Chapter Five
“I really liked that collection,”I say as we exit the Wendy Frasier Gallery.
“I could tell,” Tyler says. “Which one was your favorite?”
“Hmm.” I look over my shoulder to glimpse the paintings of the ocean through the window of the gallery. “The one with the dolphins under the water and the sunset.”
“That was really nice. I liked the one with the girls in the bikinis.”
I turn to see Tyler wagging his eyebrows at me, and I jokingly shove my shoulder into his side. He stumbles, probably faking how hard I pushed him, and laughs out loud.
“How about this one?” Tyler asks, gesturing at the sign for the Canyon Cove Art Institute student gallery.
A pang hits my chest. That’s where Tyler wanted me to enroll so I could stay here with him five years ago. I glance inside, my insides twisting as I take in all the sculptures and paintings, reminding me of what could have been.
I point at the gallery across the street. “Oh, I love this artist! Let’s go!” A total lie, because I’ve never heard of Gerard Barbier before. After quickly checking for oncoming traffic, I run across the street as fast as my heels will allow.
Tyler appears at my side a moment later. I expect him to call me out for being a weirdo, but he stays quiet and just follows me inside.
Big mistake.
Huge.
Because this gallery is full of giant canvases with stick figures painted on them. Some are even accompanied by two-dimensional houses and flowers, the kind I drew when I was four.
“This is interesting,” Tyler says, suspicion lacing his voice. “You’re a big fan of this guy?”
“I…uh…it must be another…” I glance at the sign to remind me of his name. “Gerard Barbier.”
“Mm,” Tyler hums. “Well, we’re here, so let’s look around.”
We slowly pass by each painting, not saying a word. After a string of stick figure humans with stick figure dogs and cats, we get to a painting that is…well, let’s just call it abstract. I tilt my head, trying to get a better angle of the image in front of me.
“Is it any better sideways?” Tyler asks from behind me.
I grimace. “I’m supposed to be supportive of other artists, but…I’ll just say that I don’t understand this one.”
Tyler chuckles. “It looks like something my nephew would do.”
I turn to face him, finally ready to admit that this is a weird gallery. I speak in a soft voice. “You know, there are online quizzes where you have to choose if the artwork is done by a toddler or professional artist?”
Tyler shakes his head, an amused grin on his face. “And?”
“And…” I sigh. “It can be really hard to tell.”
He doubles over in laughter, resulting in a few heads being turned our way.
My cheeks flame. “Shhh,” I whisper, tapping him on the back.
“I’m so sorry,” he says, wiping his eyes. “This is just too much.” He straightens but can’t stop laughing and points at the door. “I’m gonna get some air.”
“I’ll come with you,” I say, unable to help the smile that’s hurting my cheeks.
As we walk outside together, I can’t help thinking that Tyler is so fun. I had forgotten how well we click. He’s been making commentary on all the paintings, but he also asks my opinion as an artist.
And as much fun as this night has been, it reminds me of the last time we walked along Main Street together, looking at the local art. His hand in mine, his lips on my cheek, whispers in my ear that one day my artwork could be on display here, too.
A shiver runs down my spine at the memory. No, Brooke. You let go of those goals years ago. You have new plans now.
But…do I?
Once we’re outside, Tyler freely lets his laugh loose. It’s so infectious, the deep notes filling my heart and making me giggle, too.
His laughter finally calms down enough so he can speak. “Oh, man. I hope Gerard Barbier wasn’t watching us.”
I snap my head to look back inside the gallery, analyzing the situation. “No one is looking at us now. I think we’re good.”
He nods and wipes his eyes again. “Sorry. I don’t know what came over me. But that was hilarious.”
“You don’t need to apologize,” I say. I twist my lips to the side. “Well, not to me. Maybe to Gerard.”
He chuckles. “I thought you said we were safe.”
“You never know.”
He shakes his head at me, then something behind me catches his eye. “Want to get some gelato?”
I turn my head to see the same gelato shop we had frequented years ago. “That sounds amazing.”
He places a hand on the small of my back, and tingles erupt down my body. I could tell him to let go, but…I don’t want to.
The line is surprisingly short for such a busy evening on the street. There’s nowhere to sit in the actual shop, since the store is full of customers, and they have ten options of flavors and only two workers.
I stand in front of the flavor options, almost drooling at the thought of ice cream.
“Coconut still?” Tyler asks, interrupting my perusal.
“I think so,” I reply, still looking through the options. “I haven’t had ice cream in a year.”
Tyler says nothing, so I turn to look at him. His mouth is dropped open in shock.
“What?” I ask.
“You…the queen of gelato…”
I snort at the memory of his nickname for me.
“Haven’t had ice cream,” he continues, undeterred, “in a YEAR?!”
I shrug a shoulder. “I had to fit into my wedding dress.”
Tyler is silent, his face sobering. And that’s when I realize it’s the first time I’ve mentioned my failed wedding to him.
After an awkward moment of silence, Tyler clears his throat. “Well. Let’s remedy that.” He turns to the workers of the shop. “A triple scoop of coconut gelato for the lady.”
“What? No!” I protest, but Tyler just waves me off.
“And a double scoop of hazelnut for me.”
They serve up our gelato, and I reach into my clutch for my wallet, but Tyler places a hand on my forearm. “I’ve got it,” he says.
“No, it’s fine,” I say. I don’t want him to get the impression that this is a date.
Because it isn’t.
Right?
He shakes his head. “It’s fine.” He nods at the workers, and they just wave goodbye to him without making him pay.
“Oh, that’s why you didn’t let me pay,” I say with a smirk.
He shrugs. “I send so many of my guests here, they let me have free gelato whenever I want. We have a good thing going.”
We walk out of the store and back onto Main Street, and I take my first lick of the creamy, delicious frozen treat. I let out a small moan. “This. Is. Incredible.”
I glance at Tyler, who’s watching me with heat in his eyes. “I’m glad,” he says, his voice a little hoarse.
Shoot. Maybe that was a little much. I clear my throat. “So! Where to?”
He looks up and down Main Street. “We could go to another gallery, but I think we have to finish our ice cream first.” He points across the street to the beach. “Want to sit on a bench and finish our cones?”
I press my lips together. This really feels like a date. I’m almost certain we spent an evening exactly like this five years ago. But what other option do I have?
“Okay. Let’s go.”
We follow the sounds of the waves, finding an empty bench, and sit down together. He leaves a little bit of space between us, but if I wanted to, I could lean my head down on his shoulder.
No, Brooke. Don’t do it.
For a few minutes, we sit silently, listening to the ocean and feeling the warm breeze.
“So, what happened with your wedding?” Tyler asks out of nowhere.
Oh, boy.
Here we go.