15. Sienna
15
SIENNA
Kyle was right about one thing: I’m not thinking clearly.
It feels as though I’m having an out-of-body experience.
I watch someone else climb into the back of a taxi with Nick. It’s another woman, strangely familiar, who presses her face up against the passenger window and watches the city flash by in a blur of fairy lights and shiny tinsel and gigantic red ribbons. The same woman is trying not to inhale and commit to memory the overpowering scent of Nick’s cologne and the vanilla air freshener swinging from the cab’s rearview mirror.
All my artwork … trashed.
I think my brain is blanking out what I saw—I can’t recall specific details—but I’m left with a gaping hole in my chest that I’ve no idea how to fill.
Every single painting that was destroyed held a special place in my heart. They all contained a piece of me, a thought, an emotion, a glimmer of an idea that, once brought to life on canvas, was set free. Released into the universe like a fragile bird finding its way home.
They will never exist again.
They’re all gone.
It’s this finality, this loss, that I don’t know what to do with. I know it isn’t like losing a loved one. I know that there are people all over the world dealing with far greater loss, but this knowledge doesn’t stop the tears from flowing.
I might not have lost someone I care about, but I have lost a part of me, and that’s why I feel so numb.
“Sienna, we’re here.” Nick’s gentle voice barely penetrates the fuzziness wrapped protectively around my brain.
I look at him. His eyes are filled with concern, his hand on mine is warm. A surgeon’s hands. Strong but delicate. Sensitive but steady.
He pays the driver, climbs out of the taxi, and walks around the car to open my door.
My body is moving from muscle memory.
I get out of the car, stand on the sidewalk, and wait for him to tell me what to do next.
“This way.”
He places an arm around my shoulders, and we enter his apartment building together, our shoulders and hips bumping awkwardly against one another. I follow him up the stairs, trapped in the moment. The crime scene is lurking inside my head, just waiting for me to stop functioning so that it can send all those horrible heart-wrenching images flooding back.
Nick unlocks the front door to his apartment, and gestures for me to step inside first. I do. My feet are still moving. I must still look like me, I probably still sound like me too, but I’m not really here.
I’m back there in the gallery, fractured into a million brittle shards that will need to be glued back together again to make me whole.
Nick faces me inside the entrance hallway of his apartment. It’s wide enough for him to keep his distance, and for that I’m grateful. I don’t want him to touch me. I don’t even know why I allowed him to bring me here when I should be clearing up the mess in the gallery, but I feel powerless to take back control of my life and plan my next move.
“I think we could both use a drink.” It’s a statement, not a question, but I nod anyway.
He takes off his coat, hangs it on a hook near the front door, and then gestures for mine. I obediently turn around so that he can tug my coat over my shoulders, before following him through to the kitchen.
Nick pulls a chrome and red leather stool out from under the breakfast bar and waits for me to sit down. From one of the wall cabinets, he removes a bottle of Jack, and two chunky crystal glasses, then pours a generous slug into each. He hands one of the glasses to me.
“You probably don’t want it,” he says, “but it will help with the shock.”
I sip the liquid and grimace as it goes down.
Nick leans against the opposite counter watching me closely. “Sienna, I know that no one can replace the work that you’ve lost tonight, but I want to help. And before you tell me there’s nothing I can do—” his eyebrows slide upwards creating faint creases below his immaculate hairline “—just remember that you don’t have to deal with any of this alone.”
I swallow a mouthful of Jack this time, hiding behind the glass because it’s easier than thinking.
“What I’m trying to say,” he continues regardless, “is that I’m here to support you any way I can.”
“Thank you.” My voice is thick with emotion.
“Do you have any idea who might’ve done this?”
The liquor is still burning inside my gullet. I vaguely recall Kyle accusing my father of creating an alibi for himself in the casino tonight, but somehow, I can’t connect him to the person who trashed my work.
Why would he do this?
What would he achieve by destroying everything I’ve worked so hard for when he has only just come back into my life?
But the thought that he had my keys is niggling away inside my head, scratching at the surface to make me search deeper. He didn’t have the gallery keys. I had them. But he also lied about what time he came home that night, so maybe he stole the key and got a replica made while I was trying to sleep.
I don’t understand what possible motive he might have though.
“Do you think someone is jealous of what you’ve achieved?” Nick is still pursuing the subject.
“I-I can’t think of anyone.”
He knocks back his drink and refills his glass. He hasn’t told me where he has been or why he didn’t call—not that he owes me an explanation—but I can’t help thinking that it’s another coincidence that he just happens to come back the night the gallery is broken into.
“Look, Sienna, it pains me to say this, so I’m just going to get it out there and then we can move on, okay?” I don’t speak, and he continues anyway. “Do you think Kyle Murray is involved somehow?” He flinches theatrically as Kyle’s name hangs between us.
A vivid image of Kyle telling me that I’m beautiful pops into my head, and my heart does this weird fluttery thing that sends knee-trembling signals down my spine at the same time. Tell me to walk away, and you’ll never see me again . Kyle went to Ireland to give me space. Why would he come back and then do the one thing that would hurt me the most?
I try to picture Kyle giving the order to destroy my artwork and stage it to look like a break-in. He might be part of a ruthless and successful mafia family, but I know he isn’t a monster, despite the way my thoughts were spiraling earlier.
“No.” Too feeble. I clear my throat. “No, he would never do something like that.”
Nick’s glass hovers in front of his lips. “Okay, I believe you.” His tone implies the opposite. “I won’t mention it again.”
“Do you know my father?” The question bursts out of nowhere.
“Your father?” His lips twist into a bewildered smile; I’m sure it’s supposed to be endearing, but inexplicably it reminds me of Kaa the python snake from Disney’s The Jungle Book . “Should I know him?”
Deep breath. My pulse is racing, pumping some heat back into my body. Or maybe it’s the alcohol that’s making me warm. “You spoke to him outside the gallery one day. It looked as though you knew each other.”
He shakes his head and spreads his hands wide. “I don’t remember speaking to anyone. Perhaps we exchanged a greeting in passing.”
“Perhaps.” It’s entirely feasible, so why is my gut telling me that he’s lying?
“Are you hungry, Sienna? Have you eaten?”
I haven’t, but I can’t face the thought of food.
“I appreciate you bringing me back here, Nick.” I set my glass down on the counter, if I drink more, I’ll be sick. “But I think I should go.”
“Why?” His eyes are wide, and he rubs one hand across his smooth chin. “Where will you go? My offer of the spare room still stands, Sienna. I don’t think that you should be alone, even if it’s only for tonight.”
“I’ll be fine. I just want to crawl into bed and forget about everything for a few hours.” I can’t even summon the energy to smile.
“Please stay.” He moves closer. “I won’t get in your way, I promise. I’ll feel better knowing that you’re not alone, and if you decide that you want to talk, I’ll be here for that too.”
“I don’t know, Nick.”
I want him to leave me alone. After what happened at my father’s apartment, I simply want to go home, pull on some comfy pajamas, and bury myself under my own comforter, but I still can’t bring myself to be openly rude to him; he’s only trying to help.
“One night, Sienna. Give yourself a break and allow me to take care of you for one night.”
I smile despite my misgivings.
He takes another step closer.
“Nick, I can’t…”
I can’t what?
I can’t share your bed because there’s someone else.
I can’t kiss you because I know how it feels to be kissed by Kyle.
I can’t pretend any longer that you’d be the perfect boyfriend because no one makes me feel the way I feel when I’m with Kyle Murray.
Without warning, Nick slides a tiny box from the pocket of his pants and drops onto one knee. He snaps open the box to reveal a diamond ring that glints as it catches the overhead light. I’m blinded by it momentarily. Not by the diamond itself, all I can see is the glimmer like a star exploding in the palm of his hand, but by what’s about to follow.
“Sienna, will you marry me?”
Yep. There it is. The unexpected proposal by a man who’s so sure of himself that he hasn’t considered my response might not be what he wants to hear.
I’m still staring at the diamond.
What the actual fuck is going on here?
My heart is galloping, making me breathless.
“Nick, I wasn’t expecting…” My brain can’t form a coherent thought and transfer it to my mouth. “I don’t know what to…”
That’s untrue. I do know what to say.
No!
What is wrong with me that I can’t say it out loud? I’m not afraid of how he might react to being rejected, but I am afraid of hurting his feelings. He would never willingly hurt me, I’m certain of it, he has simply made a terrible error of judgement regarding our relationship.
“You don’t have to say anything right now, Sienna. I realize that I’ve caught you by surprise, and my timing is probably way out with what happened tonight. But I know how I feel about you and…”
He inhales deeply, his face lighting up with his smile and making me feel even worse.
“…well… I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Take as long as you need. We have all the time in the world.”
He rises, and I follow his movements with my eyes still on the diamond in his hand.
Trembling, he closes the box and leaves it on the counter. Then he refills our glasses, clinks them together, and downs his drink in one.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so nervous.” He leans back against the opposite counter, giving me space, and demonstrates his trembling hands with a shaky smile.
I’m uncomfortably aware that I haven’t spoken, but I don’t trust myself to let him down gently. “I wasn’t expecting this, Nick. I haven’t heard from you in days.”
His smile broadens. “I wanted to speak to my family before I proposed. I guess I wanted their blessing. Not that I needed it. But I wanted this to be perfect for you, Sienna.”
He pauses, “Then some fucker went and ruined it by breaking into your gallery.”
I avoid looking at the box containing the diamond ring. I try not to think about Kyle fixing up the gallery.
Nick and I have only dated a few times. Sure, I’ve known him for five and a half years, but as a doctor and patient. It’s hardly the same as building the foundations for our future together. I always thought this kind of spontaneous proposal only happened in the movies.
I guess I was wrong.
“I’m going to shower; it’s been a long day.” He straightens, fingers flexing as if undecided whether he should leave the engagement ring where it is or move it out of sight. “Please, make yourself at home, Sienna.”
Home?
The thought of making this my home, a home to be shared with Nick, makes me feel slightly queasy. But I put it down to a combination of recent events and the Jack Daniels on an empty stomach.
“The spare room is ready for you,” Nick continues, oblivious. “There’s wine in the fridge. Takeout menus in the letter rack.” He gestures to a gleaming chrome rack on the end of the counter. “Tonight is yours, Sienna.”
He takes my hand, raises it to his lips, and then leaves me alone in the kitchen while he makes his way to the bathroom.
I can feel the imprint of his lips on the back of my hand. I try rubbing it on my sweater, but it makes no difference. His cologne is clinging to my clothes. I can’t breathe without his scent filling my lungs and making me choke.
I can’t stay here.
I jump off the stool. With one final glance at the jewelry box on the counter, wishing that I’d imagined the whole thing, I tiptoe along the hallway and past the bathroom. I unhook my coat and drape it over one arm, holding my breath as I open the front door. I can still hear the shower running as I let myself out and close the door behind me.
The night is bitterly cold. The sidewalk sparkles with the first layer of frost, and my footsteps crunch as I walk along the streets of Manhattan. I don’t put my coat on. The biting chill is grounding me, blowing the fog from my head, and making my cheeks sting.
I don’t understand Nick’s proposal out of the blue. He hasn’t even tried to kiss me on a date yet, but I guess he has old-fashioned principles, which is why he sought his family’s blessing first. Even with this in mind though, I still can’t make it all add up.
Then there’s the gallery.
My heart does a backflip each time I think about it. Kyle will tidy the gallery and make it secure, but no one can replace the artwork that I’ve lost. It’s a mammoth task, starting afresh, but I have my own art studio now. If I have to concentrate on new commissions to begin with, that’s what I’ll do.
The despair I felt when I saw the broken canvases isn’t quite the big black hole that I felt myself sinking into when the police officer was questioning me. It’s still there. I know that I could slip into it at any moment, but right now, I need to figure out what to do about Nick.
I walk until I can’t feel my fingers and toes, and my thighs are stinging from the cold. But I keep moving. Each step is taking me closer to the one person who will help me make sense of my emotions, because I understand that the problem with Nick’s proposal isn’t Nick. It’s me.
Standing outside the entrance to the sheer black tower known as the Wraith, I check the time on my phone. Ten-thirty. It feels like it should be hours later. Maybe I should have called Victoria in advance, but I’m praying that she’ll be awake with the baby and will be happy to see me. Besides, it’s about time I visited my goddaughter.
The heat inside the lobby is stifling after the sub-zero temperatures outside.
The concierge eyes up my clothes and smudged makeup and approaches me before I’ve taken a few steps. He’s naturally suspicious when I tell him that I’m visiting the penthouse apartment, and I almost cry out loud when Victoria answers his call. I haven’t seen her since Holly was born less than a fortnight ago, but it feels as if it has been years.
My legs are shaking as the elevator carries me up to the fiftieth story.
I haven’t eaten since breakfast, but the thought of food makes my insides churn, and I clamp a hand over my mouth as the elevator glides to a halt.
The doors open into the apartment, and I hear voices coming from the living area. Low voices, so as not to disturb the baby, but I recognize them instantly.
Victoria and Caleb are not alone.
Kyle is here.