Chapter 29
EMILY
The drive to the gallery felt both endless and far too short. When it came into view, my stomach dropped.
It was a converted warehouse with huge windows and industrial charm. The idea that my art was about to be hanging in there was almost beyond comprehension.
“Breathe,” Cam said, downshifting his truck as we pulled up to the loading zone.
“I am breathing. I think.”
“You’re hyperventilating. There’s a difference.”
A woman approached the truck as Cam and I got out. She had silver hair, cat eye glasses and wore a trim black dress. “Hi, I’m Diana, the gallery coordinator.”
“I’m Emily McIntyre. It’s so nice to meet you in person.”
“Likewise. And I must say, I’m so excited to see what you’ve brought. Your instructor tells me that you’re quite a talent, especially considering that you’re only able to attend her classes part time.”
“Th-thank you. That’s really kind of you.”
She gave me a warm smile and gestured to two young guys hovering behind her. “Jeffrey and Ben will help get it inside.”
I stepped back as Cam helped the guys extract the large canvas from the truck bed. My hands were shaking. Actually shaking. I shoved them into my dress pockets to hide the tremors.
“It’s quite large,” Diana said, approval in her voice. “Wonderful. We’ve reserved the far wall for it. Perfect natural light.”
The guys carried my canvas toward the entrance, and we followed. Cam’s hand landed on the small of my back, steady and warm, once the heavy lifting was done.
“This is it,” I whispered. “No turning back.”
“You belong here,” Cam murmured near my ear.
We walked inside, and my senses went into overdrive. The space was beautiful, all exposed brick and polished concrete floors. Other pieces were already hung, paintings and sculptures that looked professional and important. Fuck.
Diana directed the guys to the far wall, where they hoisted my canvas onto the mounts in one fluid motion.
“Ready for the unveiling?”
No. “Yes.”
I stood frozen while Jeffrey and Ben removed the protective covering, keeping my eyes on the floor. I couldn’t watch. Couldn’t see it hanging there, exposed and vulnerable.
“Em.” Cam’s voice was rough. I forced my gaze up to see him stepping closer, his eyes roving over my painting.
I’d painted a river scene, with willow trees and wildflowers along the bank and sunlight dancing on the water.
“This is...” He turned to me, and I saw something like awe in his expression. “It’s… extraordinary.”
My eyes stung. “Really?”
“Really.” He looked back at the painting. “How did you... where did this come from?”
“I don’t know.” I moved to stand beside him. “It was such a beautiful day, the light hitting everything just right. It just sort of poured out of me.”
“Unbelievable.” He pulled me into a quick, hard hug. “I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you,” I choked out, tears stinging.
He rubbed my back in that soothing way of his, and said, “I think I know what you need.”
“What’s that?”
“Champagne.”
“God, yes.”
“You stay here and I’ll go see what I can rustle up.”
“Okay.”
He left me standing by the painting, my fingers twisting nervously as the first guests trickled in.
“Emily!”
I turned to see Mia and Hannah weaving through the crowd. Relief flooded through me at the sight of familiar faces. Behind them, the rest of our chaotic friend group followed like a small army of support.
“You made it,” I said as Mia pulled me into a squeeze.
“We wouldn’t miss this.” She stepped back, beaming. “Now show me which one is yours so I can brag about knowing you.”
I gestured to the painting, and Poppy whistled low. “Damn, Em. That’s seriously impressive.”
“You think?”
“I mean, I know shit all about art, but it’s just… It makes me want to go swimming in that river.”
“Same,” Annie agreed.
The tightness in my chest eased, knowing I had the best friends in the whole world. And Cam, walking toward me with a very necessary glass of champagne. I took it, happy to see that my hands were slightly less shaky.
“Guys, this is Cam.”
I introduced him to everyone one by one and despite being outnumbered, he shook hands with easy charm.
Hannah was practically vibrating, her eyes darting between Cam and me with barely contained glee. I caught her gaze and gave her a pleading look.
Don’t you dare.
She pressed her lips together and managed a polite smile. “Great to officially meet you, Cam.”
“You too,” he replied, oblivious to the bullet he had just dodged.
Cassidy, realizing they were all standing in front of my canvas, blocking the view, said, “How about we go check out some other pieces.” She squeezed my hand. “We’ll be back in a bit.”
“Okay.”
After they’d gone, I stood near my painting, trying to look casual while simultaneously wanting to hide in the bathroom.
I smiled politely as people wandered past, some pausing to study my work, others moving on quickly.
I couldn’t read their expressions. Was that a good thoughtful face, or a confused one?
Did that woman like it or was she just being polite?
“Stop psychoanalyzing everyone,” Cam murmured.
“I’m not.”
“You are. I can tell because you’re gnawing at your bottom lip.”
I stopped immediately. “I’m just observing.”
“You’re spiraling.”
Maybe a little. An older couple came to a stop in front of my painting, and the woman pointed at something in the upper corner. They spoke in low voices, nodding. The man pulled out his phone and took a picture.
“That’s good, right?” I whispered to Cam. “Taking a picture is good?”
“It’s good.”
“Unless he’s sending it to someone to make fun of it.”
“Em.”
“Sorry. I’ll stop.” I dragged in a breath, then another, letting my gaze wander over the crowd.
Cam went still beside me. “What are they doing here?”
I followed his gaze toward the entrance and froze. “Oh, my god,” I breathed, watching Dale and Janice walk in, followed by Travis, Brooke, Erica and Devin. Cam’s whole family.
“You didn’t know they were coming?”
Cam shook his head. “No. I just mentioned that I was helping you deliver your painting this weekend.” He was grinning now. “They must have decided to pop by.”
Janice spotted us and smiled, hobbling over with her cane, dragging the rest of the crew with her. They reached us, and Janice pulled me into a warm one-armed hug, clutching her crutches with the other, before I could fully process what was happening.
“Emily, sweetheart, hello.”
“You came,” I said stupidly. It was like my brain just couldn’t compute.
“We wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”
“Of course we came.” Dale’s eyes crinkled with warmth. “This way, we can tell people we knew you before you were famous.”
“Which one is yours?”
“This one,” Cam said, leading them over.
“Oh wow, it’s stunning!” Erica’s eyes were round as saucers. “You are super talented, honestly.”
I blinked rapidly. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
Janice was studying the painting now too, and when she looked back at me, her eyes were misty. “It’s beautiful, honey. You have a real gift.”
“I think it’s the best one here,” Dale added.
“I don’t know what to say.” My voice was shaky. “Thank you. You really didn’t have to come all this way.”
“Come on now, it’s not that far. And let’s be honest, it’s not every day you get to see something like this.” Travis gestured to my painting and that just did me in.
The tears spilled over, and I swiped at them quickly, laughing. “Sorry, I’m a mess.”
Janice rubbed my arm. “You’re allowed to be. We’ll get out of the way for a bit, so other people can see, but we’ll circle back later.”
“Okay.”
Cam’s family drifted toward the refreshment table, giving us a moment of relative quiet. He leaned in close. “Are your parents here yet? I bet they’ll be really excited to see your work hanging in a real gallery.”
It felt like being dumped with a bucket of iced water.
For a split second, the gallery lights felt too bright, the air too thin. Excited. The word felt like a dart in my mind, making my stomach roil.
Don’t let him see.
I swallowed the lump of lead in my throat and forced a breezy tone. “Uh, no. They couldn’t make it.”
Cam’s smile didn’t falter at first, but his brows drew together. “Oh. That sucks. Are they coming tomorrow then? Or did they send flowers?”
“No flowers.” I smoothed a non-existent wrinkle on my dress, needing to do something with my trembling hands. “They aren’t really interested in my art, Cam.”
His face fell, confusion flickering across his features. “They’re not... what?”
I forced a smile. “It’s fine. Really. This isn’t their thing.”
He looked like he wanted to argue, his jaw working, but this wasn’t the time or place.
“Em...” His voice was low, concerned.
“Cam, it’s okay.” I squeezed his hand. “I’m used to it. Let’s just enjoy tonight, yeah?”
He studied my face for a long moment, and I could practically see him filing this away for later.
Finally, he nodded, but his hand tightened protectively around mine and he said, “More fool them because you, Emily McIntyre, are incredible. Just look at what you did.” He turned me to face my painting.
I let myself look at it. Really look at it.
I’d done this. I’d created something real and put it out into the world, and maybe that was enough. Maybe just being brave enough to try was its own kind of success. “Thank you,” I whispered.
“No problem.” He slid his arm around my waist and pressed a kiss into my hair.
Hours later, the gallery had finally emptied out. Yes, my feet hurt and my social battery was drained, but I felt lighter than air as we walked across the dark parking lot to Cam’s truck.
“You good?” Cam asked as he opened the passenger door.
“I think so.” I climbed in. “That was a lot, but you were amazing. I don’t think I could have got through it without you. I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you.”
He closed the door and when he got into the driver’s seat, said, “Well, you could get my mom off my case and come to Sunday lunch some time soon.”
I giggled. “Like that’s a hardship! You just tell me when and I’ll be there.”
“Okay then.” He started the engine and once we were out on the main road, reached for my hand, threading his fingers through mine.
I leaned back on the headrest and closed my eyes, letting myself enjoy the quiet after such a huge night.
My phone buzzed in my purse. I almost ignored it, too tired to deal with more congratulations texts, but something made me pull it out.
It was from Diana.
My heart stopped.
“Oh my god,” I breathed.
Cam shot me a look. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I just...” I stared at the screen, reading the message again to make sure I hadn’t imagined it. “Someone bought my painting.”
The truck swerved slightly before Cam corrected. “What?”
“Diana just texted me. Someone bought it. Tonight. At the show.” My hands were shaking as I held the phone. “Oh my god, Cam. Someone bought my painting!”
“Holy shit! That’s amazing!”
“I know!”
I looked down at my phone one more time, at Diana’s message, and let the reality of it sink in.
Someone had bought my painting.
I was an artist. A real artist whose work someone wanted to own. God, I could cry with excitement.