Seth just laughs it off.
Luke and I spend the rest of the evening with our friends and mingling with the guests. At one point, I finally talk Luke into standing with his art and answering questions about it. It took some convincing, because Luke is really shy when it comes to his art. But finally he broke away from me and went to stand by his masterpieces—without a doubt, the most beautiful paintings in the entire room. And he drew small crowds of people in intervals. I watched him from my display just across the room, and he became more comfortable by the minute, it seemed, talking to the guests with that charming, gorgeous smile of his. I catch his eyes a few times, smiling at him across the short distance. He blushes hard and looks away.
After nearly an hour, Luke comes over to stand with me at my display.
“I told you,” he whispers against my ear just before another guest comes walking in my direction.
I whisper back, “What did you tell me?”
Before he can answer, the woman steps up, gazing down fondly at one of the last few photographs I have laid out on the table between us.
“Sorry. My display looks kind of bare now,” I say nervously, retaining my bright expression, my hands folded together down in front of me.
The woman looks up from the photograph and smiles.
“Oh, it’s fine,” she says. “I actually bought three of your largest ones about an hour ago.”
“Oh …” I say, surprised. “Well, thank you so much.”
“Your work is very beautiful,” she says. “I like your style.”
Luke squeezes my waist again, since it’s mostly all he can do, but I sense a hundred proud words in the gesture, including the words he had been about to say before she walked up: I told you that all of your photographs would be sold.
The woman ends up buying the three remaining photos I have on display.
Despite all of my photographs getting sold, that nervous knot in my stomach is still there—I’m not sure how I feel that I sold anything, much less everything! Does that mean I’m really good? Or were they pity purchases? Geez, Sienna! Just accept that you’re talented! I tell myself and smile so brightly I feel the air hit my teeth.
And like mine, all of Luke’s paintings were sold.
A few minutes before the center is to close and the event to shut down, Melinda comes to thank us again, telling us that it was, in fact, their most successful charity event ever. Between my photographs—I did donate them one hundred percent to the center—Luke’s paintings, and the many other pieces that sold by other artists, Melinda will be splitting a rather large donation among several different charities in the community. The community that I’m now an official part of—just thinking about it fills my heart with pride and happiness.
As the last of the guests file out of the building, Luke and I go outside to get some fresh air.
It’s almost nine o’clock, and the night air is perfectly warm, the breeze light. I can hear the deep pounding of drums off in the distance somewhere, knowing it’s the fire dancers that often perform for the tourists.
Luke and I walk slowly down the sidewalk hand in hand, the breeze pushing the thin fabric of my dress against me.
“It wouldn’t have been the same without you here,” Luke says.
I lay my head against his arm and he squeezes my hand, the delicious smell of his light cologne wrapping around me.
“I can’t think of any other place I’d rather be than with you,” I say.
We continue on down the sidewalk, making our way slowly toward a cab. People walk to and from in every direction, the night alive with movement and voices.
“Do you miss home yet?” Luke asks.
I shake my head. “I am home.”