The sound of our heavy breathing was all I could hear above the soulful sounds of jazz sneaking in from beyond the curtain.
Oh my God. I can’t believe we just did that. Oh my God.
Insanity. Complete insanity. Mind-blowing insanity.
Rix pulled away, and wetness slid down my thighs.
Crap. Reality set in. “I gotta get to the ladies’ room to repair. And, um, clean up.”
“Shit. I should’ve . . . I didn’t even think. Fuck. I didn’t come here for this, regardless of what you’re thinking.”
My eyes met his in the darkness of the room. “Why did you come?”
“Same reason I always come. I can’t stay away.”
AS I LAY IN BED, Rix’s body curled around me, I couldn’t help but relive the events of tonight. We’d gone our separate ways once we’d left the closed-off room. Luckily, no one had seen me make my way to the restroom or his exit out a side door.
When I’d returned from the ladies’, Garrett Hughes hadn’t approached me again, but I’d felt his eyes on me. I’d stayed close to my father, wondering what he would have done if I’d brought Rix back into the room with me. How would I have introduced him?
Daddy, this is the guy I’m in love with. I don’t know his full name because I don’t ask questions. It’s better that way. I think he might love me too, but I don’t know because I’m afraid to bring it up.
I would sound like an idiot. Who gets into a relationship with someone they know virtually nothing about?
Tomorrow. I would ask all my questions tomorrow. Including the most important one—did we have a future?
Rix was gone when I woke, foiling my plans. No note. No text. Nothing. Did he have some kind of man-radar that went off when he knew I wanted to talk about something serious? Like questions he might not have answers to?
I busied myself getting ready for the day and arrived at the gallery an hour early. My new window sparkled in the sunlight, and I rearranged a few pieces. I had a gap on one wall and didn’t know what I wanted to use to fill it. A quiet voice inside me told me that it was where my work should go.
This new Valentina Noble was brave enough to take risks, but did those include baring her heart and soul, and letting the world know she was an artist as well? Did I have thick enough skin? Could I handle the comments that my work was amateurish and not high enough caliber to be displayed on my own walls?
I supposed I would find out.
I locked the door, set the alarm, and headed back home.
My Tesla wasn’t ideal for transporting artwork, but I fit three small pieces in the front seat. It had taken me nearly forty minutes to decide which ones to pick. I’d ended up selecting three that were similar in style to the one Yve and Lucas had bought. Which reminded me, I needed to honor my promise to notify them before I put these up for sale.
Trinity waited at the door, head ducked to stare at her phone, as I approached with the canvases.
“Would you mind giving me a hand?” I asked, happy to see her in the spot she’d waited for me so many times before. It was like the world was righting itself again.
Her head jerked up and she took in my full arms. Scurrying over, she lifted the paintings from my hold. I didn’t normally show up with an armful of canvases, so the confusion on her face was justified. Normally our pieces were shipped in or dropped off by the artist.
“What are these?”
She looked down at them as I reached into my purse for my keys.
“They’re new pieces I’m going to sell.”
“Who’s the artist?”
Here it was, my opening. I swallowed and gathered all the strains of confidence floating around inside me. “Me.”
I expected shock. Instead I got a big smile.
“It’s about time.”
“Excuse me?”
Finding my keys, I pushed one into the lock and opened the door before turning off the alarm.
Trinity followed me inside. “You forget how many times I’ve been to your house. It’s not like you lock the door to your studio.”
No, but I definitely kept it closed. Then again, she was a curious girl.
“So you went snooping?”
“I smelled paint thinner, and I’m an artist. What would you have done?”
Good point. I pulled open the drawer to my desk and dropped my purse inside.
“Where are we going to put them?” Trinity asked.
“I’m debating. I . . . kind of sold one of my pieces already as an anonymous artist, and the buyers asked to be notified if any other pieces by that particular artist came up for sale.”
“Guess I missed out on a lot while I was watching Netflix and stuffing my face with Cheetos.”
She left out the part about being scared to death and locked in a room. I’d texted her several times over the last couple of days to check in, but her responses had all been along the same lines. I’m fine. I promise. No worse for wear. Actually, I’m lucky as hell it wasn’t worse, and I’m going to put it out of my mind.