Chapter 26
As she worked at the book barge the next day, this time with Cesca continuing on the upper deck, making a small stage and reshaping some of the Parisian-style cabinets so there was lots of room, a message popped up on Beth’s phone from Marco.
She read it with trembling fingers, hoping above all it was an apology.
It wasn’t and that made her both angry and sad.
Instead, Marco asked for her to meet him so he could introduce a new artist. At least he was still honouring their agreement, but nerves fluttered around her stomach at the prospect of seeing him again.
She’d have to control her treacherous feelings, both physical and emotional, and she absolutely wouldn’t think about that special, earth-moving kiss on the gondola, or that he’d said he was falling in love with her.
‘Are you all right?’ asked Cesca as Beth stacked shelves, unspeaking.
‘Marco wants me to meet him. A new artist.’
‘Will you go?’
‘I have to. I need to for my business.’ She checked her phone. ‘It’s pretty soon, so I better get going.’
‘Good luck,’ Cesca called. ‘I hope he apologises.’
I do too, she thought, ignoring the slight queasiness rising into her throat.
When she arrived at the location Marco had given, her she frowned.
It was an old, battered building, like a warehouse, and given the state of it, she couldn’t imagine what kind of artist worked here.
Marco stood stiffly, his hands in his pockets, his feet planted.
A smattering of stubble clung to his jaw and when his blue eyes spotted her, she was sure, just for a moment, that they softened.
He smiled nervously and scuffed his foot along the pavement.
Just seeing him made her feel whole, like a broken piece of her had been put back together.
She forced herself to smile through the pain and decided to remain professional, as she would have done at the gallery.
‘Hi. Thanks for setting up this meeting. Who are we seeing?’
‘I thought you might occasionally want something different from the traditional Venetian crafts, so I wanted to introduce you to a new modern artist.’
‘Oh. Right.’ She wasn’t a huge fan of modern art. Give her the classics anytime.
‘I know you like classical paintings but trust me.’ He smiled shyly again, and she hated that he knew her so well. ‘He makes canvases large and small using spray paints.’
‘Spray paints?’ she squeaked. ‘Like graffiti?’
Marco laughed at her look of disdain, and the glimpse of the man she’d been falling in love with appeared once more. ‘I wouldn’t pull that face when he shows you his work.’
Her hand went to her mouth. ‘Sorry. But I’m really not sure about this.’
‘I promise, if you don’t like it, you don’t have to stock it. I will come up with an excuse.’
‘All right then.’
He watched her for a second too long, but then tiny frown lines appeared on his forehead and he seemed to gather himself, the softness of moments before fading. He cleared his throat.
‘Shall we go in?’ she asked, keeping her tone neutral.
‘Yes, of course.’ He opened the door for her.
The smell of canned spray paint hit her like a fist in the face, and she coughed instantly.
A young man with low-hanging trousers and a thick, long beard, removed a mask from his face. ‘Mi scusi! I open windows.’
He ran to two small windows on the side wall and cast them as wide as they would go, which wasn’t actually that wide and did little to remove the dense, pungent smell. Marco went back to the door and wedged it open to allow some more air in, then made the introductions.
‘Riccardo, this is Beth.’
‘Pleased to meet you,’ he replied, wiping his hand down his side before holding it out for her to shake.
Beth took it, secretly charmed by his manners. He was younger than she’d expected, but then she hadn’t expected to meet a young man spray painting graffiti onto a canvas today. ‘What are you working on?’ she asked, eager to put him at his ease.
‘Let me show you.’ He took her to a large canvas almost the size of the book barge that was propped against the wall. ‘It’s called Fear the Pigs.’
‘Right.’
Marco coughed to hide his laugh.
‘But for the book barge, I was thinking you’d want something more mainstream? I have these—’ This time he moved to the other side of the room and much smaller canvases stacked against the wall. ‘They’re all dry.’ He motioned for her to look, so she did.
These were more like pieces by Cubist artists like Picasso and she could definitely see a place for these on the book barge.
‘I like these very much.’
Marco smiled, and as his eyes met hers, she had to look away. ‘Shall we talk business then?’ he said, and she could feel him pulling away from her once more.
After the discussion, Beth was pleased to escape into the cool afternoon air. She took deep breaths, clearing her lungs of the fumes. The fresh, salt smell from the nearby canal was far nicer mixed with seaweed and brine.
‘Right,’ Marco said, shuffling awkwardly. ‘I will email you a contract and the details, like I have for the others.’
So that was it, she thought as disappointment hit her. Back to business.
‘Sure. I’ll look out for it in my inbox.’
She felt stupid being so formal when it wasn’t long ago they’d kissed under the Lovers Bridge. Unable to bear this strained, difficult atmosphere, she turned to go.
‘Beth—’ Marco said, and she spun back to see as much turmoil in his eyes as she felt inside.
‘Yes?’ she asked quietly.
He studied her for a moment, then dropped his eyes.
She didn’t know where it came from, but Beth found the words tumbling out of her mouth in an attempt to clear the air. ‘Francesca told me about what happened with your business partner. How that betrayal hurt you.’
His face grew stony, his voice harsh. ‘She shouldn’t have said anything.’
‘She was just trying to explain—’
‘Explain what?’
‘Why you were so upset about her and Emilio keeping their relationship from you.’ His eyes met hers, but a shutter had come down over them.
She glanced around, wondering how to continue. The battered workshop, the paline mooring posts in the water, this was the city of love and yet, her heart was being ripped apart.
‘I just wanted to say,’ she continued, ‘I understand why it hurt you so much and – and I will always remain professional no matter what’s happened between us.’
‘Beth—’ His voice softened and shook. He swallowed.
Her heart beat faster as she waited for him to speak.
‘I will always be professional too—’
Her heart shattered all over again. So it was definitely over.
She turned away, tears in her eyes and her chin wobbling, anger mixing with the pain and grief.
This was it. Her last slot filled. With their professional relationship fulfilled there was no reason to see or speak to him again.
The pain stabbed even deeper, ripping through her lungs.
It took everything she had not to look back.