“This is your gallery?”
She nods. “Well, it is my family’s. But I visit it whenever I’m not in Florence.”
“Wow,” I breathe out, amazed at what it must feel like to own all this beautiful history.
“I didn’t bring you here to show off, Lea,” she continues, “I brought you here because you said you feel lost.”
I look at her now, but she continues staring at the portrait.
“Every room in this gallery holds artists who studied across cities and regions, absorbed the style of other artists before finding their own voice, and they traveled constantly while working under patrons.” She finally meets my eyes. “Movement and art creates clarity, my dear, and I think that’s exactly what you’re looking for.”
She’s not wrong. Everything feels so confusing and jumbled in my head. I don’t know what I want to do with my life anymore, and it feels like I’m at fork-roads with no clear path. I take a deep breath, walking up to a smaller painting and noticing how detailed the brush strokes are.
“To be honest, Giovanna, I’m worried about saying yes to your program.”
“And why is that?” her voice echoes in the empty room.
“All my life, I feel like I’ve just run away from my problems. Even coming to Italy is me running away from my problems.” Ipause, considering my words. “If I sign up to your program that means I’ll be running for a year.”
She releases a breathy laugh before whispering “Poverina…”?*, and comes to stand next to me again. I turn to face her and she’s still got her arms crossed as she studies my expressions.
“The way I see it, Lea, you can stay lost where you are, back home, or be lost somewhere that teaches you how to find yourself.” Her words feel like a punch in the gut, but they’re also so true. “This isn’t just a fun art program. It’s hard work, a chance to rebuild yourself away from expectations of those around you.”
I hold her gaze, my mind racing with the possibilities of what my life could look like a year from now, and the possibilities leave me excited.
“Okay,” I finally say, a smile creeping its way onto my lips. “I’ll do it.”
She grins back at me, giving a small excited clap.
“Do what?”
The smile drops from my face and my blood runs cold at that familiar voice. There’s no way he’s here in Rome. I have to be hearing things. But by the way Giovanna lifts her gaze and curiously looks behind me, I know I’m not.
I slowly turn, finding none other than Gabriel Matthews leaning against the archway, his legs crossed at the ankle and arms folded across his chest.
And he lookspissed.
* “buona giornata!” =Have a good day!
* “Dai, vieni a vedere!” = Come on, come see!
* “Poverina” = Poor thing.
SIX
GABRIEL | ROME
Zalea lookslike she’s seen a ghost as she stares back at me, and I don’t blame her. I probably look like shit after only getting three hours of sleep in my shitty hotel. I woke up with ants crawling up my arms, for fucks sake.
“How did you get into the gallery and who are you?” the woman next to Zalea asks, looking half annoyed, half curious.
“One of my problems,” Zalea mumbles, holding my gaze.
I quirk an eyebrow. “I’m a problem now, Red?”
She shoots me a forced smile as she narrows her eyes in warning before turning back to the woman. “I should probably go,” she says, her smile turning polite. “How do I sign up for your program?”
The woman hands Zalea her phone, and I watch as she enters her contact details. “I’ll send all the details to you by the end of the day.”
