Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
“I choose not to be sad,” Lizzy said to herself, locking the front door to her brownstone.
“You are sitting on a rainbow.” Unlike today, every other day spent at La Tempera brought out her smile because even though she no longer painted, she was knee-deep in the art world, helping others to get a leg up by sharing their talent with New Yorkers.
The gallery brought her immense joy, touching a hole that could never truly be filled.
Today, she forced a smile, resorting to extreme measures of vocalized reassurance and positive affirmations.
Looking on the bright side of things was never a choice, but embracing negativity was.
Holding onto her inner light had been a challenge of late and even harder this morning because she left her radiance in his arms on the moonlit beach.
Seducing William was not only the most singularly stupid and selfish thing she’d done in a long time, but simultaneously the most honest and joyful thing she’d done in a year.
She would never deny her heart again, and acknowledging that George was entirely wrong for her was the first step in taking back her life.
Reconnecting with William exposed the truth she had turned a blind eye to.
George found no value in her beyond his personal gain.
He didn’t love her as she should be loved.
He wasn’t a gentleman of integrity or sincerity.
He stood for nothing of honor. He, much like she had become, was a charlatan—only his energy was dark and hers was once light.
William was light, too, but he was betrothed to another, and she would not interfere.
She must move on and hope that true love would knock on her door again.
“It will. You will find authentic love again.”
Still, she wanted to cry, not wanting to let go of William now that she’d found him again. Albeit drunk on Saturday night, he’d said he still loved her.
Forcing another smile, she pulled back her shoulders, raised her chin, and descended the brownstone steps to the car waiting to take her to the gallery.
“You got this, Lizzy.”
“Darling! How was it? Who was there? What did you wear? Did you mention the gallery?” Guy brightly greeted the moment she entered the back office.
“Ugh,” she replied dropping her bag on the desk.
“That bad?”
“Ugh. It was worse than bad. I mean, the Hamptons venue was beautiful, and the bride and groom were happy but then ... Hurst, our client, peed on a potted plant in front of the editor of NYC Bride magazine, brightly declaring, ‘Hey, when you gotta go, you gotta go.’” Chuckling, she shook her head.
Guy laughed. “Ay caramba!”
Plopping into the chair, she said. “And, the bride’s sister is our new acquisition client, Carrie Bingley.”
“A referral! What a happy coincidence!”
“Happy?—not by a long shot. Ms. Bingley is marrying my ex, the one and only love of my life, William Darcy.”
“Oh! Manhattan’s newest billion-dollar darling who I read makes the dearly departed John-John look like Quasimodo.”
She nodded. “Yes, he does. William was handsome years ago, but now ... wow.” She fanned her neck with her hand.
“Is he ... the son ... Anne Darcy’s son?”
“Yes. She introduced us.”
“This is ... oh dear ... what else happened? Spill. The. Steaming. Tea. All of it—all over me!” He placed his thumb on his lips and shivered with glee. Squealing, “It’s getting tres juicy!”
“William punched George in the face,” she moaned, cradling her forehead in her palm.
“Finally, someone had the cajónes to do it! Simply magnifique!” He pinched his fingers, kissing their tips.
“Not funny.”
Pouring two coffees, he said, “It most certainly is, my little dove. Your fiancé is a certifiable slimeball, and you are far too good for his sorry, flat ass.” He placed her Monet Water Lilies mug on the desk, then dragged a chair across from her.
“Tell me more about the old flame billionaire, the drunken client, and the perverted slimeball. I’m all ears. ”
“The knockdown was so bad, Guy, it was all over the internet this morning!”
“You made the news?”
“Not me. I ran out of the reception before the press could get their hands on me.”
“Good thinking. Scandal is the last thing an art gallery needs. We’re not Hollywood.”
“Exactly. Oh, and Jane was at the wedding, too. She was dating the client’s brother, Charlie.”
“Yeesh. One big happy family.” He grimaced. “I see where this is going.”
“You couldn’t possibly imagine just how bad it was.
William knows it was Jane who had a hand in breaking us up, and he told his soon-to-be brother-in-law slash personal lawyer, Charlie, which caused Jane to have a raging breakdown on the way home because the guy wisely dumped her.
” She shook her head. “It’s such a mess.
I’m afraid to call her because she blames me for everything.
We’re in the stonewalling stage now, but not before she told me what a terrible sister I am.
Me! The doormat that manages her life and emotions because she’s too entitled. ”
“Ah, Jane, the agent of chaos strikes again. Mon Dieu! It’s not like I haven’t told you: ‘Don’t set yourself on fire to keep someone else warm’.”
“But ... this time it was me who messed up, not her. I danced with William ... and ... and it was so good. I’m so ashamed, Guy.”
He gasped. “You slept with him!” He clapped and cheered. “Good girl!”
Again, she cradled her forehead. “Worse. I seduced him when he was drunk. Oh, God. I couldn’t stop myself. I still love him.”
“This is like watching one of those deliciously crazy Mexican telenovelas! Sex! Cheating! Emotional vampires at every blood-sucking turn, and glorious amore! What could possibly go wrong that a good shag can’t remedy?”
“He’s engaged to the client.”
“A small impediment, and you’re engaged to the slimeball.”
“Yes, but not for too much longer. I was an absolute idiot to think I could spend a lifetime with George.”
“Well, that takes care of the impediment and is mucho, mucho good news!” All smiles, he sang, “It’s a beautiful day today!”
“As soon as I see George, I’m going to break off the engagement. Ugh,” she sighed. “That’s not a conversation I’m looking forward to.”
“Shall I call a locksmith?”
“There’s no need. He’s harmless, but I have to put my big girl panties on sometime and face my fears.”
Guy leaned forward and whispered. “You must spill all the tea. Was billionaire sex good?”
She chuckled. “It always was good—even before he was a billionaire. I felt like I reconnected with the other half of my soul. It was the most incredible night of my life.”
“That would explain the glow. Ohhhh, I haven’t had that glow in ages. How did you leave things with him? Will you see him again? When is your next sex romp?”
“I left him on the beach just before dawn. Guy, I couldn’t be a homewrecker to our client, his fiancée. I hurt him once. I won’t do it again.”
“La mierda! Lizzy, baby. You have much to learn about the pursuit of happiness. Take it from me, all things are fair in love and war.”
“Not in this case. I watched them. She’s beautiful and intelligent, and he’s so in love with her. They’re like the perfect power couple. I’m just ... me.”
“Poppycock! Will you let me be of use for a change? I’m willing to help you get your man.”
She softly smiled for the dear friend had come to her rescue so many times since their initial acquaintance when she returned home from Paris.
“You’re a sweetheart, but I have to cope with this one on my own.
He’s someone else’s man now.” Facepalming, she shook her head.
“Dear God, my life has turned into a Sex in the City episode.”
“I love that show! But, take my advice. Do not tittle-tattle to the queen of psychodrama. Let her think everything is honkey dory with the slimeball until you have Mr. Darcy’s heart firmly in hand, and if you win it, don’t let it go for anyone or anything.”
There was no placing Mr. Darcy’s heart in her hand. He was off limits.
The conversation was interrupted by a telephone call, and Guy watched how her frown turned upside down as the caller asked her for help.
… “Yes. That sounds wonderful Mr. Gleason! On behalf of Mr. Bernard and myself, we would be delighted to show your new collection at La Tempera. I have been a fan of your work for quite some time. It would be an honor.”
Guy’s hands flew to his cheeks when his chin dropped.
“September? That’s perfect. I look forward to meeting with you and your assistant on Friday to discuss marketing and promotion, catering, and contract details. Thank you so much for the opportunity. You won’t be disappointed.”
She hung up, shocked, unable to speak.
“Dare I say, this sounds like it may be the best day of my life. Well, apart from that June afternoon in Athens in ’78, of course.” Guy said.
“Wyn Gleason wants our gallery to exhibit his latest egg tempera western collection.” Bouncing in her seat she said, “Someone at the wedding told him about us and that I’m from Wyoming.
Oh, my goodness! Guy, we’re talking an A-list patron reception for a premier fine artist and a month-long exhibit at a thirty percent commission! I can finally pay you back!”
“Oh, honey. I couldn't care less about that. This is all about you and La Tempera!”
“Wyn Gleason ... Unfathomable.”
“See, you went to the society wedding, hobnobbed with the rich and famous, fell back in love, un asunto de amor! and realized that it was time to dump the slimeball.” He sighed, so very happy.
“I’d say, my little protégé has gotten her groove back.
Next, you’ll be wearing those fantastic cowgirl boots to the gallery. As you say, ‘Yeehaw!”
She laughed. Guy always had the ability to set her back on course.
“Now, let me tell you about the upcoming Sotheby’s auction in Paris on the second. There’s a Seurat, and for the gallery’s visibility on the world stage you must attend a live auction,” he said.
“As much as I would love to go back to Paris, I can’t do that.”
“You can, you must, and you will. Look, darling, this is an all-expense paid trip to get out of the city and get your head together.”
“True, but traveling with William’s fiancée? Knowing what he and I did on the beach? How can I look her in the face?”