Love in Colour

by JA Low

  “I see colours again, Daniel.”

  “That is good.”

  “But I want more.”

  “More?” Daniel asks.

  “I love art. But after everything I’ve been through I realise I want more in my life.”

  “But art is your life,” Daniel adds.

  “I know it is. But I’m not getting any younger, Daniel. Sometime in the future I would like to think about having a family, having something more than art because I won’t always be the best, there will always be a new up and coming artist hungry for my title.”

  “Who the hell are you and what have you done with my brother?” This makes me chuckle.

  “I don’t know. Losing everything kind of makes you work out what is important to you and what you thought was the most important thing in your life may not be what you thought it was.”

  “Have you fallen in love, Louis?” Daniel asks tentatively.

  “No, not yet. But I think Emily is special. And maybe I should take the time to find out if we could be more.”

  “As long as you get me enough paintings for New York which is in five weeks then I don’t care what you do. Just try not to break her heart, Louis.”

  “I don’t plan on it.”

  “Most people don’t plan on it but they do.” And with that he hangs up, giving me some food for thought.

  “I’m so excited.” Emily grins as we make our way from the private airport to my villa in Ibiza. Jumping into my old convertible, I throw our bags into the trunk, giving Emily a kiss as I close her door. The smile that forms on her face quickens my heartbeat. I jump in beside her, taking her hand in mind and giving it a kiss before speeding off into the Mediterranean sunshine.

  “It’s so beautiful,” Emily marvels as we drive along the windy, rocky coastline of the island.

  “It’s been too long.” We soak in all the warmth the Ibiza sun pours over us. Emily’s strawberry blonde hair is blowing around her like golden spun silk, her eyes are closed, her creamy skin turning a light shade of pink, a smile curved against her rose coloured lips. I try and commit that image to my memory, Emily looking so carefree and relaxed.

  A little while later we are pulling into my whitewashed villa, it’s been way too long since I have been back here. Thankfully, I got the manager to air it out before we came, also asked them to fill up the cupboards with food and of course wine. I want Emily to relax and enjoy her time here. Emily’s emerald eyes take in the villa, it isn’t as grand as my home in the South of France, it’s simple, but it has everything you need, and a view to behold. The view is the reason I bought this little shack on the coast. Once you step through those front doors, the turquoise blue of the Mediterranean calls you to her.

  “Louis,” Emily whispers my name in awe. That is the exact reaction I had when I first saw what was hidden behind the front door.

  “I know, it’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Emily rushes to the edge of the balcony, the land below falls away as the home hugs the rocky cliffs. The pool is on the next level; it juts out over the cliff like a white springboard to the ocean below it. You can’t tell where the ocean and the sky begin because they are the same colours.

  “This is paradise, Louis.” Emily squints staring into infinity. I move in behind wrapping myself around her, she leans back into me.

  “I’m glad you like it here.”

  “I love it.” She turns to me. “How could anyone not?” I can see it on her face, she means it.

  “Elisabeth didn’t.” Emily freezes. I didn’t mean to bring my ex up, it kind of just came out. “I…sorry…” Emily shakes her head.

  “Don’t ever feel bad mentioning her, Louis. I’m a big girl I can handle it. She was a very big part of your life.” Fuck. How did I get so lucky with this woman? I kiss her cheek.

  “She said this house was too simple for people like us,” I huff. Emily is silent for a couple of moments.

  “Simple can be good,” she tells me. I stare out into the horizon, my stomach somersaulting as she agrees with me. My arms tighten around her; I don’t think I want to let this woman go.

  “I want a simple life,” I tell her. “I’ve had the other and honestly I don’t want that anymore.” I hope that maybe she too wants that life. I hope she’s not interested in the glitz and glamour of the international art world. Emily absently nods in agreement.

  “What do you want?” I ask. Please say the simple life. Please. I try and telepathically tell her. Emily is quiet as she thinks over my question.

  “I want someone to love me for me.” Her confession is a direct arrow to the chest. “To accept me for who I am.” I turn her in my arms and look down at her.

  “I accept you for you.” I hope she understands that I have feelings for her. Emily’s eyes glisten. I didn’t mean to get so deep so quickly, I thought maybe we would discuss things when we were drunk not stone cold sober. “I’m glad I’m sharing this all with you.” This makes her smile.

  “Me too. I don’t know if I will want to leave. This place is paradise. You might be stuck with me,” Emily jokes.

  “Here’s hoping,” I tell her. She sucks in a breath.

  “You’re saying all the right things.” Her arms wrap around my waist.

  “They’re not just words, Emily.”

  “I know, Louis, and that’s what scares me.” I frown a little at her comment. Maybe I’m coming on too strong, it’s the artist in me. I’m a passionate kind of guy, maybe I can be a little intense.

  “Come on. That pool looks inviting.” I change the subject, relief washes over Emily’s face at the sudden change of conversation. “Let’s see if we can recreate the first night we met, but this time with a very different outcome.” I grab her and swing her over my shoulder making her squeal. My long legs eat up the distance from the balcony to the pool.

  “Louis, no!” Emily screams as I launch us into the water fully clothed. She comes spluttering up, she's wearing a thin sundress and it instantly becomes see-through. I can see her white bra underneath and that too is giving everything away, those perfect rose nipples are on show. I pull her to me and kiss her hungrily. Her protests die quickly as she pulls me to her. I start to pull off my soaking t-shirt and throw it to the side, it lands with a thud, her dress joins it, as does my shorts, then our underwear. Emily wraps her legs around my waist as I move her through the water, I place her bottom on the hot tiles and she hisses at the sudden heat, but then her lips are on mine again, her legs opening for me as I slide between them, the perfect angle to slip right inside of her. We hiss at the connection, we need it. We move in unison as I make love to her on the side of my pool, the sunshine all around us, in one of my favourite places in the world, the place that makes me feel the freest I have ever been. My sanctuary, and now I have found someone I want to share it with, to appreciate it, to enjoy it with.

  “I’m falling for you, Emily,” I tell her as I push inside her deeper, needing that connection, needing to show her what she means to me.

  “I know.” She smiles up at me before I push her over the edge in ecstasy.

  We moved our love making from the pool to inside. Emily’s skin isn’t really used to the bright Mediterranean sun, the longer we stayed outside the brighter shade of pink her skin glowed. I carried her lifeless body to my bedroom where I tried to revive her with my dick. It worked for a while until she passed out after another round of orgasms. Being back here in a place I never tainted has inspired me, so I reluctantly leave my strawberry goddess asleep in my bed and make my way to my studio. Opening the door, a wave of nostalgia, inspiration and freedom hits me. I see old pieces and products from at least a decade ago, some of my first paintings. My fingers run along the thick paint drops, hoping they will inject me with new life, new inspiration, help me find the new Louis Marchant. The next thing I know I am grabbing a canvas, opening the windows to the studio which look out over the ocean, my hands move on their own, muscle memory taking over as I grab my brushes and pour out the paint that I n
eed. For the next couple of hours, I lose myself in my work.

  “There you are.” Emily’s voice makes me jump. I turn and see her standing like a dishevelled angel at my doorway, her hair is pulled up in a messy ponytail, she’s wearing one of my t-shirts and her feet are bare. “You’re painting.” Those green eyes widening as she takes in the canvases I’ve been working on. She steps into my space and looks over my work. I suck in a breath, wondering what she is thinking, as they are a little different to what I have been doing.

  “You’re using the colours of Ibiza.” How did she see that? “The whites of the villas, the greens of the gardens, the browns of the stones, the blue of the ocean.” I nod. “These are perfect, Louis. The perfect balance between your angrier, demonic phase” She gives me a smirk “to your older brighter colours. You should be so proud.” She understands. I rush toward her and kiss her.

  “You get it.” I hold her face. “You get me.”

  “I try.” She gives me a shy smile.

  “Then paint with me.” My hands fall down beside me as I walk over grabbing a new canvas.

  “No. I can’t.” She shakes her head.

  “Why not? You told you used to paint.”

  “Yes. That was a long time ago. I can’t anymore. I’m not very good.”

  “So what? You’re not painting for the Louvre; you’re painting for me.” She shakes her head again this time forcibly. “Please.”

  “No.” Her answer is definite, those emerald eyes sparkle with tears, she turns on her heel and rushes away from my studio.

  “Emily. Emily, wait,” I call after her.

  “Don’t, Louis. Please, just don’t.” She waves me away, my steps slow, I let her go. I don’t want to push her any more than I have. I’ve triggered something and I didn’t mean too.

  25

  Emily

  “I’m so embarrassed,” I cry into the phone to Ava.

  “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. Just talk to him, Emmy. Tell him. It sounds like he wants to help.”

  “But he is Louis Marchant, he’s a genius,” I moan.

  “Um, he is also your boyfriend,” she tells me.

  “Well, he hasn’t asked me to be his girlfriend, so I don’t know.” I sniffle.

  “He’s asked you to be exclusive, he’s told you he’s falling for you. He’s whisked you away to Ibiza. Yeah, I’m totally calling boyfriend material.”

  “Anyway…” I try to change the subject.

  “Anyway,” she repeats. “Don’t forget you helped him find his way back to whatever genius art he used to do and it sounds like he just wants to help you find your art again.”

  “But I’m crap.”

  “No you’re not. What was crap was Toby and his negativity about your painting. He killed your creativity. He took so much from you, Ems, he dulled your spirit, your fire. We never said anything because we thought you were happy, but Toby changed you. And ever since you have been in France we can see the old Emily coming back. The fun loving, carefree girl you once were.” Tears fall down my cheeks.

  “Did I change that much?”

  “It was gradual. But he dulled your sparkle and now, now we can see that your sparkle has come back, so why not make yourself shine again.” Ava’s words ring true. “Toby wanted the limelight to be on him, he liked having power over you. He liked that you needed him. That you relied on him. That he called the shots. He was like your dad.” That hit too close to home.

  “Shit. You’re right.” I’ve known Ava, Rosie and Georgia all my life, we grew up in a little coastal town down in the South of England, where everyone knew everyone and that was generations after generations. Not many people left the village, people became farmers, fisherman or housewives. That’s not what any of us girls wanted, so as soon as we could we all left the village. I thought I hit the jackpot when I met Toby, this rich, well-travelled guy. The guy all the girls wanted, because he was a catch. We were opposites, from our backgrounds, to our interests. Was I that desperate to not be alone that I let myself fall for someone who was exactly what I was escaping. Someone like my father who hated art, who despised anything that he didn’t understand, that wasn’t in his norm. Like my mother, falling for someone exotic was against my father’s norm, and because that didn’t work out anything that he didn’t understand he forbid it. Hence why I kept my French and art hidden until he passed.

  “You don’t have to be the best, Emily. You just need to try. You need to find your passion again.”

  “You’re right, Ava. You’re so right. I let Toby’s irritation ruin my love of art. I let my passion die. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t ever get an art job, because I was no longer passionate.”

  “I think you might be right,” she agrees.

  “God, I miss you guys so much.”

  “We miss you too, but you’re hardly alone. Hello, hot French artist. Paint me like one of your French ladies, Jack,” Ava quotes Titanic and it makes me laugh. “Just have fun, Emmy. You deserve it. You deserve him. The photos you have posted of the two of you on Insta, you can see the spark between you two. You look good together.”

  “He’s so out of my league, Ava.” She huffs at me. “Have you seen his ex? She is a bloody supermodel.”

  “Do you even see yourself, Emily. You are beautiful too.”

  “But I’m not sexy.” I pout.

  “Pull yourself together. A hot, French artist, with a giant dick.” Huh, what the? “I saw your post; the world saw it. Holy hell that’s a big paintbrush he has,” Ava giggles. “He’s whisked you away to his special place in Ibiza, he’s painting again, he wants you to join him in making art together and that’s not a metaphor for sex, which I know you have been having heaps of. Bitch! He wants to make art, art with you. Forget about everything else.” Wow, I would expect a pep talk like this from Rosie or Georgia but not from Ava, I like it. Maybe I need to start having a little more confidence in myself.

  “I love you, Avie.”

  “I love you too, Ems. Now go jump that hot man and take one for the team.” I agree and hang up smiling. Louis pops his head into the bedroom.

  “Hey. I wasn’t eavesdropping.” Guilt is written all over his face, he totally was.

  “How much did you hear?”

  “Um…Okay, all of it.” He gives me a shameful smile.

  “Come here.” I call him over and pull him into my arms, surprising him. I cuddle into him.

  “I’m sorry about before.”

  “You don’t have to apologise.”

  “I haven’t had much support when it comes to my art and I guess I didn’t know how to cope when I finally got some.” He kisses my forehead.

  “I’d support you in anything if it made you happy.” Oh my God, this man!

  “That’s new for me, so, sorry for the freak out.” He shakes his head.

  “Whenever you’re ready, the studio is yours, anytime of the day or night. If you need it, help yourself.”

  “Thank you.” I nuzzle into him, my heart bursting with this unfamiliar feeling.

  “I have to agree with one thing your friend said.”

  “Yeah, what’s that?”

  “I do have a big dick.” I burst out laughing. “And I think you should take one for the team and ride it.” We are both smiling at each other.

  “I think that sounds like a great idea.”

  The last couple of nights I’ve woken up to my hands itching with the need to paint, but I’ve forced myself back to sleep, too nervous to try. This morning is different, I am forcing myself out of my comfort zone, determined to do at least one painting. I tiptoe out of bed trying not to wake Louis as he lightly snores. The sun is about to rise; the first beams start to hit the horizon. I follow the rocky path down to the studio. I tentatively open the wooden door and step into Louis’ inner sanctum. I take in a deep breath, the smell of the paint, the thinners, the canvases tickle my nose; oh how I have missed them. There’s a blank canvas on the easel waiting for me. Did Louis do this for
me? Hoping that one day I might fill the white canvas with my artwork, the caesium in my heart just shrunk a little more. My fingers lightly touch the different sized brushes laid out before me. I hold the different sizes, feeling their weight in my fingers, the familiar feeling permeates through my pores. I scan the various colours of paint, from the brightly coloured, to the dark tones, pretty much any colour I desire is laid out before me. Nerves tickle my veins; my breathing quickens as I walk around the studio. I decide to open the windows that surround the studio and let in some light, I enjoy painting in natural light. Then it hits me, the images that have been playing over and over again in my mind. I don’t think, I just pick up a paintbrush, scan the paint tins again until I find the colours that I am looking for.

  “Hey. There you are.” Louis’ voice makes me jump, pulling me from the canvas I am working on. “You’ve…” His words fall away as he rushes over to the couple of paintings that I completed this morning. He picks one up and my stomach sinks. I go to tell him not to look at it but he is already shaking his head, as if anticipating my reaction. He whips around quickly and stares at me.

  “What?” My stomach sinks further. He hates them. He thinks I’m not any good. Oh my God, I’m the biggest loser to think that I could be an artist. The paintbrush falls from my fingers and thumps to the floor. Louis must see my face, he places the canvas down on the table beside him and rushes to me.

  “No. Don’t you dare retreat again, Emily.” He grabs my shoulders, stopping me. “Did you do all those paintings?” He motions with his head behind me.

  “Yes,” I squeak out. He lets go of me and rakes his hand through his hair.

  “Emily. Fuck. Emily. They are amazing.” Huh. Did I just hear him right? “Never, ever, ever believe anyone that tells you that you shouldn't paint. These are…” He rushes back to my canvases and points to them. “These are magnificent. They are just as good as any known modern artist out there at the moment. They should be in a gallery. Why are they not in a gallery?” He is so excited that he flicks between English and French. “You need to paint more. I need more.” He throws his hands up then comes rushing back over to me. He picks me up and swings me around the room making me squeal. “You are bloody brilliant, Emily. Brilliant.” He kisses my face, my cheeks, then my lips. I’m so caught up in his enthusiasm.