Page 156

Lizzie barked out a laugh. “Twinnie, please tell me you’re joking,” she wheezed. “You’re supposed to be smart. Like me.”

“Well, what else am I supposed to conclude from the lack of communication?” Charlotte bristled, nails drumming against the wheel.

“Can’t speak for her,” Lizzie sighed, pausing. “But I can tell you she’s communicating very clearly in here. Loud and clear. So clear even I, mama’s least artistically gifted offspring, can understand.”

“What does it say?” Charlotte asked, looking to the gallery doors.

“Why don’t you come inside and find out?”

Music from a string quartet greeted her at the entrance. The gallery wasn’t yet crowded, just early arrivals murmuring over champagne. Someone placed a brochure in her hand, another offered her a flute, guiding her into the open airy space.

She saw the paintings. But at first, she couldn’t comprehend them.

She’d seen more than a few of the paintings hung up on the gallery walls. Watched as Ali’s brush moved across the canvas, rendering patches of color into form. Charlotte never got tired of watching the transformation. She’d seen, but nothing could have prepared her for the feeling that squeezed around her heart as she beheld a room full of paintings, beautiful paintings, of her.

The first hung near the entrance. Seeing it for the first time was when she started to believe Ali felt something real for her. The moment Charlotte stopped denying her own.

But moving through the gallery now, following the quiet narrative Ali had painted in loving and exquisite detail… the feeling when she looked at that first portrait paled in comparison to what swelled in her now.

The sensation only grew more vast and unshakable as she moved from one piece to the next, taking in the details, the loose textured brush strokes, the lines of charcoal peeking through that echoed like memory. Ali painted her in so many ways, but through a lens that was so incredibly hers.

Then she reached the end, the final piece. The largest and the only one with two figures. Charlotte, in the center, and in her arms, a woman with auburn hair.

“Lina,” Charlotte whispered, awestruck.

Ocean eyes swept the room again, her head spinning as her breathing went shallow and something profound shifted in the depths of her psyche.

This must have been the photo Ali found waiting on her camera after the wedding. The moment they danced alone on the empty floor. Now frozen in paint and charcoal, Charlotte guiding Ali back into her arms after a spin, their joined hands hovering between them, Charlotte’s arm firm at her waist. Ali’s free hand floated out to one side, an elegant lift to her pinky and index finger.

A fragment of affection preserved.

Ali’s dress captured a state of motion. Gold threads woven throughout the skirts caught the luminance from the twinkling lights and lanterns hung overhead. The background was dark, except for the lights or what their soft beams illuminated. Everything behind the figures was blurred giving it the sense everything outside of them was fading away.

Charlotte looked just as stunning as she was in all the other portraits, only in this there was so much joy and affection in her expression. There was desire too, hidden in the crystalline pools Ali depicted. All mirrored in Ali’s expression. Light wound over her twisted strands, making them glow, embodying the spirit of autumn. The braided crown and flowers woven into it kept her trapped in the form of some woodland fairy.

The highlights Ali added to her dress where the light struck gave the illusion she came alive in Charlotte’s arms. And the warmth flowing from Ali became a light for Charlotte herself.

An accurate representation of who they were to each other and what their affection and support brought to each of their lives.

A presence lingered beside her.

Ali, looking like autumn.

The gallery lights caught the strands of copper in her hair, winding through her curls and turning them to living embers. She released the breath she hadn’t meant to hold as a spark coaxed Charlotte’s heart to find its rhythm.

She was the one… there was no doubt in Charlotte’s mind.

Ali was hers and she was Ali’s.

Adoration, and yearning…

Ali’s tone was wrapped in reverence as she stepped closer. “Leah upped her offer for this one to a hundred thousand. I’m pretty sure she’s just being sweet but…” Her gaze lifted and there was nothing but devotion in those coffee eyes. “I wouldn’t part with it for the world.”

Charlotte had to look away. Emotion surged too fast, filling her up all at once. The title of the show written across the front of the brochure looked back up at her.

On Love, Sapphic.

Charlotte’s lips parted as her breath hitched.