips, and I shake my head slightly in awe of what he’s achieved. Most of his artwork is moody and somewhat depressing, but this? This has a romantic air about it. It’s quite striking, and even with the darker tones and his flair, it would be a perfect gesture for him to send to Zaria.
Nate channels his brows. “You’re shaking your head. I should scrap it, shouldn’t I?”
I let out a chuckle. “No, just the opposite, bro. You gotta finish this, and you have to send it to her. It’s far too good to let it go to waste. Zaria wanted it. You’ve been painting it for her. So give it to her as a thank you for the gallery… for Alex… for everything. Even if it amounts to nothing, you should do it as a thank you, bro. You owe her that much for everything she’s given you.”
He inhales sharply. “You’re right. I owe her some acknowledgment. Thanks, Matt. Sometimes, I just need a clear voice of reason.”
I tilt my head. “Someone’s gotta have the brains in the family.”
He rolls his eyes and covers the canvas. “So, what’s happening with you? I feel like I haven’t touched base with you enough lately.”
I shrug and drop into my seat, then flop back into it. “Same ol’, same ol’. Been catching up on life between work, you know?Finally finished that show everyone’s been losing their shit over.”
Nate grunts, staring into his drink. “Which one?”
“The Boys. Took me three nights. It’s fucking brutal. I’m still deciding if I’m impressed or mildly traumatized.”
That earns the faintest smirk. “Yeah… it’s messed up.”
“Yeah… but it got me thinking,” I say, leaning back. “Might write something inspired by it. Kinda twisted, kinda heroic. Feels like the right mix.”
“Everything you write’s about chaos or heartbreak,” Nate mutters.
I shrug. “Hey, heartbreak sells.”
He huffs out a quiet laugh that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah… tell me about it.”
The silence that follows isn’t awkward—just heavy enough to feel real.
