50. Jaxon
JAXON
It was easy to come up with the gifts. I’d run out of paint colors before I ran out of memories to match them to. I loved doing it, but it made me miss her even more.
The plan was to give her space this week so she could focus on the exhibit. Hazel and Molly told me that she was deep into working, so I didn’t want to interrupt that with discussions about us
I put so much thought into how I wanted this to go, but on Friday, when she calls me several times, I feel like I played my cards wrong.
Seeing her for the first time at the art show is probably not the best idea, but it’s too late in the game to change that.
I don’t want to throw her off, and what I have in store is bigger than a phone conversation.
The show starts at six, so I make a loose plan with my family to meet me at 6:15 p.m. I’m not sure what I’m expecting, but it isn’t for the place to be hopping fifteen minutes in. How wonderfully incorrect I am, because The Painted Heart is already packed.
When I make my way up the stairs, she stands out among the crowd and steals my breath.
Wearing a blue dress that looks like it’s been painted with blue brushstrokes, it fits her like a glove and makes her look every bit the artist she is.
But my favorite part of all is her hair.
I assumed it’d be in the same kind of fancy style she had it in when I met her, but no; it’s down and cascading across her shoulders, and I can’t help but think that’s symbolic too.
She’s finally able to let her hair down.
Looking around, there is a mix of people: lots of our ranch family, but many others I don’t know, which is impressive. Rose did a great job promoting on short notice, but once again, Lanie Locklin for the win. She was all over this.
My heart is bursting for the woman of the hour, and I watch her as she’s holding her champagne glass, laughing with a group of people, gesturing to the painting in front of them.
Her face lights up as she talks about her work, and I don’t have to hear her words to feel her joy.
She flits from person to person and group to group, and when she looks around, I hope that maybe she’s looking for me.
About forty minutes in, I have an opportunity because she’s standing in front of Love’s First Light studying it, so I approach her from behind and talk into her ear.
“Ah, yes, this painting does a phenomenal job of capturing the alpenglow, would you not agree? And the edge work around the blending is superb, as is the color harmony of the piece. Also, underpainting, balance, and atmospheric depth.” I just start throwing art vocabulary out as a joke.
She turns with a soft laugh, and her eyes sparkle at me. God, I miss that sparkle.
“Jaxon.” Her dimple pops out as she says my name. “Thank you for the paints this week. I tried calling…”
Glossing over her thanks, I bring her attention to the room around her.
“This is amazing, Della,” I say, not taking my eyes off her.
“It’s remarkable,” she replies, scanning. “This is something I never thought I’d do in a million years.”
“Now look at you. Famous Amberheart artist.”
“Part of this is you, Jaxon,” she says.
Shaking my head, I refuse the accolade. “No, Della Tatroe from Chicago, you made this happen. And I am so damn proud.” Her gaze clings to mine while my eyes bounce between hers.
We’re locked in a heavy moment that feels like everything depends on what’s said next. A month ago, I would have kissed her.
She inhales as if she’s going to say something, but someone comes up to her and starts talking, asking about a painting. Smiling, she goes with the patron and squeezes my arm as she walks away.
I’m disappointed our time was cut short, but I obviously get it. Watching her stand in front of another painting talking about it, I retreat to the corner where my family has gathered and talk to Hazel.
“How do you think the last week has gone?” she asks. “Think we achieved our goal?”
“She’s reached out to thank me and not to tell me to stop dropping off gifts and creeping around Millstone, so that’s good,” I laugh.
“Jax, I didn’t know you were such a romantic, but what you’re doing is really sweet. A gesture like that would even work on me. I might even apologize for hypothetically putting sugar in the gas tank…”
“Did you and Molly seriously do that? To who? You know that can seriously screw up a fuel injection…”
“This is pretty crazy stuff here, though?” She cuts me off before I can spiral about automotives.
“It truly is. I’ve seen the paintings, well, some of them, as she’s gone along, but to see them all together in one space like this is…
it’s extraordinary. She’s extraordinary,” I say.
Glancing around, I take in the ones I had the privilege of seeing early and all the ones that I’ve seen for the first time tonight.
“She did this in such a short time, too. God, I hope she signs on to do the live painting. It would be so good for business,” Hazel says.
“I hope she signs on so she can stay,” I reply.
My sister gives me a knowing look. “That, too.”
I do some more laps, talk up the paintings to people.
and keep tabs on everywhere she goes. As we’re nearing the end, I check my watch with thirty minutes left.
I want to leave a little early because when she says goodbye to the last person, she needs to take the moment to celebrate herself.
There’s a lot for her and me to discuss, but for the same reason I wanted to keep space this past week, I want her to love tonight as her achievement, not be wondering how she should talk to me.
Playing my cards right, next time she’s in the middle of a group, I touch her back and bring my lips to the shell of her ear.
“I’m going to take off, but I hope you are as proud of yourself as I am. This is incredible, and I’m so glad I got to be in your orbit for it. You are amazing, Del.”
She pulls back and opens her mouth to speak, but her attention is taken again when someone in the group asks her a question. Looking back at me, I wink at her, then back away, knowing she’ll be at my house within the hour anyway.