Chapter 46
Chapter Forty-Six
I meet Noah at the Rose, about five minutes away from the pub for lunch, and another five minutes away in the opposite direction of his flat.
Noah gives me a big hug on sight after he lets me into his studio.
He grabs his wallet, and we soon head downstairs to the main floor, past a common area where a sign-making station’s set up.
Ellie glances up from painting a sign. She grins at me, paintbrush in hand. “Hey, Matty. Good to see you.”
“What’re you up to?” I ask.
“Saving the Rose. Obviously.” She beams at me.
It’s like I’ve been sucker punched. And I feel a little nauseous. It’s the empty stomach, I tell myself.
“We’re all making signs,” Noah explains. “For an event.”
“And to put around Brighton,” Ellie adds, leaning over her board to touch up some letters in red acrylic paint. She considers her lettering and glances over at me. “Raise awareness. And money. You know.”
“Yeah.” I swallow hard, torn between my friends and Florian and upset I’m even in this position. “I get it.”
“We’re off for lunch. Come by the pub later if you’re free,” Noah tells Ellie, then claps my shoulder. “Let’s go.”
Before long, we’re down at the pub, seated at a picnic table with pints. Noah grins at me. “Hey, stranger. We’ve all been wondering how you’re doing.”
I feel a little wrung out from the morning and shrug. “I’m living in Glynde right now. Got sacked from my job.”
“That’s where you are, not how you are. I know the difference, mate.” Noah lifts his eyebrows. “You got sacked? Shit, man.”
“Yeah. Bit of a disaster.” I shake my head. “My boss had it out for me.”
“And now what?”
I shake my head slowly. “I don’t know. I feel a little lost, to be honest.”
Noah considers me. “Back to London, or are you staying in Glynde for more than a couple of days?”
“I also don’t know. I’m in Glynde for now. I gave up my London room. To be honest, I don’t even know if I want to make art anymore.” I stare into my pint, my fingers curled around the glass.
“Fuck. This doesn’t sound like you, Matty. Are you alright?”
I shrug. “Yes. No. I don’t know.” My eyes flood for a moment. A very inopportune time to feel emotional when I’ve barely touched my lager to use the beer as an excuse. Not that I really need to hide my feelings from Noah. I’m a mess, let’s be honest.
“What’s happening with Florian? You looked really happy at the wedding.” Paul and Caden’s wedding feels like a million years ago. Like all of that happened to another Matty. “He was here yesterday, you know,” Noah tells me over his beer.
I frown. “What do you mean Florian was here?”
“It was weird. At the Rose. With another man and the current owner. They were touring through. They were all deep in conversation, so I didn’t get a chance to talk to him. It was mostly Lenny talking, anyway. They were listening. I guess about the Rose being up for sale.”
My heart leaps out of my chest. Another man?
Like Billy? Fuck me. Good thing I left London.
My mind races in circles. How could he not have told me he was back with Billy?
Then again, how could he? He knows I’m jealous.
But maybe Billy was just biding his time to make his moves on Florian.
And why do I even care? Fuck, this is a disaster.
I make myself listen. Lenny’s alright, at least. He’s the owner of the Rose.
My frown deepens. “Florian found me in Glynde yesterday. I blocked him. He didn’t tell me he was in Brighton before coming to visit. ”
“Wait. You blocked him? What’s going on, Matty?
” He takes off his sunglasses to peer at me with even more concern than before, which is far more concern than I ever want someone to look at me with.
At best, trace amounts. He’s got the whole furrowed-brow thing going on like he’s attended Florian’s masterclass. “What’s he done?”
“Florian’s buying the Rose, Noah. That’s why he was there.
And turning it into flats. Which is why I ended things and blocked him.
It wasn’t real anyway.” I do my best to sound nonchalant, but Noah’s not buying it.
In fact, he’s staring at me as if I’ve gone mad.
Fair. I probably have. A Florian-induced madness.
When he picks his jaw up off the pavement, Noah clears his throat. “So… that escalated quickly.”
“I’ll say.”
“I mean, I suspected that’s why he was there with Lenny,” Noah says, frowning deeply. “Can’t say I like the purchasing part. Okay. Let’s back this whole thing up a minute. I’m still back at the wedding with you looking happy.”
“It’s an act, remember?”
Noah gives me a wry look. “Yeah, I get that part. But you did look happy. That part I remember from the wedding wasn’t fake.”
“Yeah, well. Florian told me he was going ahead with the sale, even knowing how I felt about it. Which is why our fake arrangement has ended.”
“But you said he came to see you yesterday?” Noah prompts. “Explain that.”
“I… can’t.” I clear my throat. I can still feel Florian’s hot kisses if I let myself think about yesterday. The way he looked at me in the studio. “He said he missed me.”
“Well, that’s something. You’re very missable, Matty.”
That makes me laugh, at least. “You’re biased because you’re my friend.”
“And your ex, don’t forget,” he says cheerfully. “Even if it was brief. I still count.”
“Of course you count,” I assure Noah, a hint of a smile playing on my lips. God knows where that came from. Just as quickly, it disappears, and the increasingly familiar weariness settles over me.
“Okay. Give me a minute to let all this…” He waves a hand in a circular motion. “Sink in.”
“Mm.” I take the opportunity to drink my lager.
“How about I go order our meals? Burgers and chips okay?” Noah says, waving off my protest. He gives me an irreverent grin. “You’ve been sacked, after all.”
“I’m getting the next round. And I’m not as broke as I was in London. And yes, a burger sounds great.”
“Excellent. Deal.”
When he returns, he looks seriously at me. “Matty, I think you’re depressed. A lot of this doesn’t sound like you.”
I blink at him. “But you heard me—”
“Yeah, about getting sacked and hiding your feelings like you don’t have them behind something fake when it clearly isn’t, and then feeling hurt when he goes to buy the Rose—”
“Wouldn’t you be upset if you were dating someone who wanted to level the Rose for flats?”
“I would never date a developer—”
I open my mouth to protest.
“—because I have Raheem, and he’s an artist too.”
“My point still stands,” I say quickly in my defense.
He shrugs and spreads his hands wide. “It’s complicated,” Noah admits.
“Exactly. And then he shows up looking for me yesterday after apparently he’s been shopping for redevelopments here in Brighton, and now, actually, I’m getting angry.”
“That’s the spirit,” Noah says cheerfully.
“And he does stupidly charming things, like he drew me a card after I gave him an art tutorial—”
“Oh my God, you gave him an art lesson—” Noah squeals in delight.
“—and he’s bought tickets to the opera—though he said I don’t have to take him—and I don’t even know what to think. Or feel. I’m very confused. It’s awful, actually. I wouldn’t wish feeling like this on my worst enemy.”
“You have to take him,” Noah says immediately. “How could you not? Aww, so sweet he drew you a card. He doesn’t seem the card-drawing type—”
“Also, he wanted to buy two of my paintings,” I blurt out, since everything’s coming out now.
“The nerve!” Noah laughs.
“Not funny,” I protest, flustered. “Remember the Brighton Pier ones?”
“Yes. Loved them—”
“Well, he wanted to buy them—at ￡2,000 each. The man’s clearly lost it.” I shake my head.
Noah’s eyes widen. “Holy fuck, Matty. That’s 4,000 quid—”
“I said no.” I sit up straight, holding my drink, giving Noah a stern look. “It’s not reasonable.”
Noah stares at me and clutches his head as though I’m causing him physical pain. “Never say no to a buyer. Especially when they are willing to put down bank. First rule of art club.”
“I have my principles, in my defense—”
“Fuck principles. Get paid.”
We stare at each other in a stalemate.
“Listen to me, Matty.” He holds up a hand.
“I’ve got things to say. First, go to the opera with him.
Second, let him buy the damn paintings. You’re broke, after all, and it shows demand for your work.
It’ll put your prices up. Also, get your arse painting again.
And third, go see your doctor because I still think you’re depressed.
Fourth, you’re not responsible for what happens with the Rose. ”
When I open my mouth, he shakes his head with authority.
“Not done yet. Also, you should know we are having a fundraiser to try to save the Rose. Ellie’s leading it.
Which may be a pipe dream, because the Rose is evidently worth a couple of million, but worst case, it’ll give us money towards a deposit to lease another building if we must. We want to show Brighton that the Rose means something to us.
And it should be saved. Or, hell, have a brilliant party on the way out. ”
I brighten, ignoring the way out part. “Seriously? There’s an actual fundraiser? I thought the deal was done.”
“Not yet. Not a hundred percent. Raheem caught Lenny later in the day and asked flat out because he has the balls to do that. And Lenny said the deal’s not sealed in blood. They’ll need to do surveys and whatnot. There’s a chance.”
“Right. Okay, tell me more about this fundraiser.”
“In September. We’re gonna hold it at a pub and invite everyone we know and strangers and have a band and auction and all sorts. You should come. Unless it’s triggering. In which case, don’t come, but sell art. Not the beach paintings, before you get any wise ideas.”
“I only have unwise ideas,” I assure him.
Our burgers arrive, and we dive in.
He gestures at me with a chip. “Tell me, though, before the Rose complicated things, how was Florian? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“No! He was great. He is great. He comes across as hyperfocused and serious at first, but he’s actually amazing?” I sigh. “Which is what makes this so awful.”
“Tell him how you really feel. Be honest with him. And yourself.”
I look at him unhappily.
“Tell him at the opera. Well, not during the opera. Wait for the interval, at least. Because you’ll get thrown out for talking otherwise,” he teases.
“But talk to him, Matty. And let him buy the paintings, for the love of God. From one artist to another. Work your charm just by being yourself and keep him from buying the Rose that way.”
“If only.” I feel sick at the thought that saving the Rose rests on me and apparently my wiles. We’re doomed.
His phone buzzes, and he checks the message. “Raheem’s on his way because he wants to see you too. And Paul and Caden are back from Scotland and would love to see you as well. So, you’re stuck with all of us today, I’m afraid.”
Despite my heavy heart, Noah succeeds in cheering me up. And with the group of us reunited, we end up having a great afternoon catching up in the Brighton sun. For a moment, my worries about Florian and my future in art are put beside me.
But later, in the flush of my lager-induced wisdom, after four pints and sitting on the train back to Glynde, I text Florian. Because of course I put his number back in my phone.