Don’t let him see.
I swallowed the lump of lead in my throat and forced a breezy tone. “Uh, no. They couldn’t make it.”
Cam’s smile didn’t falter at first, but his brows drew together. “Oh. That sucks. Are they coming tomorrow then? Or did they send flowers?”
“No flowers.” I smoothed a non-existent wrinkle on my dress, needing to do something with my trembling hands. “They aren’t really interested in my art, Cam.”
His face fell, confusion flickering across his features. “They’re not... what?”
I forced a smile. “It’s fine. Really. This isn’t their thing.”
He looked like he wanted to argue, his jaw working, but this wasn’t the time or place.
“Em...” His voice was low, concerned.
“Cam, it’s okay.” I squeezed his hand. “I’m used to it. Let’s just enjoy tonight, yeah?”
He studied my face for a long moment, and I could practically see him filing this away for later. Finally, he nodded, but his hand tightened protectively around mine and he said, “More fool them because you, Emily McIntyre, are incredible. Just look at what you did.” He turned me to face my painting. I let myself look at it. Really look at it.
I’d done this. I’d created something real and put it out into the world, and maybe that was enough. Maybe just being brave enough to try was its own kind of success. “Thank you,” I whispered.
“No problem.” He slid his arm around my waist and pressed a kiss into my hair.
Hours later,the gallery had finally emptied out. Yes, my feet hurt and my social battery was drained, but I felt lighter than air as we walked across the dark parking lot to Cam’s truck.
“You good?” Cam asked as he opened the passenger door.
“I think so.” I climbed in. “That was a lot, but you were amazing. I don’t think I could have got through it without you. I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you.”
He closed the door and when he got into the driver’s seat, said, “Well, you could get my mom off my case and come to Sunday lunch some time soon.”
I giggled. “Like that’s a hardship! You just tell me when and I’ll be there.”
“Okay then.” He started the engine and once we were out on the main road, reached for my hand, threading his fingers through mine.
I leaned back on the headrest and closed my eyes, letting myself enjoy the quiet after such a huge night.
My phone buzzed in my purse. I almost ignored it, too tired to deal with more congratulations texts, but something made me pull it out.
It was from Diana.
My heart stopped.
“Oh my god,” I breathed.
Cam shot me a look. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I just...” I stared at the screen, reading the message again to make sure I hadn’t imagined it. “Someone bought my painting.”
The truck swerved slightly before Cam corrected. “What?”
“Diana just texted me. Someone bought it. Tonight. At the show.” My hands were shaking as I held the phone. “Oh my god, Cam. Someone bought my painting!”
“Holy shit! That’s amazing!”
“I know!”
I looked down at my phone one more time, at Diana’s message, and let the reality of it sink in.
