Chapter 12
“This isn’t supposedto be our next stop,” Lily complains, smoothing her dress. Her brow furrows as she takes in the unfamiliar surroundings, confusion etched on her face. “And where did you get this dress?”
“Zoe,” I respond, my tone casual, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Really, my sister sent it to you?” Lily’s eyes widen, her mouth falling open in disbelief.
She’s really not going to let this go, is she? It’s pretty simple. Lily has been talking about this artist she loves, James something. I searched and he’s having an exhibition today. I called Zoe asking if she could talk to Max’s shopper at Neiman Marcus. It was pretty simple, but it seems like Lily doesn’t want to accept the offer or she wants to complicate it.
I scoff, rolling my eyes. “Why does it matter?”
We’re darting through New York City in a cab, the city lights streaking past us. The energy of the city is electric, and I can feel it thrumming through my veins.
Lily turns to me, her eyes wide with excitement, a grin spreading across her face. “No, it doesn’t. I’ve been dreaming of seeing James’s work in person for so long. And now . . . I’m meeting him. This feels surreal.”
The moment the cab pulls up in front of the gallery, Lily practically leaps out of the car, her excitement palpable. She’s bouncing on the balls of her feet, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. I pay the cab driver, my hands moving on autopilot, because all I can focus on is Lily’s beautiful face. The way her smile lights up her entire being, the way her hair falls in soft waves around her shoulders.
As we enter the gallery, it”s like stepping into a whole new world, one where art reigns supreme. The space is alive, practically buzzing with energy and bursting with color. Lily reaches for my hand, her fingers effortlessly lacing with mine. The warmth of her touch ignites a flurry of emotions within me, and it hits me that I”ve never been big on hand-holding or the whole dating scene. But with Lily, it”s different. It feels natural, like this is exactly where I”m meant to be.
“Can you believe we’re actually here?” Lily looks up at me, her eyes shining with wonder. Her smile is so genuine, so full of joy, that it takes my breath away.
“You better believe it,” I say, my voice soft, almost reverent.
Lily’s fingers tighten around mine, and she leans into me, her body warm and soft against my side. “I know I’ve been complaining that we’re not moving fast enough to reach the other nine guys,” she confesses, her tone apologetic. “But I really appreciate you bringing me here.”
I look down at her, my heart swelling with an emotion I can’t quite name. “The important thing about this trip is that you discover everything about your past and find your future—this might be part of it, you know.”
Lily’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, the world around us fades away. She rises on her tiptoes, her face inching closer to mine, and my breath catches in my throat. Her lips brush against my cheek, soft and fleeting, but the sensation lingers long after she pulls away. My skin tingles where her lips touched, and I fight the urge to reach up and touch the spot.
As we step inside, the sounds of chatty enthusiasts wrap around us like a warm embrace. The gallery is modern, all clean lines and stark white walls, but the artwork brings it to life. Servers weave through the crowd with trays of canapés, and a sleek wine bar sits in the corner.
The artwork is different, not what I’m used to. Forms and abstract shapes dance next to vivid landscapes that seem plucked from dreams. The colors are bold, the lines fluid, and I find myself drawn in, captivated by the sheer emotion on display.
“Look at this one.” Lily’s voice pitches high with enthusiasm as she points to a canvas swirled with indigo and gold, stars exploding across a midnight sky. “It’s like the universe is singing.”
I tilt my head, studying the painting, and I can almost hear the melody. “Is that what the universe sounds like?” I tease, but honestly, I get it. There’s something about the painting that pulls you in, wraps around your chest, and makes you feel infinite.
“Exactly like this,” she says, her voice suddenly soft, awestruck. Lily turns to me, her quirky, endearing smile in place, and for a second, I’m not looking at the painting anymore. I’m caught up in the galaxies of her eyes, the constellations I find there. My heart stutters in my chest, and I realize that I could spend a lifetime exploring the depths of her soul.
“Hey, Earth to Ethan.” She nudges my arm, pulling me back from the brink of being utterly lost in her orbit.
I blink, shaking my head to clear the haze. “Right, sorry. I was just thinking how these artists probably started out with ideas and a blank page.”
Lily nods, her expression thoughtful. “And look what they created. It’s inspiring, isn’t it?”
“It is,” I agree, but as I look at her, I know that the true inspiration is standing right beside me.
“Look at this one,” Lily points to a canvas awash with bold strokes of cerulean and emerald, her finger tracing the air where the colors meet. Her eyes sparkle with wonder, and I can’t help but be drawn in by her excitement. “It’s like the ocean met the sky right there on the canvas.”
I lean closer, my shoulder brushing against hers, and I feel a spark at the contact. “Or maybe they’ve always been secret lovers,” I say, my voice low and intimate, “and this is their clandestine meeting place.”
“You’re such a charmer, even to the paintings.”
“Only the best for my fellow adventurer.” I wink at her, and I’m rewarded with a faint blush that colors her cheeks.
“Come on, there’s more to see,” Lily says, her vivacity infectious as she pulls me further into the gallery. We weave through the crowd, stopping to admire each piece, our heads bent together as we discuss the intricacies of the artwork. Lily’s passion is palpable, and I find myself getting lost in her words, in the way her face lights up when she talks about the brushstrokes and the color palettes.
“Can you believe the texture on this one?” A woman beside me points to a canvas that looks like a thunderstorm made love to a rainbow. Her voice pulls me out of my Lily-induced trance, and I blink, trying to focus on the painting in front of me.
“Absolutely,” I agree, because what else is there to say? I don’t understand it, but I can appreciate it—the passion, the effort. Isn’t that what business is all about too? Pouring everything into something and hoping it resonates with someone else?
The woman turns to me, her eyes gleaming with curiosity, or maybe it’s just the gallery lights. “Are you familiar with the artist?” she asks, her head tilted slightly to the side.
I feel a moment of panic, but I quickly mask it with a confident smile. “Ah, somewhat,” I hedge, my tone casual. “I’ve heard great things.” It’s not a total lie. Lily’s been buzzing about James’s work for a couple of days.
“His use of color is quite revolutionary,” she continues, and I nod as if I’ve got any clue what makes one color choice more revolutionary than another.
“Revolutionary is the word,” I say with a confidence that feels more at home in a pitch meeting than an art gallery. “Changes the whole landscape of modern art.” I add a thoughtful stroke to my chin, hoping it makes me look insightful. I mean, that’s what I read when I was searching for this dude, so it must be true, right?
“Speaking of James . . .” My sentence trails off as I spot Lily edging closer to a man standing alone, his attention fixed on one of the more striking pieces in the gallery. Her stride is hesitant yet determined, like she’s about to face her greatest challenge head-on. That must be him—the reason we’re here.
I feel a twinge of something in my chest, a mixture of pride and apprehension. Lily’s been dreaming of this moment for so long, and I want it to be everything she’s hoped for. But a part of me also wonders what it means for us, for this journey we’ve embarked on together.
“Excuse me,” I murmur, slipping away from the woman beside me. My eyes never leave Lily as I make my way through the crowd, drawn to her like a moth to a flame.
“Eth, that’s him. That’s James,” Lily whispers as I approach, her voice quivering with excitement. Her eyes are wide, her cheeks flushed, and I can practically feel the nervous energy radiating off her.
I place a hand on her shoulder, feeling the tension there. “Go talk to him, Lily,” I encourage, giving her a gentle squeeze. “It’s now or never.”
She takes in a deep breath, steeling herself, and I watch as she transforms before my eyes. Gone is the nervous fan girl, replaced by a confident, passionate woman ready to seize her moment.
“Hi, I’m Lily Harper,” she begins, extending a hand that trembles ever so slightly. “I’ve been following your work for years.”
James turns,and even from where I stand, I can see the warmth in his smile. There’s something about the way he regards her, like she’s not just another fan, but a woman with a unique perspective, a kindred spirit in the world of art.
“Your use of color is incredible,” Lily says, gesturing to the painting—a whirlwind of emotion on canvas. “It’s like you’re not just seeing the world, but feeling it, too.”
“Thank you,” James says, his voice deep and thoughtful. “Art, for me, is about translating those intangible emotions into something visual, something palpable.”
Lily nods, her eyes tracing the contours of the painting before them. The colors seem to dance in response to her gaze, and I wonder if maybe she can actually feel the textures and shapes like he does. It’s like they’re speaking a language all their own, one that I can only hope to understand.
“I’ve always beena bit envious of that ability,” she confesses, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her voice is soft, vulnerable, and I feel a sudden urge to wrap her in my arms, to protect her from the uncertainty that comes with baring your soul.
“Ah,but who says there isn’t fear?” James counters gently, leaning closer. His tone is soft, inviting confidence. “When you lose it, the fear, you lose your inspiration and reason to continue. It’s a leap of faith.”
“Leaps of faitharen’t really my strong suit,” Lily admits, her gaze dropping to the floor. Her shoulders slump slightly, and I can see the self-doubt creeping in, threatening to overshadow the confidence she’d found just moments ago.
James tilts his head, studying her with a gentle, understanding smile. “Maybe not yet,” he replies, his encouragement as vibrant as the hues surrounding them. “But every artist has their own voice, their own vision. Yours is just waiting for the right moment to soar.”
I watch Lily absorb his words, her shoulders relaxing, her smile genuine and no longer tinged with uncertainty. It’s like witnessing a flower unfurl its petals to the sun—tentative at first, but growing bolder with each passing second. The transformation is breathtaking, and I feel a swell of pride in my chest.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to keep doing rounds,” James says, his voice apologetic as he glances around the crowded gallery. He places a gentle hand on Lily’s shoulder. “But please, keep in touch. I’d love to see more of your work.”
“Thank you, James,” Lily says. “For your time, art, and encouragement.”
“Keep exploring, Lily,” James encourages, his voice warm and sincere. He takes her hand in both of his, a gesture of support and camaraderie. “There’s no one else who can capture your art better than you.”
“Okay, I will,” Lily promises, her eyes shining with determination. She squeezes his hand, a silent thank you, and I feel a twinge of something in my chest, a mixture of pride and longing.
As we step out of the gallery, the cool night air washes over us, a refreshing change from the warmth and intensity inside. Lily takes a deep breath, her face tilted up to the sky, and I can see the joy and contentment written across her features.
She turns to me, her eyes soft and grateful. “Thank you for all of this, Ethan.” She leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to my cheek, and I feel my heart skip a beat at the unexpected contact.
I reach out, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, my fingers lingering on the soft skin of her cheek. “It was nothing.”
And so, with a final squeeze of her hand, I step back, a smile on my face. “Come on, let’s get out of here. We have to rest, there’s a lot more coming tomorrow.”
Lily nods. “Lead the way, Ethan.”
There are many other places I would like to lead her and that beautiful curvy body, but I abstain.
But for how long will I have to do it?