Chapter 16 #2
I want to close my eyes in mortification that I can’t say that without stumbling, but I can’t because his face blazes with happiness and he kisses me swiftly.
It’s a soft kiss, barely landing before he moves back, but I blink as if he’s stunned me.
I try to parse what I’m feeling but at that moment the door opens, letting out a gush of warm air, and we both shiver like Pavlov’s dogs.
“Come on,” he says, tugging me through the door. “It’s an art show tonight. Four very successful local artists who got their start here are showing their work. I thought you’d get a kick out of it when I heard about it.”
“How did you hear about this?” I ask, handing the woman at the door my coat with a smile.
He grins, looking around curiously. I don’t even bother because all my attention is fixed on him.
He has a flush from the cold and his blond hair, ever so slightly darker now in the winter, is tousled and glowing under the light.
I remember lying in bed the other night, running my hands through the strands as he rested his head on my chest. The strands had gone a light tan colour but I’d found threads of white gold underneath, like a piece of summer had been caught in his hair.
He motions us forward and I look around. The gallery is huge and well-lit and teeming with people. A wave of loud conversation greets us.
I look sideways at him. “How did you find out about this?”
He smiles. “Do you like it?” I nod and his smile gets bigger. Then he leans forward and whispers. “I spoke to Simeon.”
I jerk. “You spoke to Simeon? How? When?”
He shrugs. “I met him in St Austell. I’d been to the bank and he was coming out of a pub. We stopped to talk.”
I stare at him. “You never said.” Jealousy stirs suddenly. Simeon is very good-looking and Niall even more so. “Why didn’t you say?”
He immediately looks disgruntled. “Are you bothered that your admirer flirts for a living?”
I open my mouth to say something rude but pause at the note in his voice, and instead I smile and cuddle into his side. “I’m not bothered that he might look at you,” I say. “But no one gets to touch you.”
He stops dead, stupefaction running across his face, and then a huge smile crosses it. “You’re jealous.”
“A little bit,” I say warily. “Does that bother you?” I have horrible memories of the aftermath of a party when I’d drunkenly accused Thomas of flirting with a young artist. By the time we’d finished, I was under no illusions that I should ever be jealous again.
The bruises had taken a while to heal but the lesson is still fresh and I hate that.
However, Niall confounds me as always. Drawing me to the side of the room, he hugs me. “It’s nice,” he says. “Shows you care.” He pauses. “But you know you can trust me, don’t you? I would never do anything to damage this between us. It’s too precious.”
I stare at him, my mouth open to say I don’t know what, but the next second my name is called. When we turn, it’s to find Simeon walking towards us.
“Hello, you came,” he says, shaking Niall’s hand and giving me a hug. It’s quick and he steps back hurriedly, looking at Niall, but he just smiles happily back at him.
“I said I would,” he says. “Milo loves this sort of stuff.”
“Not you?” Simeon asks, and my eyes narrow at the way he’s looking at Niall. He can stop that right about now.
Niall is oblivious, shaking his head. “Not really. I’m fine looking at art. I just can’t stand all the analysing. It’s ridiculous. Like looking at page three of The Sun and trying to see the real picture behind it.”
I laugh and shake my head. “Niall, you’re a fucking Neanderthal.”
He grins and bites his lip. “You’re just jealous because you can’t do those picture puzzles.”
I groan. “No one can. They just say they have.” I shake my head. “All that time spent with your head on one side making your eyes go blurry; I’d have been quicker drinking a bottle of brandy again for those effects.”
Niall bursts out laughing, and I see Simeon eyeing us curiously as if we’re in the zoo.
“Are you okay?” I ask and he smiles.
“Fine. Just a few impressions I had that have been confirmed. Come and look at the pictures.”
The gallery is huge. It’s obviously two back-to-back shops that have been knocked through because it stretches far back.
“So these are local artists then?” I ask as we move through the crowd.
Simeon nods. “They’ve become very successful, but they all had their start here and they’ve done very well for themselves in London. One is a particular standout. His paintings go for thousands all the time and he’s just had his work shown at The Tate, so we’re very lucky.”
Something stirs in the back of my mind like the warning sound of a bell. I frown but the thought is gone, and I come back to the conversation to hear Niall asking Simeon something but his eyes are fixed on me. When I look at him, I shake my head. “I’m fine,” I mouth.
He relaxes, and I look up at the painting we’re standing in front of.
The artist has painted a young man who’s extremely beautiful with long brown hair and big, doe-like eyes.
He’s dressed in a thin robe that reveals as much as it conceals.
The detail is extraordinary in that he looks so real, but the colours are all whites and blues so it actually looks as if he’s dead, which adds a disturbing edge.
That elusive tug happens again, and I stare at the work.
It’s perfect and undeniably beautiful but it’s cold, as if the artist has imitated feelings that he or she hasn’t got.
Like a robot making human movements, it just looks wrong.
There’s no signature that I can see on the painting, and I’m just looking for the card when Simeon’s voice breaks my chain of thought. “I’m glad I’ve seen you, Milo.”
I turn to him, relieved for some reason not to look at that picture anymore. It disturbs me in an odd way. “Why?”
He steps closer. “I have an offer for you.”
I feel Niall stiffen at my side and I squeeze his hand. “What offer?”
He bites his lip, looking thoughtful. “I had all this planned out if I saw you again, but now I must admit I’m having second thoughts as to the wisdom of it.”
I look at Niall but he’s staring at Simeon, his head tilted to one side. However, he won’t butt in. I know that as surely as I know that he has a birthmark on his hip and that he’s ticklish on his back. I turn back to Simeon.
“Maybe you’d just better get it out,” I say, trying for a sure voice which must work because his expression lightens. He shoots Niall a somewhat apologetic look, which makes him stiffen, and then turns to me.
“I want to offer you a job.”
“What?”
He nods eagerly. “I’m opening an auction house and I need first-class restorers on my staff, and I can’t think of anyone better than you.”
“Me?”
He nods. “Yes. You’ve got a superb touch with art and you’re very well thought of in the business.”
Warmth kindles in my stomach that people think well of me despite my ignominious exit from the art world all those years ago. It must show on my face because I hear Niall inhale a sharp burst of air and Simeon leans forward eagerly.
“Where is the job?” I ask, feeling excitement run through me.
“London,” Simeon replies, and he must see me sag in disappointment because he starts talking quickly.
“It would be so good for you, Milo. You could get your career back on track. You’d be working with the best people with access to some of the most beautiful works of art and doing what you’re supposed to be doing. ”
“I’m happy doing what I am,” I say, but he shakes his head.
“You’re stultifying where you are. It’s like suffocating and it’s terrible. You should be at the centre of everything. You’ll work with the best materials.” He names a figure that makes my head spin. He grins at me coaxingly. “What do you say? Do you fancy coming back to where you belong?”
I stare at him. For a wild moment, I want to do it.
I want that job. I want people to look at me and not think fuck-up.
This is my chance to do what I’d set out to do all those years ago before Thomas and the way he changed me.
I could finally make my parents proud. Then I look at Niall.
He’s staring at Simeon, his eyes hooded and an indecipherable expression on his face.
I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s me.”
Niall jerks and glares at me, and I gape. Why is he fucked off?
Simeon interjects. “Just think about it, please.” He hands me his business card. “I’m in town for a few days. That job is yours if you want it.”
I go to hand him the card back. “I don’t think–”
“Think about it.” Niall’s voice is hoarse but his eyes are focused on something far away, the way they go when he has a problem to sort out in his head.
“ What ?” My voice is louder than I want and a few people turn to stare before going back to their conversations. “You want me to go?” The incredulity and hurt are clear in my voice and I’m dimly aware of Simeon muttering something and moving away.
Niall turns to me. “Just think about it,” he says in a low voice. “You need to think about this because it’s an amazing offer, Milo. It gives you back everything you lost because of Thomas.”
I shake my head. “You want me to go.”
“No,” he hisses, dragging me to the side of the picture. “I never want you to go.” He pauses, turning to me with an intent look on his face. “Milo, I–”
He’s interrupted by a stir in the crowds and I stiffen as I hear a very familiar voice. It’s loud and posh with sardonic amusement curling through it, and suddenly it all comes together. The coldness of the artwork and the beautiful man.
“Thomas,” I say on a gasp.
“What?” Niall looks offended as if I’ve called him by the wrong name and for a brief second, I want to laugh. But then air sucks back in and I grab his arm.
“Thomas is here. He’s the main artist.”