“Okay.” I look up at the inconspicuous storefront situated between two large sliding garage doors on the first floor of a four-story red-brick building.
“Lucy,” Sebastian says impatiently. He grabs my hand and pulls me across the sidewalk, but there’s a line of people waiting to get in.
“Bas, let’s just get in line.”
He gives me an impossible look.
“It’s fine,” I say, noticing the glances we’re getting. “We can wait like everyone else.”
He gives me an exasperated look and says, “Absolutely not.”
“Sebastian”—Paul gives him a stern look—“you are crazy if you think we’re cutting in front of that line. Lucy’s right.”
Bas presses his lips together and pivots on the heel of his shiny black shoe. “Fine,” he says under his breath.
We get in line and Sebastian crosses his arms over his chest. But after a few minutes, he looks at me and says, “No. It’s too hot, you’re pregnant, and you’re a featured artist in the show.” He pulls out his phone and makes a call. “Hi, this is Sebastian Ford.” He turns around and speaks quietly into the phone. “Yes…Mm-hmm…Okay, great. Thank you.” He hangs up and steps out of the line. “Are you guys coming or what?”
“Sebastian.”
He leads us up the sidewalk to the door, where we’re promptly greeted by a suited man with a clipboard. “Sebastian Ford?”
“Yes, and this is Lucy Bennett. An artist in tonight’s show,” he says loud enough for others to hear, and I close my eyes.
“Well, welcome. It’s wonderful to have you. If you’ll step right this way”—he gestures us inside the air-conditioned studio—“Aurelia will be out to meet you in a moment. In the meantime, feel free to look around.”
“Thank you,” I say, following Sebastian inside.
“Oh, my God, look at this place,” he whispers.
The two-story room is surrounded by white walls that are adorned with colorful paintings and a floating staircase that stretches across the space, twisting as it curves up to the second floor. There are paintings beneath it that follow its curve, some you have to look up to see.
“Wow,” I say, staring up at it. I look at the paintings, letting each one pull me in a little further.
“Lucy!” someone calls, and I turn around. A thin woman with short black hair and straight-cut bangs smiles at me. Her lips are painted red, contrasting with her fair skin, and she’s wearing matching red suspender pants over a sheer black button-down shirt.
“Aurelia,” I say, smiling at her.
She opens her arms and puts her hands on my shoulders, bringing me in to kiss my cheek. “It’s so wonderful to finally meet you. Such a talent.”
“The pleasure’s all mine. It’s honestly a dream to meet you. Your gallery is incredible,” I say.
“Thank you. It didn’t happen overnight, that’s for sure. But I’m quite proud of it.” She looks at Paul and raises her eyebrows. “You must be Sebastian.”
“Oh, no, actually, I’m his husband, Paul.” He glances at Sebastian, who’s waiting patiently to say hello.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Bas says, reaching for her small hand.
She gives it to him and smiles. “Nice to finally meet you, Sebastian.”
“I am so impressed by everything you’ve done. You truly are an inspiration.”
“Thank you. I aspire to be.” She smiles at me and says, “We’re going to open the doors in just a few minutes. I want everyone to have some time to look around, get a drink, relax, and then I was hoping to have you and the other artists take a few minutes to talk about your work. Okay? It really helps people connect to the painting when they understand the meaning behind it and what the artist was going through when they painted it.”
“Oh, um—” My skin suddenly feels clammy.
“Of course that would be okay,” Sebastian says for me.
I smile over the unexpected wave of anxiety I’m now riding. “Yeah. Sure.”
“Great. I’ll come find you when it’s your turn.” She winks at me and spins around. “No, no, Michael, that doesn’t go there.”
“Sebastian,” I say through my teeth. “I can’t give a speech. I don’t have anything prepared.”
“It’s not a speech. It’s just talking about your painting. You do it with me all the time.”
“That’s different. Talking about my private feelings with you isn’t quite the same as discussing them with a room full of strangers.” I glance at Paul, whose worried look is plastered onto his face. “You might as well ask me to take my clothes off in front of them. As a matter of fact, that would probably be easier.”
Sebastian takes my hand and holds it between his. “Lucy, just breathe. Just take a deep breath.”
I squint over the contraction that’s taken over my abdomen and inhale a slow, deep breath.
“Just relax.”
I exhale as the contraction passes and look up at him. “What am I supposed to say?”
“Don’t worry about that. When it’s your turn to speak, you’re going to look at me and tell me about the painting. Like you’ve done a hundred times before. Can you do that?”
I nod reluctantly. “Yes.”
“Okay.” He smiles at me, but it does little to ease my nerves. “You’ve got this.”
I close my eyes and think of Sam. I need you.
As the next hour passes, Paul and I follow Sebastian around the gallery, watching him schmooze his way through the crowd, eliciting smiles and laughter wherever he goes. I lean in to Paul and say quietly, “He has his own gravity.”
Paul smiles. “Don’t I know.”
“Lucy…Lucy,” Aurelia calls my name, waving me over to the staircase.
Sebastian turns to me and gives me a gentle push. “Go, go.”
We follow Aurelia up the stairs to the second floor, which we haven’t explored yet. When I reach the top, I pause and gasp. My painting is floating in the middle of the dimly lit room, suspended from the ceiling by nearly invisible wire, lit by several small spotlights. But it’s not the painting of Sam I was expecting. It’s the painting of me. I look at Sebastian, who pulls his mouth to the side and shrugs. “I thought it was your turn to be in the spotlight.”
“Sebastian.” I shake my head and begin to say that he shouldn’t have offered up my painting without asking me, but as I look at it and think of everything I’ve been through to get to this moment—the struggles and the successes—I realize it’s the perfect painting to commemorate this milestone in my career.
Paul walks toward it, stepping in front of the people standing around it. “Sorry, excuse me.” He stares at it for several seconds, then he looks over his shoulder at me with watery eyes. “It’s beautiful.”
Sebastian looks down at me with a small, apologetic smile.
“Lucy, come on,” Aurelia says, waving me over. She stands next to the painting, while everyone gathers around her.
“Knock ’em dead,” Sebastian whispers.