Art made sense to me. It didn’t demand explanations or require unnecessarily lengthy contracts or negotiations. Right now, this was the one part of my life where I felt utterly at ease and in control, and I slipped back into it easily, starting with the labels and then moving over to the display.
I was on my second cup of coffee, trying to ensure that theTraveler’sJourneywas being lit exactly the way I would’ve liked it if it was mine, when I noticed Zach standing in front of the main piece being showcased.
So shocked that the sip I’d just taken nearly sprayed right back out, I just watched him for a minute while I tried to remember how my legs worked. He had his hands in his pockets and his head was tilted slightly as he studied the painting like he was trying to understand it instead of just looking at it.
I smoothed my hands down the front of my skirt without really knowing why I was doing it, then walked over. “Are you interested in the piece?”
I kept my tone light and professional, and he smiled when he glanced at me. “Only if you get commission from the sale.”
“As it happens, I do,” I said, folding my arms loosely over my chest and trying to ignore how warm and tingly it made me feelthat he’d even think of that. No one had cared about what I did—and didn’t—get in a very long time. “So you’re in luck.”
“Excellent,” he replied without skipping a beat. “Show me the most expensive piece in the gallery. Please.”
I arched an eyebrow at him. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
“You don’t even like art, Zach.”
“I don’tunderstandart,” he corrected happily. “There’s a big difference. Just because I don’t understand it doesn’t mean it’s not a good investment.”
A quiet laugh slid out of me as I shook my head, but since I couldn’t argue, I nodded toward the display at the far end of the showroom. “Okay, then. Let’s go see it. Follow me.”
I led him further into the gallery, to one of the larger pieces we’d just had installed. It was bold and abstract, one of those paintings that made people nod thoughtfully while clearly having no idea what they were looking at.
“This is one of our highest-valued pieces at the moment. It’s calledLife As We Don’t Know It,” I said. “The artist is a thought-provoking local who’s made a name for herself depicting life as she sees it.”
“Ugly?”
“Sometimes,” I replied, shrugging when he gave me a look like I knew he’d been joking, which I did, but that didn’t make my answer any less true. “She’s trying to convey that people see different things even though they’re looking at the same picture. She’s trying to show that things can be messy and chaotic, and seemingly not make any sense at all, and yet, there’s still a sense of beauty to it.”
“You get all that from something that looks like someone put up a canvas and threw paint at it?”
“You don’t like this one, do you?”
He shrugged. “Like I said, I still don’t understand art. I truly don’t understand how someone looks at misshapen blobs and gets all that, but I do remember your preferred styles and I remember you liked looking at things that make no sense to me.”
Warmth spread through my chest all over again, so intensely that it nearly overwhelmed me this time. It suddenly felt like we’d stepped back in time and we were dating again, back when we’d finally gotten together after years of friendship and everything had been perfect. Easy. Natural.
“I feel like I should get it,” he said, interrupting my thoughts. “Why don’t I see what she’s trying to say with it?”
When I glanced back up at him, I saw that he’d turned back to the painting and was leaning slightly forward now, like maybe if he could just get closer, he’d finally make out what all the fuss was about.”
“You’re not supposed to, Zach,” I said. “That’s the point.”
He pursed his lips. “That’s a terrible system.”
“It’s art.”
“That’s not a defense.”
I laughed and shook my head. “You really haven’t changed.”
“Neither have you,” he said, and the warmth flared up again.
As I looked up at him, past the man he’d become, it was like I could still see the boy underneath. Back to all the smiles, hugs, and everything else we’d shared, but most of all, it was like I could feel that old connection thrumming right beneath the surface, humming back to life in all the best ways possible.
He held my gaze for a second longer, but it was almost like I could see the switch flip somewhere deep inside him when his guards slid back up. He was still looking at me, but it was different now, his expression harder and more unreadable again.
