Chapter 29 #3
Father ignores Louis, keeping his eyes on me.
“I know you only just met Lila, and when I make your granddad’s legal team aware of the situation, they will know you voided the terms of the will and the money you were counting on to buy the firehouse will go directly into your cousin's campaign. After that, the purchase and demolition of the firehouse will go ahead as planned.”
“Father,” Louis reprimands. “Stop.”
Lila, who’s been quiet and still through all of this, holds her hand up. “Actually, you’re wrong Mr. Fisher.”
My head whips in her direction. I’m not sure what she has up her sleeve…but whatever it is, surely it won’t work. It wouldn’t be difficult for my father to prove we just met.
“I very much doubt that, young lady.” My father leans back in his seat, his shoulder straight, his smile smug.
Instead of flinching away, she smiles back at him, killing him with kindness. “I’ve known your son since he moved to San Francisco. He’s purchased nearly half of my paintings.”
I try to keep my expression neutral as I study her. What is she talking about?
“Go on,” my father says, suspicion etched all over his features.
“Fisher has attended most of the gallery shows featuring my paintings, and he caught my attention.” She glances at me, looking up at me through her eyelashes with a bashful, if not apologetic, look.
“The paintings hanging in the loft?” Lila asks, turning back to my father.
“Those are my works. And as Fisher will be able to show you—if you care to see his invoices—he purchased the first one soon after he moved into the loft last summer.”
My eyes widen as I finally realize her angle. Santi is a female artist whose true identity isn’t publicly known, and Lila says she knows her—so convincing my family of this isn’t impossible.
It’s definitely better than anything I would’ve thought of. Lila’s a fast thinker.
“It’s true,” I announce, jumping in to play my part.
“I fell in love with the art first, then I fell in love with the artist. Look her up; she goes by Santi. I’m so proud of her.
” I sling my arm around the back of Lila’s chair to emphasize my point, and it's impossible to miss how her body tenses.
Then, she turns her head and peeks at me, and something in her expression has my stomach dropping.
“Wait…you’re Santi?” Louis asks her, his jaw hanging open.
“Yes, and I’m honored you’ve even heard of me,” Lila says with a smile.
I study her, my head spinning…a million thoughts coming at once.
Like how Lila’s been so evasive about her art.
How she stared at the Santi paintings on my wall like they’d blown her mind.
At the time, I thought she was appreciating the art, but what if she was simply shocked to find her work hanging on my wall…
“My wife is a big fan. She’s tried to purchase some of your paintings from Archibald, but he refuses to part with them.” He smiles. “And now I understand why.”
It takes all my self-control to school my expression into anything but shock.
Is Lila really Santi, or is she making this up?
And if she is Santi, why didn’t she tell me before now?
My mind is still reeling with the possibilities, but one possibility screams at me louder than all the rest: that she didn’t trust me before now with this information or think enough of me to share that part of herself.
That she didn’t want to be known by me the way I’ve felt known by her.
My father stares at her with his calculating gaze, his eyes moving back and forth between the two of us. It looks like he’s trying to figure out the answer to the same questions I’m asking myself.
Louis pulls his phone out and starts typing out a text message. “My wife is going to be so thrilled with this.” He laughs, adding to my confusion. He was in on Father’s ambush, but he’s still playing nice with Lila.
“Let her know I’m painting a series for a local gallery, maybe she can beat my husband to them this time.” Lila winks, and Louis chuckles.
My temples throb. I have no idea what to believe right now on any level.
My father tips his cocktail up and gulps it down. He looks frustrated, clearly upset he didn’t foresee this glitch in his plan. This revelation he couldn’t have predicted.
For once, my father and I have something in common, it seems.
Working on autopilot, my hand lifts a fork full of crispy potatoes to my mouth. I chew, but there’s no flavor. I might as well be eating Styrofoam.
I can feel Lila staring at the side of my face but can’t bring myself to look at her.
I’m strangely numb, unsure what to think or feel.
Lila’s the first person I’ve ever truly opened up to, who made me comfortable removing my veneer and sharing my deepest vulnerabilities.
She’s never made me feel like a disappointment, but has always accepted me for the person I am.
Lila makes me believe I could be something more than just a good time to a woman; that I could be part of a partnership with someone who sees the real me, and lets me see the real them.
I know our marriage is supposed to be fake, our relationship is meant to be trivial, but Lila feels like the most real thing that’s ever happened to me. But if she really is Santi, she clearly doesn’t feel the same way.
And what hurts the most is that for her…that facade was true.
But for me…it wasn’t.