“Yeah? Why? To threaten me for living in sin with his daughter?” he teased, unbuttoning and rolling his sleeves to his elbows.
“No.” I laughed then bit my lip, unsure how to ask him what my father had revealed. The doorbell rang. Ugh. “Never mind, it can keep for later.”
With a nod, Max went off and answered the door. The couple that turned up was all smiles as they shook hands with Max. The thin, tall man sported hair paler than Max’s. He glanced around the studio. The woman with eye-catching spiral locks and brown eyes that were lighter than her skin studied me instead.
“So you’re the artist?” she asked, a slight twang in her tone.
I nodded like a mute.
“Neil, Debra, this is Ila Logan. Logan, Neil Harrison and Debra Taye.”
Introductions over, they wandered around the studio, I remained at the entrance, so glad Max hadn’t said I was his girlfriend or anything. Max looked at me and gave me an encouraging smile.
But I couldn’t return it, my entire body strung too tight as they studied the paintings I’d displayed.
What seemed like hours later, the man, Neil, turned to me. “This shows some potential. We’ll showcase a few pieces, see what response we get and go from there.”
Max frowned. “Neil—”
“It’s the best I can do. You mother was a dear, dear patron.”
My heart tumbled to my feet. He was only doing this because of Max’s mom. I had to rein in the urge to hide all my work. Why had I listened to Max?
After a moment, the woman glanced at me. “This is all you have? Is there anything else?”
At her even tone, I shook my head, wishing this visit were over.
“Okay, I’ll take them all.”
Wait— “What?”
Debra smiled. “I want them. Your work’s unusual. Subtle and yet exudes passion and power. Incredible.”
“Now, wait a minute,” the man protested. “I said I’d take them—”
“Neil, I gave you a chance. You hesitated and lost out on a rare talent. This girl has a remarkable gift. I can’t wait to get my hands on everything she does.”
I stood there, lost for words, feeling as if they were talking about someone else. Debra’s gaze lit on Gus’s drying portrait. “While those are good, don’t waste your talent on basic painting.”
Max cut me an inscrutable look as he walked them out, the man, Neil, still grumbling.
In a daze, I crossed to my “basic” painting. All the while, I’d thought my own pieces were too dark…undeveloped.
“So?”
I spun around and leaped for Max. He gathered me close. “I’m glad you stepped out from behind those walls. For a moment there, I was worried. I take it you’re happy?”
“Yes-yes!” I held him tightly, tears rushing to my eyes. “Thank you—thank you!”
“C’mon, let’s go drink champagne and celebrate.” He grasped my hand and headed out to the living room. At the sight of a champagne bottle along with two flutes on the coffee table, I stopped.
“How did you know they would want my work? That man—”
“Is an ass, but he’s good. However, Debra’s better. Mom always said she had a good eye. So I knew either way…” He popped the Moët, topped the two crystal flutes, and handed me one. “To my awesome girlfriend.”
Still caught in the surreal moment, I drank half the bubbly liquid. Max sipped his and sat in the armchair, pulling me onto his lap. His cell rang.
Setting his glass on the end table, he shifted a little and retrieved the phone from his pants pocket.
