by Hart, Rye
“I’m just glad you’re here,” I said.
She walked over to me and wrapped her arms around my neck. I buried my face in her hair, taking in her scent. I could smell the dust from her cabin on her, and I made a mental note to ask about the condition of it later. But for right now, I would settle for helping her make the cinnamon rolls.
We danced around one another in the kitchen like we’d been doing it for years. I was cooking up some eggs while she cracked open the cinnamon rolls. Then I cooked up the last of the bacon. I needed to make another grocery run in town, but that would have to wait for a different day.
“Brian, could I ask you a question?”
Her voice seemed smaller. Like she wasn’t quite sure she should ask what she was about to.
“Of course you can. We’re about to get married. You can ask me anything,” I said, grinning.
“Could you tell me about your ex?”
I felt my body tense up at her question before I drew in a deep breath.
“I figured that was coming. Especially after last night,” I said.
“If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to.”
“No, no. It’s only fair,” I said.
I moved the bacon off the burner and started draining the grease into a can.
“She really left a dent in me,” I said.
“What happened between you two?”
“A lot of things. What prompted the divorce was her cheating,” I said. “I thought it was just the guy I caught her with, but it came to light eventually that there had been more.”
“How many more?” she asked.
“Enough to span the entirety of our marriage.”
I felt her gaze fall onto me as I spooned eggs onto plates for all of us to eat.
“That’s messed up,” she said.
“It was. I met her when I was in foster care. My sister and I bounced around from home to home, until we came to the end of the line; the last place that would take us in. She was there, too. It’s how we met.”
Amanda put the cinnamon rolls in the oven, then made her way toward me.
“Foster care was hell. Families don’t give a shit about those kids. But Rachel? She cared. We were inseparable. She loved me when no one else would. At least, I thought she did.”
“Brian, I’m so sorry,” Amanda said.
“I caught her cheating on our anniversary, of all days. I told her right then and there I wanted a divorce. She raked me over the coals in court. She was the one that cheated, and broke our vows, but she got to walk away with almost half of everything. She drained me. Bank, brain, heart. And it sent me here.”
I felt Amanda’s arms wrap around my waist as I turned to her. I pulled her into me, her head settling into the divot of my chest. I closed my eyes and sighed, feeling her lips press a chaste kiss onto my bare skin. Her warmth was encompassing, comforting, especially when I talked about things like this.
“I have trust issues,” I said.
“I’d be surprised if you didn’t,” Amanda said. “Are we still heading to the courthouse today? To get things settled on that end?”
“Is that what the dress hanging up in the living room is for?” I asked.
“Yes. It’s the only one I have right now, but it has matching shoes.”
“It’s a beautiful dress.”
“Thanks,” she said.
“Unfortunately, I woke up to a message from Tanya. One of her boys is sick, and she’s at the doctor with him. She won’t be able to come back in until he’s taken care of, which might push things into next week.”
“That’s fine. As long as that doesn’t jeopardize anything with Lanie.”
“It shouldn’t. We don’t have to have the paperwork ready until the first date of court, and my lawyer doesn’t have a date for me yet. As far as I’m concerned, we’re still doing well.”
“Sounds good to me,” Amanda said.
“Morning.”
Lanie’s voice caused Amanda to jump back.
“Morning, sweetie,” I said. “You ready for some breakfast?”
“Milk?” Lanie asked.
“Coming right up.”
The three of us sat down to eat breakfast while talking about what we would do for the day. Lanie wanted to get outside since she’d been cooped up because of the cold, but Amanda tried to sway her away from it. Lanie was insistent. Amanda tried to bargain, and in the end, Amanda caved to Lanie’s wishes. I grinned as the two of them went back and forth with each other, studying them as I ate my eggs.
They fit each other well. If no one knew any better, I’d almost think Amanda was her mother.
“Oh. Hold on.”
I watched Amanda pull her phone from her pocket before she left the kitchen table. She took the call down the hallway as Lanie craned her neck back, and I trained my ears onto the conversation. She wasn’t doing much of the talking, but the talking she was doing sounded upbeat. She came back a few minutes later with a massive smile on her face, and I readied myself for whatever good news she had to share.
This house needed some good news after all the shit it had seen.
“You’ll never guess who that was,” Amanda said.
“I won’t. So you should probably tell me,” I said.
“That was the owner of Gleeson’s Galleries here in Asheville.”
“I like where this is going,” I said.
“I have a meeting tomorrow morning to discuss them hanging my artwork!”
I got up from the table and wrapped Amanda in my arms. She looked so happy, and my chest swelled with pride. I spun her around as she clung to me while Lanie clapped her hands in her seat. Everything inside of me wanted to kiss her, but I held myself back since Lanie was at the table with us.
Neither of us was still sure of how to go about any of this with my niece, so we were keeping it out of her sight for now.
“That’s incredible, Amanda. I’m so happy for you.”
Then, my phone rang. And when my phone rang nowadays, it was never good.
“Fuck. Hold on,” I said.
“Fuck!” Lanie exclaimed.
“Oh, no no no, honey. We don’t say that word,” Amanda said.
“But Uncle Bwian said it.”
“And that’s why Uncle Brian’s about to go into timeout. Because that’s what happens when we say words like that.”
Amanda nodded her head toward the hallway, and I was in awe of her. Lanie’s eyes were welling with tears as she apologized, and in the same breath, Amanda had given me an out to take this phone call. She was easily slipping into this role, and I had to take a moment and remind myself that it wasn’t real.
“Please tell me you have good news,” I said.
“Yes and no. The first court date has been set for Tuesday,” my lawyer said.
“Shit.”
“Please tell me the two of you have tied the knot. I need that paperwork in the system by Monday at the very latest,” he said.
“We’ve got this. Don’t worry. It’ll be in the system by Monday, I promise,” I said.
“Good. I’ll need some fun pictures of it, too. Anything to make it look authentic. The less it looks like an arrangement just to sway the judge, the better. He needs to see a happy, loving home, not two strangers married for the sake of court.” .”
“Yes. You’ll have them,” I said.
“I’ll call you Monday just to remind you, but it’s Tuesday at ten in the morning.”
“I won’t forget. I promise,” I said.
“You better not. Have you heard from your P.I.?”
“Nope. Have you?”
“Not since we originally talked a couple days ago. If you hear from him, call me,” he said.
“Will do.”
I turned around and saw Amanda standing at the end of the hallway. Lanie was finishing up her breakfast and chugging her milk, making a massive mess for us to clean up. Amanda slowly walked toward me as I tossed my phone into my room, letting it tumble of
f of the bed and onto the floor.
“The court date’s Tuesday morning,” I said. “We have to do this before then.”
“We’ll get it done,” she said. “I promise.”
“The paperwork has to be in the system by Monday. Do you think we should tell Lanie what’s going on and take her with us?”
“We’ve got this. Don’t stress yourself out. Everything is going to be okay.”
Her hands were warm against my chest, and I could feel myself relaxing underneath her touch. Her lips brushed my skin, sending electricity surging through my chest. I kept my eyes on Lanie, making sure she wouldn’t turn around and catch us.
And when I knew Lanie was secured, I dipped down and caught Amanda’s lips within mine.
“Stay with us today?” I asked.
“Were you planning on kicking me out?” she asked, grinning.
“Nope.”
“Good. Because I wasn’t planning on leaving,” she said.
I pulled her into me and held her close as I tried to settle my mind. Everything felt like it was about to spiral out of control again. So many balls were up in the air, and I only had so many hands. Even with Amanda helping me volley some of this stuff, it was still getting to be too much.
But feeling this beautiful woman against my skin helped to calm me. And I wasn’t sure what I was going to do without her once this was all over.
“I’m proud of you. With the art gallery,” I said. “I didn’t even know you were submitting your artwork to places in town.”
“I do have a life when I’m not here, you know,” she said.
“I just figured you would’ve mentioned it, is all.”
“Do you want me to tell you about that kind of stuff?”
She tilted her gaze up to mine, and it prompted me to cup her cheek.
“Yes,” I said.
“Then, I will,” she said, smiling.
“More?” Lanie asked.
Amanda jumped away from me as her eyes widened. She whipped her head around and looked at Lanie, sighing with relief when she saw the little girl was still turned around. I hated that we were hiding this from Lanie I wanted Lanie to see two people enjoying each other. I wanted her to see that she could have this type of respect from another person.
It angered me that we had to hide this. To protect her from something that felt so real and innocent.
But it wasn’t real. It wasn’t innocent. And as Amanda walked down the hallway to tend to Lanie, my stomach settled down into my toes.
I was in deep trouble.
CHAPTER 21
Amanda
I was ecstatic for my gallery meeting. I took time piecing myself together, choosing the right outfit and dusting a bit of makeup on. I dug out my portfolio from one of my suitcases I still hadn’t touched, sighing as I opened it. This was it. I had been calling galleries all over the mountainous cities. I was evening calling as far east as Raleigh, trying to find a gallery that was interested in hanging my artwork. This was the only connection that had panned out into an interview, and I was a nervous wreck.
A knock came at my door as I grabbed my coat. I stuck my arms into it as I reached for the doorknob, and smiled when I saw Brian and Lanie standing there. The little girl launched herself into my arms, giggling and smiling as she held me close. Brian was standing there with an exasperated stare on his face, and I reached out for his hand as I held Lanie.
“She wanted to come over and see you before you left,” Brian said.
“And what about you?” I asked.
He bent down and placed a light kiss on the top of my hand as Lanie laid her head on my shoulder.
“Good luck,” Brian said.
“Thanks.”
I gave them both one last hug, then I headed into town. I was rehearsing all the questions I could possibly be asked, making sure I had all the right answers that pertained to me and my style of artwork. I wasn’t willing to sell something that wasn’t my style to get this gallery showing, but when I got there, I found myself in for more than I bargained for.
“Oh, you’re selling the gallery?” I asked.
“I am,” the owner asked. “Isn’t that why you called?”
“Honestly? I thought you were looking to showcase someone’s artwork. But, I’ve always had dreams of having my own gallery one day. Could I still take a look around?” I asked.
“Sure, help yourself.”
The gallery owner seemed flustered. He was running around, trying to pack things up and slash prices. Boxes were strewn about in corners as he patched holes in the walls, sweat dripping down his trembling brow. The space was nice. Clean and simple, with plenty of wall space to hang artwork. There was a cash register area in the back along with a section of the space that was quartered off with another wall.
“What’s back there?” I asked.
“I use it for storage, but the person who owned this place before I did used it as a small showroom. They blew glass, and they kept their more delicate pieces back there so kids wouldn’t get to them easily,” he said.
“Makes sense.”
“So, a few questions.”
“Okay. Shoot,” I said.
“Why do you want an art gallery?” The question caught me off guard. None of the questions I practiced in my head were going to do me any good in this scenario. I racked my brain to try and piece my answer together as images of my ex came flooding back to my mind. Memories of him telling me to stop chasing my idiotic dream and memories of him snickering at my artwork whenever I was finished. I could feel the pain of his existence wafting through my body all over again, and I had to swallow deep to keep my tears at bay.
“Everyone has a place in this world. Their life. Their passions. Their expression of art. All of it has a place. I want to find mine,” I said.
“So you want a gallery to find yourself?” the owner asked.
“No. I want a gallery because I want to show people in my life that my artwork has a place in a community that would love it for what it is.”
“What type of artwork do you specialize in?” he asked.
“Anything that sends shivers down my arms. A scene or a moment. An emotion or a dream. A painting is simply a snapshot of what moves us. But it’s the emotion behind the painting that brings it to life. I want to fill my own gallery with life.”
I could see him grinning out of the corner of my eye as I lost myself in my mind.
“If I sold you this gallery, what would you do with it?” he asked.
I panned my gaze over to him before a small grin crept across my face.
“The walls would be lined with artwork, but not that one. The wall that serves to quarter off that space would be reserved for local artists who want to showcase their work. That little room back there would be a small store. Small paint tubes and canvases and brushes. I’d want to hold art classes of all sorts. Those wine-and-paint programs, things for children, maybe therapy classes to help those struggling with depression or anxiety. I want it to be a community place. A place where people can come and enjoy, or they can come and do. May I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” he said.
“Why are you interviewing people to buy this property?” I asked.
“I want to make sure it’s sold to the right person. It took me years to convince this city that an art gallery could do it some good. The only reason I’m selling it is because I’m getting older and my arthritis is getting worse.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” I said.
“It is what it is, but I won’t sell this space until I can find another gallery owner to take it. And the right one at that. It took me too long to sell this idea to the community. I’m not letting it go that easily. I’ve seen the power of art. I watched children in this area grow up as they came in and out of my shop. I’ve hired some of them to work part-time in the summers, and I taught them about all the wonderful artists of history. I can’t let that be buried. I won’t.”
His passion brought
tears to my eyes. It had been so long since I’d stood in the presence of somebody who was as passionate about art as I was. I hadn’t been looking for a gallery to purchase. I wasn’t even in the position to purchase one. But the more I stood and talked with this man, the more at home I felt with it. The more he talked and the more I listened, the more I figured out that I was standing in the middle of something I didn’t know I needed.
“I really like your vision and the path you’re on,” he said. “I’ll keep your information and give you a call. I have one more person to talk to about this place.”
“Wonderful. I hope to hear from you soon,” I said.
I took my leave and walked out. Now, I found myself hoping he would call. I still had no fucking idea how I would be able to buy a space like this, but I figured it if was meant to be I could go from there. I kept thinking about all the paintings I would hang and all the classes I could advertise. I thought about what it would be like to settle down in this area and live in my grandmother’s cabin for the rest of my life. I breathed in the fresh mountain air as I pulled my coat around my body, then I was halted in my tracks when I ran full steam into someone on the sidewalk.
“Oh, my gosh. I’m so sorry,” I said. “I must’ve just been in my head and not paying attention.”
I looked up at who I’d run into, and I saw my ex staring down at me.
“I see you still have that nasty habit as well,” Daryl said, grinning.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I asked flatly. “I thought you left.”
“I wanted to talk with you alone,” he said. “Without your boyfriend around.”
“Fiance,” I said.
“Funny, since I don’t see a ring on your finger.”
I looked down at my hand before I shoved it into my coat pocket.
“Please, can we talk?” Daryl asked.
“I told you. I don’t want to talk to you. Go home. Go back to your life,” I said.
“Not unless you’re coming with me.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you, Daryl. You never supported me, only beat me down and told me how stupid my art and my ideas were. You’re an elitist snob.”
