by A. M. Kusi
“That’s quite the grip. Nice to meet you,” Griffin said, dropping the handshake and placing his hand on the small of her back to guide her to the car. His touch was warm.
“Call me if you need anything, Isa,” Jax called after her.
She climbed into the black Aston Martin that smelled like new leather straight off the assembly line. Griffin sat on his side and she got a whiff of the spicy cologne he was wearing. It reminded her of Ethan a little bit. If she closed her eyes, maybe she could pretend that it was Ethan sitting beside her. Maybe that would help her feel like all was right in the world, if only for a moment.
“Are you okay?” Griffin asked.
Isa opened her eyes, blinking twice before responding. “Yes. It’s just been a long day.”
“Well, now is your time to sit back and allow me to help you relax,” he said smoothly.
“And talk business,” she reminded him.
He made small talk until they pulled up to the restaurant. The valet opened her door and she climbed out. Griffin’s hand touched her again as he guided her in.
The maître d’ gestured towards double doors leading away from the rest of the tables. “Right this way.”
“Thank you.” Griffin strode forward, confident, but Isa’s feet became leaden. What was going on?
Pop!
The champagne was poured into two glasses on the single table in the center of the small room.
“Isa?” Griffin asked, expectantly holding the chair for her. The maître d’ walked away, her feet a brisk clip against the floorboards.
“This is for us?” Isa asked, surprised he had reserved the private room. She made her way to her seat.
“Why not?” he asked.
“I don’t know if you’ve heard about the falling out I had with my father. It’s important you know up front. I don’t want to get you in trouble for helping me.”
He took a sip from the champagne glass. “I heard something about that. It happens. Family is complicated. I don’t answer to anyone. I’m a man living my own life.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you for understanding.”
The server came back and Griffin ordered for both of them. Isa didn’t care, because she wasn’t hungry anyways. She sipped her champagne, her body warming and relaxing.
“What got you interested in art?” he asked.
She took a drink of the sparkling liquid, buying herself some time to find an appropriate answer. “I received my first set of paints as a kid from one of my nannies. I’ve been hooked ever since.”
“Love at first stroke, huh?” He chuckled.
“Something like that.” She forced a smile.
“So you want to do this professionally? Make a living as an artist?” he asked.
She swallowed her insecurities and nodded. “That’s the dream.”
And it was, though she had never voiced it as such. She wanted to create and share that with people who would appreciate the raw emotion, the beauty, and the heart she poured into her pieces.
A server appeared, setting their artistically plated dinners in front of each of them. A filet mignon for him, with roasted potatoes and veggies, and a salmon pasta dish for her.
“I found a gallery ready to give you a shot. The curator there is a friend of mine; she’s willing to let you show one of your paintings to see how it goes and they also need someone to help with overseeing the installments,” he said before taking a bite of his steak.
“Really?” She smiled.
Isa felt her first burst of hope and happiness since everything had happened. It was immediately followed by sadness, because she couldn’t tell the one person she wanted to.
“Yes. You can stop by Monday. It’s on Bleaker. Ask for Erin.” He grinned.
“Griffin, I don’t even know what to say. Thank you so much!” she said excitedly, and they ate the rest of their meals.
Griffin seemed like a good man. He was willing to help her, and he didn’t seem to be expecting anything in return. If she was still the person she’d been before she met Ethan, she would probably be asking for the check so they could go back to his house and celebrate with no-strings-attached sex.
The thought of anyone else touching her made her sick to her stomach. Regret and emptiness would be sure to follow. She needed some time by herself, just being Isa and making her way in the world on her own. She hoped she didn’t fall into the old patterns of letting someone else take care of her.
“I think we should get going. Jax and Harper will be waiting up for me,” she said glancing back to her barely touched plate of food.
“Not your boyfriend?” he asked, getting the server’s attention.
It was suddenly hard to breathe again, as she fought the sting of tears. “We . . . we broke up,” she admitted.
“I won’t lie and tell you I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sorry you’re hurting though.” His handsome face stared back at her.
“Thanks for the honesty.”
“I’m an honest man.” He smirked, handing his card to the server.
When they arrived at Harper’s house, she turned to thank him. He unbuckled and leaned over in one quick move, his lips meeting hers. Isa froze with shock, but the alcohol had dulled her senses. He wrapped his hand around her neck, pulling her farther into his kiss. Why was he kissing her? Had she given him any reason to think she wanted this? Her stomach knotted as everything in her body screamed to move away. She reared back, finally reacting, but his hand held her firmly in place. His mouth was demanding as he made his intentions clear. He tasted like champagne and dark chaos. He felt wrong.
She pressed her hands to his chest and pushed him away. He backed off immediately this time and looked at her with lust-filled eyes. “I know you need some time, but I wanted to make it clear that I’m interested in you.”
“I-I do need time. Thank you for everything,” she said, scurrying out of his car, unsure of what else to do. The old Isa would have stayed in the car and explored this connection, doing whatever it took to forget and take a moment’s pleasure. The new Isa was heartbroken and knew nothing would compare to what she’d shared with Ethan. Everyone else was second-rate. Everything else was an imitation.
She opened the door and saw Jax standing by the window.
“What?” she asked, annoyed and embarrassed. He’d probably seen the kiss, but it wasn’t like she had wanted it. She’d moved away.
His arms were crossed over his chest and his jaw was clenched. “Are you okay?”
“He kissed me out of nowhere. I pushed him away.”
He nodded sadly.
She sighed and went upstairs to her temporary bedroom before pulling off her shoes. Changing into a T-shirt, Isa slipped beneath the covers before she cried herself to sleep.
Chapter 30
Ethan was cleaning up the spilled milk when he heard the knock at his door. He ran a hand across his face, feeling the weeks’ worth of growth that he couldn’t find the energy to trim. Max was sleeping, thankfully, but Joy’s crying was probably going to wake the baby at any moment.
The knock sounded again. Ethan opened the front door, squinting at the sunlight that he hadn’t seen in days. He’d called in sick from work for the last three so he could stay in bed all day while his mom had watched the kids. She didn’t know he hadn’t gone in, or at least she hadn’t asked him if he had.
Jax was standing on his porch, studying him like he could see right through him. Ethan expected him to make some smart-ass comment about how he looked like shit. Instead, his friend walked in and shut the door before he pulled Ethan into a tight hug, patting his back a few times. Jax released him and went over to Joy and picked her up. She was so distracted by the fact that a man she hadn’t met was holding her that she quieted immediately, looking towards Ethan for an explanation.
“Hey, kiddo.�
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“Uncle Jax?” she asked, sniffling.
“Yup.”
Joy’s eyes brightened. “Is Harper here so we can make cookies with her and Isa again?”
“Not this time. Why don’t you tell me why you are so sad?”
“I miss Isa, but she is on a trip.”
Jax’s expression softened as he glanced Ethan’s way. Visceral pain lashed in his chest whenever Joy said Isa’s name. He was exhausted, and angry, and hurt. Ethan was mad at his sister for leaving him with the kids. He couldn’t even fall apart after his heart had been shattered by the woman he loved and who he’d thought loved him.
How could he have been so wrong about her? He was livid at himself for being angry at his dead sister. Dead. Abby was gone, forever. Isa was gone. He had two little lives depending on his ability to not fall apart. But he wasn’t alone. Jax being here only proved that.
“We can try to FaceTime her,” Ethan said, his voice like gravel.
Jax looked at him, surprised.
“Yes!” Joy beamed.
“I mean, I don’t know what time it is there. She might be sleeping,” he explained, wondering if she was sleeping alone or if she had moved on from what they’d shared so quickly. His stomach roiled at the thought. There was no way she’d been pretending she loved him. When crisis hit, she’d been by his side . . . until everything had happened with their families.
“I’m sure she will be awake,” Jax said, turning away from Ethan. Jax pulled out his phone and called Isa. Ethan made sure he was out of view of the camera; he couldn’t afford to see her face. If she was as broken as he was, it would fill him with hope that he couldn’t afford. If she was unaffected, it would kill him.
“Hello?” she asked. Her voice sounded hoarse. Had she been crying?
“Hey,” Jax answered. “I have a little girl here who would like to talk to you, if you have time from all your busy activities in Europe.” He enunciated the word like he was sending her some sort of secret signal. Ethan held his breath. Would she keep her promise to Joy? Or had she played the kids too?
“Oh”—she rustled the phone around—“of course!”
Ethan sighed in relief.
“Isa?” Joy asked as Jax brought the phone in front of her.
“Hey, baby girl. I miss you.”
“I miss you too,” Joy said.
“Have you been crying?” Isa asked.
“Yes. I’m so sad. I miss you so much.”
“I miss you so much too, honey. Have you been painting?” Isa’s voice trembled.
“No.”
“Well, try that. You promised me you would, remember?”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot.”
“How’s Max?” Isa asked.
“He’s good. He’s taking his nap.”
“Give him a kiss for me,” she said.
“I’ll have Uncle Ethan paint with me because he’s sad too,” Joy said, sending a bolt of fear through Ethan’s body. He tensed, waiting to hear Isa’s response.
“I’m sure he would love something that you painted. Maybe some extra snuggles too.” Her voice cracked. “Joy, I have to go now. I’ll talk to you again soon, okay?”
“Okay. Love you, Isa.” Joy waved.
“Love you too,” Isa said, and he could hear the sorrow in her voice.
He was glad to know she was just as miserable as he was, but he hated the fact that she was in pain at the same time.
Joy was in a better mood after her phone call with Isa. She asked for his help to get her paint supplies out and got to work.
Jax stayed for a couple of hours, playing with the kids. When they were busy eating their dinner, he got ready to leave. “E?” he asked.
“Yeah?”
“I just want you to know, you are not alone. You can call me anytime.”
“I know, man. Thank you. I really appreciate it.”
Jax nodded and grabbed his coat.
“Did she call Harper?” Ethan asked, embarrassed by his weakness the moment the question left his lips.
Jax hesitated before he answered, “Yeah. She’s just as wrecked as you are.”
“Then why did she go before we could take a minute and figure it out?” he snapped.
“Look, man. I think that’s something you need to talk to her about,” Jax said.
“Right, well, there’s an ocean separating us right now.”
Jax looked away, rubbing the back of his neck as he responded, “I don’t think the distance between you and her is as wide as you think.” Jax opened the front door, letting a cold gust of wind in. It had started snowing. “Call me if you need anything,” he said, walking off to his car.
I need the other half of my soul that she took with her.
***
After the call with Joy, Isa spent the weekend locked in her room, painting. Needing an outlet for all this pain she held inside, Isa decided to take her own advice. She thought of Joy as she swiped the paintbrush across the canvas, leaving a trail of red, hoping the young girl wasn’t missing her too much anymore. Dipping a fresh brush into the yellow, she remembered Max’s smiles and wobbly steps. And she added shades of blue for the man who was a part of her.
Her heart felt a little better with each vibrant color of memory transferred to the canvas. She painted the happiness and bliss they had shared. The pain and grief adding shadows and angles. The affection that had grown from a tiny seed, sprouting and rooting in her heart. The empty hollows that were left from risking it all for love. She put everything she had remaining into the piece, hoping that it would show through. By the time she was done, she had paint splatters on her clothes and arms. Art was messy, but so was transformation.
The next Monday, Isa went to meet Erin at The Paint Gallery. Erin was more than happy to show her around and explain the duties they expected her to perform to help with overseeing the installments. Isa brought in one of her pieces—the one she had painted after speaking with Joy.
She pulled away the cloth as Erin gasped. Isa studied the woman’s face, unsure if this was a good or bad response.
“This is perfect,” Erin said, brushing her blond curls from her shoulder. “Griffin said you were talented, but I wasn’t expecting this.”
“Thank you.” Isa smiled, focusing back on her work. The light in the room accentuated each color, bringing it to life even more.
“We will hang it in the featured section. What is your asking price?”
Isa panicked, not knowing how she should value her work. “I—I’m not sure. What would you recommend?”
“For this? As a new artist, I would start at a thousand. If you do a bigger piece next time, you can charge more.”
A thousand dollars for one painting? Isa was floored. “Sounds good,” she quickly agreed.
Isa was there when the potential buyer saw her piece for the first time. The woman’s eyes welled with tears as she pointed towards it, speaking to the man next to her.
Isa held her breath. Please, please, please.
The man nodded, and as he spoke to Erin, she heard that fateful word. Sold.
Amazing. She’d dreamed of this for so long. This was everything.
But you’re giving up a piece of yourself.
Isa quieted the voice inside her. She needed this money to live.
Erin asked her for more pieces, which she happily supplied. Within three weeks, she had three thousand dollars.
Isa found a small apartment that was a far cry from anything she had ever known in a sketchy part of the city. The whole apartment was about as big as her closet in her previous home, but at least it was hers. She had to do this on her own. Isa would prove to herself that she wasn’t what her parents believed. She could be independent and take care of herself.
Harper and Jax helped her move in the week before Christmas.
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“I don’t like this place; it doesn’t seem safe,” Jax said, eying the flimsy lock on the scuffed-up door. It was a second-floor apartment in a building that smelled like shrimp, ramen noodles, and weed.
The metal cupboards were chipped and the three windows cracked. It wasn’t much, but it was all she could afford. How far the mighty had fallen. If her parents saw her now, they would laugh. It didn’t matter though. This was just her beginning. Everyone had to start somewhere. For her it just happened to be rock bottom.
“The light in this room is perfect for my work, and it doesn’t have to be pretty.” A small twin mattress lay on the linoleum floor of the bedroom. The whole apartment had it, and though she thought it odd, she was grateful it wasn’t carpet and that it was clean.
“Here,” Harper said, handing her a small gift bag.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Call it a housewarming gift.”
Isa pulled out a shiny pink metal object before holding it up to Harper, confused.
“It’s a Taser for your protection,” Harper explained.
“Oh!” Isa smiled. It did make her feel better knowing she had a weapon to keep herself safe walking to and from the bus stop.
“Nothing says stay away from me quite like this bright pink dildo-looking Taser.” Jax chuckled.
***
She poured her energy into her creations. Using some of the money for supplies, she understood what it truly meant to watch every dollar for the first time in her life.
Griffin stopped by the gallery a few times, saying hello to her, but mostly speaking with Erin about business.
Things were looking up for her professionally. She was a real artist now, having had patrons pay her money for her paintings—a lot of money.
Her phone rang one evening and she was surprised to see Liam’s name appear on the caller ID.
“Hello?” she asked, steeling herself, unsure of what her brother could possibly be calling her about.
“Hey, I need to see you,” he said.
She was intrigued. What could her brother possibly want to see her about?
