He wasn’t mine.
And I wasn’t sure I’d ever be brave enough to let him see the real me, scars and all.
EMILY
The drive to the gallery felt both endless and far too short. When it came into view, my stomach dropped.
It was a converted warehouse with huge windows and industrial charm. The idea that my art was about to be hanging in there was almost beyond comprehension.
“Breathe,” Cam said, downshifting his truck as we pulled up to the loading zone.
“I am breathing. I think.”
“You’re hyperventilating. There’s a difference.”
A woman approached the truck as Cam and I got out. She had silver hair, cat eye glasses and wore a trim black dress. “Hi, I’m Diana, the gallery coordinator.”
“I’m Emily McIntyre. It’s so nice to meet you in person.”
“Likewise. And I must say, I’m so excited to see what you’ve brought. Your instructor tells me that you’re quite a talent, especially considering that you’re only able to attend her classes part time.”
“Th-thank you. That’s really kind of you.”
She gave me a warm smile and gestured to two young guys hovering behind her. “Jeffrey and Ben will help get it inside.”
I stepped back as Cam helped the guys extract the large canvas from the truck bed. My hands were shaking. Actually shaking. I shoved them into my dress pockets to hide the tremors.
“It’s quite large,” Diana said, approval in her voice. “Wonderful. We’ve reserved the far wall for it. Perfect natural light.”
The guys carried my canvas toward the entrance, and we followed. Cam’s hand landed on the small of my back, steady and warm, once the heavy lifting was done.
“This is it,” I whispered. “No turning back.”
“You belong here,” Cam murmured near my ear.
We walked inside, and my senses went into overdrive. The space was beautiful, all exposed brick and polished concrete floors. Other pieces were already hung, paintings and sculptures that looked professional and important. Fuck.
Diana directed the guys to the far wall, where they hoisted my canvas onto the mounts in one fluid motion.
“Ready for the unveiling?”
No. “Yes.”
I stood frozen while Jeffrey and Ben removed the protective covering, keeping my eyes on the floor. I couldn’t watch. Couldn’t see it hanging there, exposed and vulnerable.
“Em.” Cam’s voice was rough. I forced my gaze up to see him stepping closer, his eyes roving over my painting.
I’d painted a river scene, with willow trees and wildflowers along the bank and sunlight dancing on the water.
“This is...” He turned to me, and I saw something like awe in his expression. “It’s… extraordinary.”
My eyes stung. “Really?”
“Really.” He looked back at the painting. “How did you... where did this come from?”
“I don’t know.” I moved to stand beside him. “It was such a beautiful day, the light hitting everything just right. It just sort of poured out of me.”
“Unbelievable.” He pulled me into a quick, hard hug. “I’m proud of you.”
