Chapter 21
Kelsie
I stare at the canvas in front of me, angling my head from one side and then the other as I take in the symmetry, colors, and brush strokes of the image. I want to make sure I’ve captured every emotion I felt so that it will evoke the same from the viewer.
The idea for the painting came to me last night as I walked home hand in hand with Hayes. Spending the day with him was the best day I’ve ever had.
Sure, we had fun and memorable times when we were together in Paris, but the feeling that’s taken hold and rooted itself in my belly recently is something entirely different.
It’s a newfound intimacy and a connection that goes far beyond the attraction that I have for Hayes that began when we first met in France.
The attraction is so hot it burns in my soul and I can’t get enough of him.
But now there’s something else. Something deeper and more complicated, a bond newly developed that seems to consume me.
Once the restrictions and rules were lifted and we began sharing the inner parts of ourselves, I feel closer to Hayes than I’ve ever been with anyone else outside of my best friends.
Hayes has somehow wormed his way inside my heart, which for so long had been guarded and kept under lock and key, and taken a piece of it. Or maybe he’s given me a piece I’ve been missing.
Whatever it is, Hayes fuels my artistic fire like gasoline to the flames.
I take another step back to critique my work and realize there is something missing. After a few more minutes of critical self-evaluation, I decide to bring in the real artist to get her feedback.
Tugging my phone from my overalls’ back pocket, I click on my aunt Desiree’s contact in the messenger app. Even with the time difference between us, I figure it’s a good possibility she’s still awake in Paris.
The video call rings twice and then the line opens and her beautiful face appears on my screen.
“Bonjour, ma jolie fille,” she greets with her well-honed French accented purr. From the looks of it, she may have just returned from some sort of soiree because her hair and make-up are meticulously done and she has a bit of a slur to her words.
Champagne will do that to you.
“Hey, auntie. Comment ?a va?”
She waves a dismissive hand in the air that’s covered in bohemian-style rings and accessories, and the bangle bracelets around her wrist make a clanking sound that is a normal part of her wardrobe.
I’ve always loved her style. As a young girl, I thought she was some kind of beautiful princess with her flowy skirts and brightly colored clothing.
So very unlike my business-woman mother who dressed in drab, boring suits and black evening wear.
I have more love and admiration for my aunt than I do my distant and cold mom.
Desiree and I are so much alike that if the three of us were lined up, the casual observer would choose Desiree as my mother and not my own biological one.
My aunt sighs dramatically, brushing a piece of her blonde hair out of her face.
“I’m utterly exhausted, darling. I can’t keep up with this new lover of mine. Jean-Phillipe is so vivacious and loves to accompany me to all the new gallery openings.”
I giggle. “Vivacious, huh? Didn’t you also call him a stallion in the sheets?”
Desiree leans in close and winks, giving her lips a pop. “He is all that and more, darling. God, that stud can go for hours. If only I were ten years younger.”
“Puh-lease,” I snort. “You have more energy than anyone I know. But I hope you’re checking their ID’s before you go to bed with them.”
She laughs, the sound of it warm and endearing, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
My aunt has always been a happily single woman who has taught me about independence and self-reliance. She’s also gone through a ton of lovers since I was old enough to understand the concept of sex. Until Hayes, I was very much following in her footsteps, both artistically and personally. I never wanted to get close to a guy because Desiree once told me that you can easily lose your identity if you lose yourself in a man.
So I took that to heart and steered clear of love and relationships.
Until I fell for Hayes. My connection with him has me rethinking all of that and it freaks me the hell out.
My aunt sits down on her oversized sofa in the same loft I stayed in when I was in Paris and throws her head back on the cushion.
“What’s going on, my darling? Is something on your mind?”
I hesitate for a second, glancing up at the canvas I’ve been working on for hours and then I drop my gaze down at my overalls. I run a hand over my belly, the same spot where last night the paint from Hayes’s chest was smeared. The intimacy of the act sends ripples of lust through my blood even now as I remember the moment.
I inhale deeply and expel the air from my lungs.
“I don’t think I know how to love someone,” I blurt out, the words pouring out unbidden and unexpectedly.
This gets my aunts attention, and her head snaps up, a look of confusion wrinkling her brow. “What on earth do you mean?”
I sit down cross-legged, propping my back against the wall. The floor is cold and sends a shiver up my spine.
“You know that Mom and Dad are a terrible example of what love should be.”
She gives a slight nod of understanding.
My parents aren’t the couple goals most people think they are. Out in public, they represent a united front for the sake of their business ventures. They do make a good team when it comes to running their successful international brand.
But the house I grew up in wasn’t filled with the affection that should be part of a loving marital relationship. I’m not sure I recall a single time they hugged each other, or hugged me and Keaton, for that matter. Most of the time when they were home, they either yelled and screamed at one another or disappeared separately to their own corners of the house.
It left Keaton and me on our own much of the time and I didn’t witness a good example of what love should look like. It’s this nebulous concept that has eluded me for so long.
“Oh, darling, I hope you know how much I love you,” she coos. “And so does your brother.”
I snort. “Keaton. Riiight. He sure showed it poorly when he went behind my back when I wanted to go to that art camp. That proved he doesn’t love me. He loves what my parents have to offer.”
Desiree shakes her head adamantly and makes a tsking sound.
“No, no, no, darling. That’s not true at all,” she says. “I think you only have one side of the story. Have you ever spoken to your brother to ask him why he did that?”
“Hell no,” I grouse, crinkling my nose at the thought of doing that. He ruined my trust. I wasn’t going to ask him why he did it. “Why would I waste my time with his lies?”
“Darling, he did it out of love for you, and possibly from something I’d said to him at the time.”
My heart jolts at her statement like it’s been zapped by lightning.
“What do you mean? What did you say to him?”
Desiree touches her forehead, running her fingers over the hairline and sighs.
“At that time when the camp had the opening, Keaton was already in business school and he wanted both of you to follow in your parents’ footsteps. But you, my darling, already possessed such a lovely artistic ability and had a passion for it. Which, of course, I loved to see and wanted to encourage.”
I smile wistfully, recalling the summer when I was ten and Desiree first put a paintbrush in my hand, guiding me through the motions. Teaching me about colors and techniques. It brought me such complete and utter contentment during those hard years when I didn’t feel loved.
Desiree clears her throat and lights a cigarette, taking a puff before blowing it out.
“You probably don’t know this, but I struggled for over twenty years before something big happened for me. The art world is difficult, fickle, and can be devastating on your self-esteem.” She inhales another drag and exhales slowly. “I may have mentioned to Keaton that maybe it would be a good thing if you attended business school so you’d have that to fall back on if art didn’t work out. I guess he took that to heart and told your parents.”
Something seethes inside me with red-hot anger. Disappointment curls inside my stomach And maybe even resentment toward my auntie, whom I’ve always loved and admired.
“How could you do that to me?” I bark out angrily. “It changed everything. I wanted to go to that camp so bad and you and Keaton ruined my chances.”
I know my outburst has me sounding like an ungrateful whiny brat, but it hurts knowing my aunt may have helped sabotage my opportunities. And all this time, I’ve been so mad at my brother for his interference. Now I find out my aunt played a part in it too.
“Darling, it came from a place of love. You must know I only want the best for you and I didn’t ever want to see you struggle the way I did. I love you like you’re my own, Kelsie. And Keaton has always loved you too.”
Confusion swirls inside my brain. This new revelation leaves me unsettled and unbalanced.
Desiree’s next statement pushes me over the edge and has me freefalling into complete and utter chaos.
“I think it’s time for you to grow up, Kelsie, and forgive your brother. Stop torturing yourself over what could have been and look at where you are and what you have now.”
I let her words sink in and contemplate what it means for me.
Maybe she’s right. If I’d gone to that art camp and then pursued an art school, I wouldn’t be here at CFU. I wouldn’t have the friends that I have.
I would never have met Hayes.