Chapter 15 #3
Christian gave her a knowing smile. “Ah, I see. Well, I hope he’s a good friend to you then. He seems like he’s been very happy to have you around.”
Grace cleared her throat. “Well, yes. I’m sure it’s helpful to have someone who specializes in this particular period since you have such a large collection. I better get to work, actually. There’s still a lot I haven’t sorted.”
“Of course,” Christian said. “I do appreciate all of your help. I told Rafael we could handle it on our own, but I admit it’s been nice to have your input.” He offered her another grin and promised again to thoroughly consider her suggestions.
The rest of the day went smoothly, Grace and Rafael both too focused on the exhibit to talk about anything else.
Grace talked about the artists and different movements and time periods, and Raf took copious notes on everything she said.
Then they wandered back and forth through the cave taking measurements and imagining where each piece would fit.
Grace was exhausted by the time they got through the rest of them, and she slumped on the floor with her back against the cool cave wall as Rafael stuck post-its with their ideas on the walls.
Her mouth was dry from talking so much, but she couldn’t seem to stop.
Obviously, she was telling Rafael all about the paintings so he could try to piece together a museum, but she couldn’t help telling him stories, too.
She was full of fun facts and historical tidbits that were probably completely useless to him, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself from letting it spill out, offering the details of every piece of information that popped into her brain.
Perhaps, she was just trying to keep herself from mentioning the other things that kept surfacing in her mind, the things she shouldn’t be allowing herself to dwell on any longer.
“Did you know that Picasso was accused of stealing the Mona Lisa?” she asked from her position on the floor. She was trying to keep herself from reflecting on the feeling of his tongue on her earlobe.
“Really?!” He turned away from his notes, shocked.
She nodded. “It was 1911. Picasso had this friend, Guillarme Apollinaire, and Guillarme’s secretary had stolen Iberian sculptures from the Louvre a few years earlier. The guy had just put them under his coat and walked right out of the Louvre with them. Can you imagine?”
“Not remotely,” Rafael said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “That’s wild.”
“I know. So unbelievable.” Grace continued.
“Anyway, Picasso had bought these stolen sculptures from the secretary and had them in his studio. When he heard about the Mona Lisa disappearing, he panicked, afraid they would suspect he was connected to the crime since he had other stolen art from the Louvre. He even tried to get rid of the sculptures—he planned to toss them in the Seine, but he couldn’t do it.
Someone must have ratted him out, though, and the police picked him up. He was freaking out.”
“It’s hard to imagine such a legendary figure acting that way.” Raf said, leaning toward her with rapt attention. “Did he have anything to do with it?”
“No, the police figured out he was innocent, but they really spooked him.”
“And what happened to Mona Lisa? Clearly, they found her.”
“They did. A couple of years later they arrested a guy who’d been a carpenter and worked at the Louvre. He said he stole it so he could return it to Italy.”
“You’re just full of interesting information, aren’t you?” Raf asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“It’s interesting to me, at least.” Grace shrugged, the picture of nonchalance, even as she felt like she was blushing at his level of focus on her.
He picked up some of his notes again, putting pen to paper. “What else?” he asked.
Grace broke out into a wide smile then, trying to decide what to tell him next.
She had to admit she was filled with some sense of contentment while she watched him work, pacing back and forth and talking to himself, his investment and enthusiasm apparent the whole time.
He pushed his hands through his hair as he chewed the end of a pen, staring at a blank wall.
She wished she could get in his head and see what he was seeing.
She knew it had clicked for him at some point, and now he had some vision he was holding in his brain, something only he could see until he brought it to life.
He wrote another note in his book before turning to her, letting out a long breath. “Okay, I think I’m done for now. Should we go?”
Grace let her gaze drift back to the Francoise Gilot painting right in front of her on the specially built art table.
It had been a long day, but a day filled with things she loved.
She’d never had trouble staring at artwork for hours on end.
“I don’t mind staying a while. You look like you’re inspired. ”
Rafael nodded. “I was inspired, but I think I’ve figured it out, thanks to you.”
“I didn’t do anything but ramble at you for hours.”
Rafael’s lips quirked up. “It was just the rambling I needed.”
Christian asked for a word with Raf as they were heading out, and Grace waited in the car with her eyes closed.
She was exhausted, but in the best way, in the way that tells you it’s all been worth it, that you’ve put in the work and accomplished a goal.
She didn’t hear Rafael coming out until he opened the door and hopped into the seat beside her.
“What was that about?” she asked.
Raf gave her a teasing grin. “I bet you’d like to know.”
She sat up straighter. “What? Tell me.”
“I thought I was the one with the gift of persuasion, but apparently, you have it as well. Christian said he wants to let anyone from the local community come to the exhibition for free.”
Grace gasped.
“Hold on, let me tell you the stipulations. Just one or two days a month. Consistent days and limited hours. No ads, no website. All just word of mouth in the community, but if people come, he’ll let them in.”
“Well, that’s still something,” said Grace, delighted to have a small win for the people who lived in the area.
“Yes, he thinks if it’s limited and word-of-mouth, it will still be mysterious and special.”
Grace nodded, taking in the idea. “Sure, I can see that. I’ll take what I can get.”
Rafael leaned an elbow on the center console of the car. “Here’s the best part. He also wants to have a night to host a party. Just for you and your students.”
“For my students? Are you serious?” Grace sat up straighter in her seat, turning toward Raf and pressing a hand against his shoulder.
“Of course. This place wouldn’t exist without you.”
“That’s amazing! Oh, maybe Lucia can come, too. I hope everyone will be able to attend.” She paused, releasing his arm, her eyes narrowing. “How did he get that idea, Raf? He just randomly decided he wanted to have a party for my classes?”
Rafael grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “I might have mentioned it would be a nice way to work out any kinks before he starts hosting other events, and you deserve it after all your help. He loved the idea. He was very enthusiastic.” He paused. “What? Why are you staring at me like that?”
Grace almost couldn’t breathe. Rafael suggested a night just for her students.
She could bring them to the exhibition and show them what she’d been working on—this thing no one was supposed to know, and they would get to experience first-hand, to see all of these masterpieces. “I can’t believe you did that.”
Rafael frowned at her before he started the car’s engine and headed down the road. “I’m slightly offended you’re so surprised, Graciela.”
It had been days since he’d called her that, but now Grace could feel the word in her bones.
She shouldn’t be surprised. Rafael had given her a place to live.
He’d helped her move, he’d held her when she’d cried from a bad dream.
He was not the stern boy who’d been annoyed by her in Barcelona.
He was a kind, beautiful, man who’d found a sense of humor somewhere along the way, who’d stopped trying to please his father and started living his own life.
Shit. She was really in trouble if just because he’d done something nice for her and her students, she was dying to jump out of her seat and slip into his lap.
She wouldn’t do that, though, for safety reasons, but when they got home…
she wasn’t sure she could be responsible any longer.
She was sick of trying. In their three-year relationship, Derek had been perfectly nice.
He’d washed dishes and asked about her day and bought her presents on her birthday.
But never once had he done something so thoughtful, so tapped into exactly what would make her happy.
To share this amazing art with her students was a gift, and Rafael had not only recognized that, he’d gone out of his way to make it happen.
She wanted to show him what this meant to her.
She wanted to let herself feel all the things she’d been feeling and show him that too, the attraction and desire, all of it.
She clenched her hands into fists at her sides, willing herself not to touch him.
She kept them like that for the whole drive, the whole walk to the apartment from the car, the whole time he was unlocking the door.
She was tense and quiet, contemplating what she was about to do like she was analyzing a painting by Lee Krasner.
She couldn’t see any way around it. She couldn’t convince herself to walk away.
The moment they stepped inside, she unclenched her hands and reached for his shirt instead.
She made fists again, but this time they were full of soft cotton as she yanked him toward her.
“Grace?” He arched an eyebrow at her, dropping his bag on the floor.
“Yes,” she said, hoping she understood the question he’d asked with her name, because, if so, the answer was definitely yes.