by Robin Huber
“What? You did? You never told me that,” I say to Bas.
“It was a long time ago. Paul wanted to move to Florida, and I wanted to stay in Atlanta.”
“So what happened?”
“I went to Florida,” Paul says. “For a little bit anyway. And then I realized that no matter how much I missed my family and wanted to be near them, it wasn’t worth losing the most important person in my life.” He wraps his hand around Sebastian’s, and it tugs at my heart.
“He also realized that the music scene was bigger in Atlanta than Orlando,” Bas adds with a smirk.
“I should have asked Sam to come. It feels wrong going to the Aurelia Snow exhibit without him.”
“It’s probably for the best, Lucy.” Paul shrugs. “He’s taken a lot of crap from the media since the Crawford fight. Being in New York would only exacerbate it.”
“Hey, Lucy?” Sebastian says with wide eyes. “Guess what!”
I give him an apprehensive look. “What?”
“We’re going to an Aurelia Snow exhibit.” He grabs my hand and bites his lip. “Which is featuring your painting!”
I laugh. “I know.” I squeal quietly and pull my hand to my mouth, which Sebastian promptly pulls away from my face.
“Do you know how many germs are in this petri dish?” He glances around at the other passengers on the plane. “Don’t put your hands near your mouth, sweetie.”
Paul rolls his eyes. “You are a germaphobe.”
Sebastian looks at him and says, “Yes, and?”
I laugh and rest my head back against the seat as we approach the airport, racing over the water below. I close my eyes as the wheels of the plane skid along the runway, keeping them shut until we eventually come to a stop on the tarmac.
“Luc, I’m going to need my hand this weekend,” Bas says, and I release my grip on it. He shakes it out in front of him and mouths, Ow.
“Sorry.” I give him apologetic eyes. “You know how much I love landing.”
“Or taking off, or turbulence of any kind,” he teases.
I nod once. “Correct.”
When the pilot gives the okay to exit the plane, Paul stands up, but Grady gets up from his seat directly in front of us and holds his hand out. “Wait a minute,” he says to Paul, who sits back down. Grady says something to the steward, who then stands at the back of the first class seats while we gather our bags from the overhead bin, and I’m reminded of the biggest change since we were here last.
I fumble through my purse for my sunglasses and throw them on, keeping my eyes on the back of Grady’s shoulders as we exit the plane and walk into the busy airport. I doubt anyone would recognize me without Sam, but the thought is still unnerving. I put my hand on my stomach and the baby moves beneath it, kicking and rolling a knee or a shoulder, and she bumps my hand up and down.
When we get to the baggage claim, someone shouts at us from nearby, startling me, and I curse under my breath. A camera-toting man approaches us, but I do my best to ignore him. A few passersby glance up at him, but most are too busy to care why he would want a picture.
“Come on,” Grady says to us. “Let’s go to the car. I’ll come back in and get your bags.”
“When’s the baby due, Lucy?” the man asks, like he knows me.
“None of your business,” Sebastian snaps, and Paul quietly scolds him as we hurry toward the exit.
When we get outside, Grady leads us to a waiting SUV with tinted windows, and I quickly climb into the back seat, eager to disappear behind them. Sebastian and Paul climb in after me.
“Can you please turn up the air?” I ask the driver.
“You okay?” Bas asks, gauging me.
“Yeah.” I rest my hands on my tummy and look over at him. “If you say I’m out of shape, I’m going to hit you.”
“I wouldn’t dare say that to a pregnant woman. Especially not one evading the paparazzi.”
“Honestly, Lucy, you can’t even tell you’re pregnant from the back,” Paul says, winking at me.
I lay my head back against the seat rest and pat Sebastian’s knee. “Please don’t tell me you’re taking us on another tour of Manhattan, because I don’t think I can keep up this time.”
“Unfortunately, no. The only thing we have time for this trip is work.” He checks his phone. “I need to call the studio and confirm our arrival time.”
“What time does it start?” Paul asks.
“Six. But I want to get there earlier.”
* * *
Sebastian walks into my hotel room and smiles at me. “Just like an angel.”
“Can you help me?” I ask, handing him my necklace.
“Sure.” He takes it from me and clasps it behind my neck. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks,” I say, staring at myself in the mirror, grateful that my dress still fits almost as well as it did six weeks ago when Sebastian picked it out. There’s just a little less room in the middle, but otherwise it’s still just as comfortable. I straighten my gold bar necklace over the V neckline and adjust the soft white material that flows over my growing stomach all the way down to my strappy blush-colored stilettos. “Is my hair okay?” I ask, looking at Sebastian, who’s standing behind me.
“It looks gorgeous,” he says, spinning me around by my shoulders to see the layers of loose waves that are cascading down my exposed back.
I reach for the delicate gold bracelet on my wrist that Sam gave me when I was seventeen and sigh.
“What’s the matter?” he asks, dropping his head to the side. “You look serene and beautiful. You’re ready for this.”
“I don’t feel ready. Not without Sam. He should be here. I should have asked him to come. I know he would have.”
“Yes, he would have. But I’m here,” he offers. “And I know I’m not Sam, but I’ll support you any way that I can today.”
“I know you will.” I smile softly at him in his snug black suit. “You look very handsome.”
“Thank you.” He smiles and holds his elbow out for me. “Shall we?”
I wrap my hand around his arm and he escorts me to the waiting car downstairs.
I check my phone for the umpteenth time while we sit in unmoving traffic between towering buildings that block what’s left of the afternoon sun, hoping for a missed call or text from Sam.
“Still nothing?” Bas asks.
I shake my head and call him…again. But it just rings and rings, until it goes to his voicemail.
Hey, this is Sam. Leave a message.
“Hey, it’s me. We’re headed to the show. I just wanted to talk to you. I love you, Sam…I miss you. Bye.”
“Lucy, maybe when we go home you should go see him. I think it’s been long enough, don’t you?”
“I guess I’ll know when I talk to him,” I say, fidgeting with the sparkly engagement ring on my left hand.
Sebastian looks at his watch. “Is there any faster way than this?” he asks the driver, who shakes his head.
“Relax, Bas. It’s only four thirty,” Paul says to him. “The show doesn’t start for an hour and a half.”
“Which at this rate is what time we’ll show up. That’s unacceptable,” he says with wide eyes. He looks at the traffic map on his phone and starts suggesting alternate routes to the driver, who I’m pretty sure is ignoring him now.
Bas exhales an exasperated breath through his nostrils, and it makes me laugh.
“I’m so glad I provide you so much amusement,” he says, narrowing his eyes at me.
“Bas, I love you. Have I told you that lately?”
“No, actually, you haven’t. But it’s nice to hear,” he says, shrugging a shoulder. “Finally!” he shouts, when we start moving again.
Nearly an hour later, we arrive at our location, and Sebastian practically leaps from the car. I wait for Grady to open my door and he holds my hand while I get out. “You look great, Lucy. You sure you don’t need me to come in?” he asks, leading me around the SUV.
> I pause and look at his kind face above his thick muscular neck. “Thanks, but that’s okay. I think it would just cause unnecessary attention.”
“Okay, well I’ll be right outside.”
“Oh, Grady, you don’t have to wait. Really, I’m fine.”
“Sam hired me to keep you safe, Lucy, which makes you my top priority. I’ll be right outside,” he reiterates.
“Okay.” I look up at the inconspicuous storefront situated between two large sliding garage doors on the first floor of a four-story red-brick building.
“Lucy,” Sebastian says impatiently. He grabs my hand and pulls me across the sidewalk, but there’s a line of people waiting to get in.
“Bas, let’s just get in line.”
He gives me an impossible look.
“It’s fine,” I say, noticing the glances we’re getting. “We can wait like everyone else.”
He gives me an exasperated look and says, “Absolutely not.”
“Sebastian”—Paul gives him a stern look—“you are crazy if you think we’re cutting in front of that line. Lucy’s right.”
Bas presses his lips together and pivots on the heel of his shiny black shoe. “Fine,” he says under his breath.
We get in line and Sebastian crosses his arms over his chest. But after a few minutes, he looks at me and says, “No. It’s too hot, you’re pregnant, and you’re a featured artist in the show.” He pulls out his phone and makes a call. “Hi, this is Sebastian Ford.” He turns around and speaks quietly into the phone. “Yes…Mm-hmm…Okay, great. Thank you.” He hangs up and steps out of the line. “Are you guys coming or what?”
“Sebastian.”
He leads us up the sidewalk to the door, where we’re promptly greeted by a suited man with a clipboard. “Sebastian Ford?”
“Yes, and this is Lucy Bennett. An artist in tonight’s show,” he says loud enough for others to hear, and I close my eyes.
“Well, welcome. It’s wonderful to have you. If you’ll step right this way”—he gestures us inside the air-conditioned studio—“Aurelia will be out to meet you in a moment. In the meantime, feel free to look around.”
“Thank you,” I say, following Sebastian inside.
“Oh, my God, look at this place,” he whispers.
The two-story room is surrounded by white walls that are adorned with colorful paintings and a floating staircase that stretches across the space, twisting as it curves up to the second floor. There are paintings beneath it that follow its curve, some you have to look up to see.
“Wow,” I say, staring up at it. I look at the paintings, letting each one pull me in a little further.
“Lucy!” someone calls, and I turn around. A thin woman with short black hair and straight-cut bangs smiles at me. Her lips are painted red, contrasting with her fair skin, and she’s wearing matching red suspender pants over a sheer black button-down shirt.
“Aurelia,” I say, smiling at her.
She opens her arms and puts her hands on my shoulders, bringing me in to kiss my cheek. “It’s so wonderful to finally meet you. Such a talent.”
“The pleasure’s all mine. It’s honestly a dream to meet you. Your gallery is incredible,” I say.
“Thank you. It didn’t happen overnight, that’s for sure. But I’m quite proud of it.” She looks at Paul and raises her eyebrows. “You must be Sebastian.”
“Oh, no, actually, I’m his husband, Paul.” He glances at Sebastian, who’s waiting patiently to say hello.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Bas says, reaching for her small hand.
She gives it to him and smiles. “Nice to finally meet you, Sebastian.”
“I am so impressed by everything you’ve done. You truly are an inspiration.”
“Thank you. I aspire to be.” She smiles at me and says, “We’re going to open the doors in just a few minutes. I want everyone to have some time to look around, get a drink, relax, and then I was hoping to have you and the other artists take a few minutes to talk about your work. Okay? It really helps people connect to the painting when they understand the meaning behind it and what the artist was going through when they painted it.”
“Oh, um—” My skin suddenly feels clammy.
“Of course that would be okay,” Sebastian says for me.
I smile over the unexpected wave of anxiety I’m now riding. “Yeah. Sure.”
“Great. I’ll come find you when it’s your turn.” She winks at me and spins around. “No, no, Michael, that doesn’t go there.”
“Sebastian,” I say through my teeth. “I can’t give a speech. I don’t have anything prepared.”
“It’s not a speech. It’s just talking about your painting. You do it with me all the time.”
“That’s different. Talking about my private feelings with you isn’t quite the same as discussing them with a room full of strangers.” I glance at Paul, whose worried look is plastered onto his face. “You might as well ask me to take my clothes off in front of them. As a matter of fact, that would probably be easier.”
Sebastian takes my hand and holds it between his. “Lucy, just breathe. Just take a deep breath.”
I squint over the contraction that’s taken over my abdomen and inhale a slow, deep breath.
“Just relax.”
I exhale as the contraction passes and look up at him. “What am I supposed to say?”
“Don’t worry about that. When it’s your turn to speak, you’re going to look at me and tell me about the painting. Like you’ve done a hundred times before. Can you do that?”
I nod reluctantly. “Yes.”
“Okay.” He smiles at me, but it does little to ease my nerves. “You’ve got this.”
I close my eyes and think of Sam. I need you.
As the next hour passes, Paul and I follow Sebastian around the gallery, watching him schmooze his way through the crowd, eliciting smiles and laughter wherever he goes. I lean in to Paul and say quietly, “He has his own gravity.”
Paul smiles. “Don’t I know.”
“Lucy…Lucy,” Aurelia calls my name, waving me over to the staircase.
Sebastian turns to me and gives me a gentle push. “Go, go.”
We follow Aurelia up the stairs to the second floor, which we haven’t explored yet. When I reach the top, I pause and gasp. My painting is floating in the middle of the dimly lit room, suspended from the ceiling by nearly invisible wire, lit by several small spotlights. But it’s not the painting of Sam I was expecting. It’s the painting of me. I look at Sebastian, who pulls his mouth to the side and shrugs. “I thought it was your turn to be in the spotlight.”
“Sebastian.” I shake my head and begin to say that he shouldn’t have offered up my painting without asking me, but as I look at it and think of everything I’ve been through to get to this moment—the struggles and the successes—I realize it’s the perfect painting to commemorate this milestone in my career.
Paul walks toward it, stepping in front of the people standing around it. “Sorry, excuse me.” He stares at it for several seconds, then he looks over his shoulder at me with watery eyes. “It’s beautiful.”
Sebastian looks down at me with a small, apologetic smile.
“Lucy, come on,” Aurelia says, waving me over. She stands next to the painting, while everyone gathers around her.
“Knock ’em dead,” Sebastian whispers.
I look up at him and nod, then I make my way over to Aurelia and stand next to my painting.
“Okay, everybody.” She presses her hands together in front of her. “I’m so excited to introduce you to this next artist. She’s one of the most talented contemporary realist artists I’ve ever had the pleasure to know, and lucky for us, she chose to unveil her latest piece, Stronger, here tonight.” She looks at me and smiles. “Lucy Bennett.”
I smile at the crowd, full of unfamiliar faces. Some are smiling back and others are staring at me blankly. “Um…” I glance up at my painting and then back at the
people in front of me. “As Aurelia said, the painting is called Stronger.” I smile nervously, wishing Sam were here, and search for Sebastian. When I find him I keep my eyes on him as I say, “I, um, I’ve never done a self-portrait before, and I certainly never thought I’d do one like this. It wasn’t my best moment.” I laugh softly and so does the crowd. “But it was real.” I look at the painting again. “There are storms we have to weather in life.” I smile tentatively at the crowd, thinking of Sam and everything we’ve been through this year. “This was one of those times. But I had a dear friend help me through it,” I say, finding Sebastian again. “Sebastian Ford, you are the reason I painted this. And your friendship has made me stronger.” Everyone looks at Sebastian and he beams at me. Thank you, I mouth to him.
Everyone claps as Aurelia steps beside me again. “Thank you for sharing that, Lucy. I know everyone here feels the emotion you felt that day. It truly is a breathtaking piece.”
“Thank you, Aurelia.”
She gives me a warm smile and then disappears into the crowd, and I’m enveloped in Sebastian’s arms. “You did so good.”
I look up at him, relieved that it’s over. “I meant what I said.”
“I know, and I’m sucking up every ounce of emotion right now, so please don’t say anything else.” He kisses my forehead and releases me.
“Lamb.”
My breath catches in my throat and my heart races.
I look up and see Sam surrounded by several surprised faces, who whisper to each other as he passes them. But they might as well be invisible. All I see is him, dressed in a navy blue suit that’s tailor-made, staring at me with beautiful, sad eyes. His hair is impeccably styled and his flushed cheeks are freshly shaven.
I fight back tears that rush to my eyes. “Sam? What are you doing here?”
He pulls his eyebrows together and says quietly, “I know you didn’t want me to come tonight, but I had to. I’m sorry, I just—”
“Stop.” A worried look falls over his face, but it disappears when I reach for his hand. “I’m so happy you came.”
“You are?”
I nod and a tear rolls down my cheek. “I’m really happy.”
He pulls me into his arms and his words come out in a quiet rush. “I’m so sorry, Lamb, for everything. I was messed up after the Crawford fight. But that wasn’t me.”
