24. Gwen
CHAPTER 24
GWEN
FOUR MONTHS LATER
“ A re you nervous?” Silas asks.
I shrug.“No. Maybe. Okay, I am.”
“I understand why you’re nervous but I don’t think you need to be.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“Are you forgetting who you’re talking to? I’ve had fights in venues with almost twenty thousand people attending and they’ve broadcast live on TV. I know what it’s like to be nervous, but it helps if you think about why we experience nerves in the first place.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I say, “Okay, smarty pants, tell me why I feel like my legs are weak and I might puke my guts up at any second.”
“If you’re talking about biologically, it’s your body’s stress response. It’s a boost in adrenaline production. But if you’re talking emotionally, my personal opinion is we get nervous about the outcome of something when it involves something we care about. If you weren’t passionate about art, would it matter how tonight goes?”
“No.”
“Exactly. You love painting, and as a result, you want to be successful at it. You’re emotionally invested in your artwork, which makes you worry about the outcome of tonight’s show, which then triggers your body’s stress response. It’s pretty amazing how it all happens,” he says.
“I don’t care why it happens. How do I stop it? Because I’m pretty sure I’m going to pee my pants out there. It’s like a who’s who of Charleston. I’m so freaking nervous I can’t even remember who I am.” I look at Silas. “Who are you?”
He laughs. “You still have your sense of humor, so you’re doing just fine. And just so you know and have less to worry about, you don’t need to remember your name. There are plaques next to each of your paintings that have the title of the artwork and your name.”
“Thank you. That’s good to know. That doesn’t help me with the pee-my-pants part, though.”
“Not to be Captain Obvious, but you’re wearing a dress. No pants means no peeing your pants. Boom!” He pretends to drop a microphone. “What other crises do I need to solve?”
“That’s it for now, but stay close in case that changes. I’m going to use the bathroom once more just to be safe. I’ll be right back.” My heels tap as I hurry inside the private bathroom that’s in the back of the gallery where my show is being held.
After I’ve made sure there’s nothing left in my bladder, I wash my hands and check out my reflection in the mirror over the sink. My hair is curled to perfection, thanks to Demi, and I’m wearing the necklace Silas gave me for my birthday. It reminds me of how strong I am. Though the scar on my face is a better symbol than anything could be. Speaking of my scar, it’s barely noticeable right now, thanks to Maeve’s impeccable makeup application. Although, I’m not nearly as hung up about other people seeing it anymore.
Silas was right when he told me time would take care of some of my healing, but I know the rest was up to me… is up to me . I’m still healing and growing stronger every day. I’m a work in progress who loves where life has taken her and where life will take her. Because without those hard times I faced, I wouldn’t have met Silas, and I can’t imagine my day-to-day existence without him in it.
What he and I have isn’t your average love. We’ve both suffered tremendous losses and made it through to the other side. I think our souls recognize that in each other. Or maybe fate is real because we were destined to meet.
I think he’s my reward for what I’ve endured.
When I come out of the bathroom, Silas is standing with his hands in the pockets of his dress pants, waiting for me. “I thought maybe you fell in and I was going to have to rescue you.” His smile is teasing.
I laugh. “Fortunately, it was a psycho-free bathroom, but it’s good that you’re prepared.”
“Always.” He holds his arm out. “Shall we?”
“Yes.” I place my hand in the crook of his elbow and draw in a long, slow breath like Taylor taught me.
Leaning over, he presses a kiss to my temple and draws back. “What are you so nervous about? You’re Little Miss Dangerous. You’re a sexy badass who’s been to hell and back. There’s nothing you can’t do.”
Trying not to cry, I press my lips together and nod. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Somehow, I get my rubbery legs to carry me out into the gallery where art enthusiasts are already wandering around.
I hold on to Silas’s arm tighter. “I feel like I’m going to puke. But on a good note, I don’t have to pee yet,” I tell him.
He laughs. “This will be over before you know it and you’ll be wishing it wasn’t. I want you to enjoy every single second.”
“I will. You’re with me.” As soon as I utter those words, I realize the outcome of tonight is the be-all and end-all for me. No matter what, I’ll be going home with Silas at the end of the night.
Betsy, the gallery owner walks toward me, smiling. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you. I have so much makeup on I feel like one of my paintings,” I joke.
“I’ve already had offers on four of your pieces,” she says.
“Which ones? I ask.
“ Beach Day , Drowning , The Fighter, and…” She glances at Silas. “The other one.”
“That one’s not for sale.”
“Are you sure? They’re offering a lot of money for it.”
“Yes, it’s non-negotiable.”
“Very well.” She nods. “Let me introduce you to some people.”
“I’d like that,” I say, slipping my arm from Silas’s. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
He smiles. “Take your time. I heard this artist is pretty talented, so I’m going to check out her work.”
“Let me know if the competition is steep.” I wink and walk off with Betsy.
“You’re a lucky lady,” she says.
I nod. “I know I am. He’s… It’s hard to even put into words what he’s done for me.”
Betsy smiles. “I have to admit, I was shocked when I saw him with you. I didn’t realize he was your boyfriend and your inspiration for The Fighter .”
“He’s inspired a lot of my art lately.”
“That’s so sweet. So if anyone else expresses interest in more paintings like The Fighter , would you be willing to sell any of the others you have of him?”
“Yes, I could do that.”
“Fantastic.”
Betsy leads me around the gallery, introducing me to more people than I can remember, and every one of them seems to hold some position of importance or has more money than they can spend.
I wave Silas over before I introduce her to my family. She just about loses it when she finds out my dad is the Trey Ledger, owner of the Coyotes. And she’s in for an even bigger surprise when Ryder Goode and his wife come over to us. Betsy falls under his spell as he naturally charms her. His wife Calista is not only beautiful but kind. She compliments my artwork and inquires about a wall mural for a nursery. She leans in conspiratorially and tells me she’s fifteen weeks pregnant but they haven’t shared the news with anyone outside of family.
“I would love to help you out with that. I actually painted a seascape mural for my boyfriend’s sister. It was a lot of fun. I don’t have business cards yet.” I grimace. “This is still kind of new for me, but you can get in touch with me through my dad or Betsy.”
“I have a feeling you’re going to need to get used to a massive amount of success soon. I’m just glad I’m getting you booked before you don’t have time.” She leans in, giving me a quick hug. “I’ll be in touch soon.”
When she moves back to her husband’s side I make wide eyes at Silas and mouth, “Oh my God.”
He smiles and mouths back, “You’re killing it . ”
“Betsy, I’m going to show Silas something. You know where I am if you need me.”
She gives me a look of understanding and nods before she goes back to hobnobbing with the wealthy patrons.
Catching hold of Silas’s hand, I thread our fingers together. “There’s something I want to show you.” I lead him through the crowd and around the corner to a long white wall where two paintings hang. I stop at the first one that’s titled Drowning . There’s a red dot on the label indicating it’s been sold. “Did I ever tell you what inspired this?” I ask.
“You said a dream but didn’t elaborate.”
“It was really a nightmare I had where I was sinking deeper and deeper down into the murky depths of the water, and I knew I was drowning. In fact, your face was the last thing I saw before I woke.”
“Why haven’t you told me that before now?”
“When it happened, you and I weren’t together yet. And after… I don’t know why. Maybe because I’m in such a better place now it didn’t seem important.” I tug on his hand. “There’s something else I want you to see.” We move over to the other painting and I put my hand over the label so he can’t see the title. “Remember the first time I painted again and I told you how excited I was about the piece? That I thought it was my best work?”
“Yes, you were practically bouncing off the walls afterward.”
“This is the painting that inspired that reaction.” We stand there studying it.
He turns to me and smiles. “This is the opposite of the other painting. You’re floating on top of the water with your face in the sun. It is you, right?”
I nod. “It’s me.”
“And you’ve made it through the darkness and back to the light.”
“Yes.”
“What’s the title?” he asks, as if he’s holding his breath.
“ Fighting my way back .”