It was keeping me busy, but despite it being seven weeks since I’d seen Sam, I still thought about him every moment.
We had our third business event tonight and I wanted this new work on the wall before people started to arrive. The aim of the parties wasn’t about the art at all. It was just a backdrop for a networking evening combined with a speech by a high-profile person in business or sports. Max had given me some suggested names and with what I was making on the venue hire, I used it all to pay the right person. Tonight it was some baseball player.
I waved at Scarlett as I saw her cross the street toward me, her almost-black hair so dramatic with her red coat. “Hey,” I said. “How are you? You look beautiful.”
“Stop it. You invented beautiful.” She glanced behind me. “I brought you lunch—I figured if I didn’t you wouldn’t eat.” She held up a paper bag.
“You’re good to me,” I said. “But I need to finish up with this delivery first.”
“No problem.”
“Hey, do I look cool?”
Scarlett frowned. “Cool?”
“You know, like it’s just another day and I’m not going to explode with excitement.” I grinned at her.
She laughed. “Yeah, babe, you always look cool. Are you excited?”
“Hell yes.” I nodded toward the delivery truck. “There’s a freaking Gauguin in this lot. Can you believe that?” All the incoming pieces were beautiful and a step up from the work I could normally stock, but a Gauguin? I was going to pee my pants. Art like this would put me on the map.
“Hey, I’ve heard of that guy. Isn’t he like in museums and shit?” Scarlett asked, smiling at me. “I knew that this place would be a smash.”
“Well, I’m not sure smash is the right word . . .” For the first time since I’d opened I felt like I had a bit of momentum.
“You should be so proud of yourself, Grace.”
“It was all Harper’s idea. She was trying to give me a focus after . . .” I shrugged. “You know.” I didn’t like talking about Sam. I tried not to even think about him. He ignored every single one of my calls and messages. He’d made his decision. Whatever his motivations, as Harper said, the outcome was still the same.
“Yeah, but you took it and ran with it. You made it all happen.”
What I hadn’t expected was that people would actually buy art during the events. I’d hoped to pass my card around and maybe people would think of me around bonus time or on their wife’s birthday. “I’ve gotten great sales on both the nights we’ve had these things—I hope we do again tonight.”
“Well, that’s because people can’t resist your good taste and charm. Speaking of, are any of the men dating material?”
“I thought you had your hands full with Duncan?” I asked.
“Not for me, silly. For you. I’m sure a couple of them have asked you out.”
“Oh, not really.” I opened the door to let the next delivery through. I’m not sure I would have noticed if I’d been hit on.
“None of them your type?” she asked.
“Honestly, I’m not looking for anything right now. I just want to concentrate on my business.” Just the thought of another man touching me was enough to make me want to throw up. Seven and a half weeks since I’d last seen Sam, and the thought was still unconscionable. My cast was off but my heart still bore the scars of that accident. I wasn’t sure those would ever disappear.
“Duncan has a friend who’d like to meet you. You’d like him.”
“Thanks, but I’m not dating anyone at the moment.” History said that people got over heartbreak and maybe one day I might want to date again, have someone kiss me again, but I couldn’t imagine that day was very close. “Can we drop it?”
“Hey, Grace,” Mark, an artist I’d be featuring soon, said from across the gallery. “I’m done in the back and going to head out.”
I glanced at Scarlett, who was looking at Mark as if he were naked—eyes wide, mouth open. “Okay, did you leave them in order?”
Grinning, he walked over to us. So much for the suffering artist vibe—Mark looked more tickled than tortured. And the way he looked at me was so intense it was uncomfortable—as if I could provide all the answers to the questions he had. “Mark, this is Scarlett. Scarlett, Mark is one of the new artists who’s going to be exhibiting with us.”
“Nice to meet you,” Scarlett said, her eyes sparkling as she held out her hand. Mark shook her hand briefly but all his attention was fixed on me. The old Grace would have loved Mark. He was talented, and although his exhibition at my gallery wouldn’t be his first, he was still relatively undiscovered. And he was handsome in a pretty kind of way, and utterly charming. A few months ago, I would have eaten him up with a spoon. But my appetite had left me.
“Thanks for letting me have input on the curation, Grace, I really appreciate it.”
I smiled, trying to be professional. “No problem. It’s really great to get your view.”
“I was wondering if I could take you to dinner as a thank you?”
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Scarlett raise her eyebrows, and as subtly as she was able, turn her attention to the painting right behind her.
“There’s no need to do that,” I replied. “All part of the job.” I didn’t date guys like Mark anymore. I’d grown up. Experienced what it felt like to have someone really love me. Now I understood the difference between wanting to fix someone and loving them. Even if I’d wanted to, I couldn’t fall back into my old cycle.
He looked genuinely disappointed. “I understand. Let me know if there’s anything you need, otherwise let’s speak next week.”
“Sure,” I said, waving as he left.
Scarlett spun around. “Grace, he is gorgeous. Why on earth did you turn him down? I thought he was just your type.”
Funny how Sam had changed me so completely and fundamentally, yet no one seemed to get it—there wasn’t anyone else for me but Sam.
“No, he’s not my type. Not anymore.”
“Dinner wouldn’t hurt though. A girl’s gotta eat. You might like him if you spent a bit of time with him.”
“I told you; I’m not dating.” The delivery guys came through the door with the next piece.
“I don’t think you should shut yourself off from men completely. It’s been months.”
“Please, Scarlett, I asked you to drop it.”
She tucked her arm around my shoulder. “Sorry. I just want you to be happy.”
“And I appreciate it. So make me happy by telling me what you brought us for lunch. Does it include alcohol?” I asked. “Because I could do with a little buzz to get me through this afternoon.”
She laughed. “Yeah, I’m not sure my employers would be so lenient on me for day drinking.”
“Maybe not. You’re in charge of the money, after all.” I elbowed her in the ribs and she squeezed me tighter before releasing me.
“We’ll have to make do with pine nut, arugula and goat cheese salad.”