Tracy shrugged. “All I know is that I saw him in here meeting with the manager with one of your paintings one day, and the next they were replacing all the old displays with yours.”
Chapter 16
Theo
Theo rubbed his eyes, weary from hours of exposure to lamplight and computer screens. The office had long closed up for the day, and yet he sat, logging in the numbers on the Excel sheet in the still room.
The Barter ticket sat on his desk, unused, while outside the street was lined with the parallel-parked cars of Barter visitors. It was opening night for King Lear, but tonight, like every night the past three weeks, he had work to do. Things to prepare.
Unbelievably, Ashleigh had returned to him that evening three weeks prior. Turned her headlights around. Listened and braved a conversation about mending fences. And for a millisecond, he had considered it. But as he did he realized he couldn’t maintain a conversation about building their relationship while keeping one eye on the door, with one part of his heart hoping to hear Skye’s knock. He couldn’t do that to Ashleigh, who deserved much, much more. And despite his mistakes, he couldn’t do that to himself. He couldn’t let Skye go. Not again.
So he resolved then and there to do something about it.
To take that risk Skye needed.
Theo sighed and leaned back in his chair, back aching from the day’s load of sitting through meals and meetings and reports. His legs ached with the desire to move, to pedal, to run. Perhaps he’d actually go on a run tonight before packing the last box. He glanced out the window to the dark street.
A light flashed into his eyes and he blinked.
He frowned, looked out the window again.
A light blinked again, this time covering the whole of his window with its light. A moment later it ceased, then flicked on again.
Was that . . . ?
Theo pushed back his chair. Stood.
The light continued blinking on and off as he moved to the foyer, then turned the knob on the front door. When he opened it, he was certain.
“Skye?”
Skye, standing on the brick sidewalk beneath the maple, clicked off the flashlight. Her hand fell to her side as he strode toward her.
She smiled slightly as he stepped onto the sidewalk.
He glanced down at the flashlight. “I hate to be cliché, but what are you doing here?”
“I, um . . .” Skye looked from his eyes to his jacket pocket and up again. “I wanted to apologize. I know everything about my dad and . . . I wanted to say I’m sorry. I thought you wouldn’t do anything like that and yet . . .” She shrugged. “I was wrong to think it. I was wrong about a few things. And for what it’s worth, I was wrong to expect you to take all the risks.” She took a step toward him. “And maybe you have a girlfriend now—”
“I don’t,” he interjected.
“And if you do,” she continued, though a smile was starting to rise, “I’m sure she’s lovely, but I didn’t want to let another day pass without taking a risk and telling you I know what I want.”
Theo’s eyes softened. The beating in his chest picked up its pace as he took another step forward. “And what is that?”
She blinked as he tentatively touched both of her elbows and took the final step. “Why, you. Of course.”
A moment passed in silence as he let her words wash over him. Words he’d craved to hear for years. Decades.
Skye blinked again. “Unless . . . ,” she began slowly, “you feel differently—”
But he was closing her lips with his, both hands on the tips of her elbows, gently pressing her to him. Time slowed as he slipped one hand to her shoulder, then cradled her neck as they stood there beneath the maple tree, the whispers of passing cars swirling around them.
He could live this moment forever.
As the world surrounding them came into focus again, Theo stepped back and gave his head a vehement shake. “Skye, you bested me again. I was going to woo you first.”
Skye laughed, cheeks flushed as she pulled a strand back behind her ear. “Calm down, Romeo. You win in the wooing. I saw my paintings up in the Martha this afternoon. What I don’t understand, though, is how you found them.”
He smiled and, keeping one hand on her elbow as though afraid to let go, turned them toward the office door. “They aren’t hard to find when they’ve been featured in your living room for a decade.”
Skye halted. Looked up to him as he locked the office door. “You’ve been hoarding my paintings here? In your house? You bought . . . that entire series?”
“No, I have the Spring of 2016 series in my house,” Theo said, smiling wistfully as he turned toward her. “What I had in the living room at the cabin, however, my new home, were those. Now, how do you feel about lifting a few of my moving boxes?”
Theo felt Skye stop. She turned to him. Her eyes were as large and round as he’d ever seen. Her voice was nearly a whisper. “Are you telling me you want to move to the cabin?”
His smile was his reply.
“But, but what about your work?”
“I’ll commute.” Theo shrugged. “An hour commute is hardly anything. Citizens of the cities are offended by people who drive under an hour and claim they commute.”
“And all the bugs? And snakes?”
“I plan on having to carry you out of a few shady situations, but I think you’ll be safe with me.”
“You’d do all that for me?” She glanced around. “You’d leave all this, for me?”
Theo’s eyes softened. “Skye, whether or not you showed up tonight, I was going to be your neighbor, rapping at your door with a morning cup of coffee, swinging by with the offer of soup every time I hear you’re sick, dropping off a card every Christmas, birthday, and holiday, until . . .”
“Until . . . ?” Skye said.
Theo smiled as he took her hand in his. “Why, of course, until you opened the door.”
Epilogue
One year later
“She’ll sell for ten thousand. Not a penny less!”
Skye picked up Luke’s booming voice over the hum of the crowd.
Swiftly she handed her mother the small flute of champagne. “Excuse me. I have to distract a man who keeps parading around as my agent before my agent actually gets here and kills him.”
Her mother and three of the visitors at Evergreen Gallery laughed lightly as they opened up the circle for her to depart into the crowd. As Skye slipped between the clusters of guests, her name popping up like iridescent bubbles by individuals merrily trying to get her attention, she couldn’t help smiling.
A packed room of family, friends, patrons, and curious visitors.
The crisp white walls were so freshly painted the smell of latex still hung in the air.
Floor-to-ceiling windows showed off the herringbone brick sidewalks of Abingdon and Evergreen Gallery in delicate green script on the outdoor signage.
Track lighting beamed neatly over each canvas, each one a new angle on the sparkling night sky.
Only one thing was missing. As she was just reaching Luke—who stood squarely in front of the largest canvas, a blue-eyed baby strapped to his broad chest as he haggled with an elderly woman dripping in pearls—she saw it.