The Masterpiece (Work of Art #3) (22 page)

He kicks a small rock and looks off into the distance before facing me again.

“Yes, it’s painful; I want that for us. I want what they have. I can’t help being jealous. It’s all come so easy for them.”

I can’t argue with that. They haven’t even had a major fight, just little arguments. It’s been smooth sailing for Riley and Dylan.

“Damn, they even met
after
we did,” Max curses.

“I know, Max, but it’s different. They’ve had an easy time of it, where we had some baggage to deal with.”

“Ha! S
ome
baggage?”

“Okay, yeah, a whole train full. Dylan and Riley are charmed. They didn’t have any of that.”

“I hate them for that,” he says with a growl.

“No, you don’t. You hate
our
drama. I wish things weren’t so challenging all the time. Do you ever think it’s not worth all the heartache?”

He makes a face and rolls his eyes. “Not worth all the heartache? After the intensity of our passion for each other, how can you imagine we aren’t worth the heartache? You must know you mean everything to me.”

I intertwine my fingers with his. “Oh, my love,” I whisper.

“Before all this happened, I was going to ask you to marry me. But then I couldn’t because it would have seemed like it was coming out of desperation.”

“Did Cara say that?”

“Actually no, I did…but she agreed. She wants us to be on strong footing before we take that step.”

“I’m sure she’s right, Max. You know I want to marry you, but we need to get through this challenge first. Then the engagement will be a celebration, not a fearful attempt to hold things together while I’m gone.”

He grumbles. “Logical, but completely unsatisfying. How many murky puddles are we going to have to jump over?”

I look down at our hands as we hold onto each other.

“Hey, I have an idea. You know how we’d both feel better if there’s a reminder to the world that we’re together?”

He looks at me, intrigued and hopeful.

“Why don’t we wear promise rings? I don’t know much about them, but I believe it shows intent—a symbol of the promise we’ve made to wait for each other. It could be something simple like a band, and your name could be engraved in mine and mine in yours. Then everyone would know we’re committed to each other.”

“You would wear that, do that for me?” He takes me in his arms, tightly holding me against his chest. I feel his heart thundering.

“Yes, Max, yes. I want everyone to know I’m yours.” I kiss him. It’s a joyful kiss, and he smiles broadly as our lips move together.

When we part, he grins. “I’ll call the jeweler in the morning!”

And with that, the cloud lifts, and we’re in the sun again.

The following week is crazy busy. Max takes me to two TV training sessions with Trent, which ends up being the best idea in the world. He thinks I’m far from hopeless and gives me lots of pointers and advice. My confidence grows with each take we do on camera.

Max and I spend Thursday evening at my place, figuring out our schedules and booking our trip to Paris. I probably have no business going away for a week right before the move to New York, but Max and I really need the time together.

Meanwhile, Riley has started bringing home boxes. Because of the engagement and my departure, she’s decided to move in with Dylan. We give our landlord notice. This surreal adventure becomes more real with each passing day.

So, when Saturday rolls around, I’ve almost forgotten that we have the book signing at The Grove. Luckily, Max is less distracted, and he remembers to bring nicer clothes to wear to the event. Since I live near The Grove, he spends the night, so we’re relaxed about getting there on time.

When he steps into the living room after his shower, my mouth drops open and I shake my head slowly. He has a jacket over his dark button-down shirt and tailored jeans.

“What?”

“You’re so damn handsome. Did you dress up for your fans?”

He gives me a crooked smile as he pulls his jacket sleeves down. “No, for you…it’s always for you.”

“Okay, well, you’ve just raised the bar. I’m going to change so we don’t look like the odd couple—gorgeous man with frumpy girl.”

“Oh, yeah, you make sweats look sexy, girlfriend. But, since you’re changing, may I suggest that short skirt you wore Saturday night? I’m in the mood for legs today.”

“You got it!”

When we walk into Barnes & Noble about forty minutes ahead of the announced event time, there’s already a line forming. The PR girl from Taylor and Tiden directs us upstairs to a private lounge area next to the manager’s office to meet up with the group that’s already there.

Dylan and Riley are talking to Jackson and a tall gorgeous African-American woman who we learn is Jackson’s girlfriend, Tasha.

After the introductions, Tasha turns to Max. “We saw your work at a gallery last time we were in New York. We almost bought a piece, but we couldn’t agree on which one.”

“Well, did you consider buying both, so you each get what you want?” Dylan suggests.

Jackson groans. “Thanks, Dylan. Today just got a lot more expensive.”

“Yes, thanks, Dylan.” Tasha smiles and kisses Jackson on the cheek. “Sweetheart, you talked about getting me a special gift for my promotion, so it’s a win-win.”

“She’s good.” Max grins, nodding to Jackson.

“You have no idea.” He laughs. “So, did you guys see the line outside? We like to see that,” Jackson says, his eyes bright.

“I read about the signing on a number of blogs last night. I think we’re going to have a great turnout,” Dylan says.

I look out the door, just as an employee pushes a handcart full of our books past, and it suddenly hits me anew.
I wrote a book about an amazing artist who’s now my boyfriend. And now I’m a published author about to do a book signing at one of the major bookstores in Los Angeles. Oh, my God!
This is huge. My face already hurts from grinning so hard.

“You’re excited.” Jackson observes my face. His girlfriend smiles warmly.

“I am,” I say softly, as Max pulls me closer.

Jackson folds his arms over his chest. “You should be. This is a big deal. And this is just the beginning, right, Max? You guys are quite the dynamic duo.”

“We sound like superheroes. Are you going to help me conquer the world, Ava?” Max teases.

I laugh. “Of course! Besides, I’d follow you anywhere just to see you in those tights.”

Sandy, the PR girl, comes to get us. We take our places at the table, as she sets out markers and bottles of water. My stomach flip-flops. Am I ever going to get used to this stuff?

Max squeezes my hand. “Ready, Angel?”

“As much as I’ll ever be. But it makes all the difference that I’m doing it with you.”

“For me too, Ava. That’s for sure.”

They lift the rope, and the first people step forward.

Everyone is friendly and polite as they hand us their books to sign. Some act too shy to ask anything; others want to tell us in detail about their struggle to be artists, or stories about other artists they have met. Sandy pushes those people along. The expected art groupies are sprinkled in the crowd.

One even gives Max her sexy head shot photo with her personal number written on the back. After she finally moves on, I hand it to Dylan, who makes a face, and deposits it in the trash in the back.

Jess and Laura show up about halfway through the event, as we have plans to have lunch at Marmalade when we’re done. They note the long line and watch us with pride. It warms my heart. We introduce them to Jackson and Tasha, who have to leave for another event.

The line keeps moving. The weirdest moment is when a middle-aged guy presents Max with a paint-by-number painting of a clown he’d done, hoping Max will incorporate it into one of his paintings. I’m a little worried how the gesture will be received, but Max manages to be polite and explain that his process doesn’t work that way. The guy leaves it as a gift anyway, and Max thanks him graciously.

In contrast, my sweetest moment comes when a bookish girl, who’s a senior in high school, lingers to tell me that I’ve inspired her to write about art. She shows me her journal, where she has posted pictures of paintings from newer artists she’s researched on the Internet. Next to the clipped and taped copies of the paintings, she’s written about the work.

I end up doing a special dedication in her book and giving her a big hug. Max and I even pose for a picture with her. She’s floating as she walks away, and it makes my day.

We’re about to wrap up when a beautiful blonde approaches the table. She’s holding
Unspoken Truths
tightly to her chest, and I reach for the book with one hand and the marker poised in the other.

“Who shall I dedicate this to?” I ask politely.

I don’t like the look in her eyes as she pulls back. “Oh, no, I only want
him
to sign my book.” She huffs and looks at Max with a gleam in her eyes, but he’s still talking with a young artist who bought two books to be dedicated.

When they finally finish, I lean over to Max with a smirk and quietly say, “This one only wants
you
to sign her book.”

He moves closer, faces me, and smiles with a roll of his eyes. He doesn’t even look at her when she slides the book to him. He just opens the book so he can sign it.

“Hello, Max,” she purrs, all silk and honey.

The sweetness of her tone leaves a bitter aftertaste in my mouth as I glance back at her. A fraction of a second later, I’m hit with a powerful feeling. I turn toward Max and my stomach falls.

The color drains from his face, and with wide haunted eyes, he stares at the beautiful blonde as if he’s seen a ghost. My heart races. I’ve never seen him look this way. I don’t even know how to gauge his reaction to her, it’s so overwhelming. All I can sense is that our lives are about to change, and I’m terrified. I try to keep my vision focused and my heart in my chest.

The room falls away, and it’s just Max, me, and the blonde angel of doom. One word falls from his lips in a gasp, and it’s the name I’d hoped to never hear again.

“Chloe.”

The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places.

~Ernest Hemingway

S
he smiles seductively. “Hi, Max. It’s so good to see you again.”

My gaze darts to Max, who’s still dumbstruck, and I immediately realize the command Chloe still has over him. Fear rises in me like a towering inferno. I want to be a superhero and surround him with an invisible, impenetrable shield. I want to go back in time and relive today, so she isn’t it in anymore.

But Chloe really is here. She owns this day now, and my superhero skills fail me.

As they watch each other, I realize she not only owns today, she owns a piece of him I will never, ever have. Behind her, the sun shining through the window backlights her blonde hair to create a glowing halo, and in my mind I prepare for battle.

The bitch has timing. What a dramatic entrance. She glides into town to descend on Max when he’s most vulnerable. How convenient—when one girlfriend’s leaving, another presents herself. Something tells me she’s done her research and has a plan. Does she think she’s going to take my place? I swallow back the bile and grip the edge of the table.

“What are you doing here?” Max says in a low unrecognizable voice. He’s still pale, and his hands are shaking.

“I really wanted to see you. I’ve moved to L.A., and you’re the first person I looked up.”

He slams his hands on the table and pushes his chair back, rising with such force that his chair tumbles over. The rest is a blur as he storms away with Dylan on his heels. As I jump up to follow, she addresses me.

“I’ve always had this effect on him. I love that he’s still so dramatic.”

Jess moves toward us, anger etched across her face.

I grit my teeth. “I hope you’re satisfied, Chloe. I’m his girlfriend, and if you remember anything about him, you know how messed up it is to surprise him like that.” I turn to find Max, and her next words echo in my ears.

“Oh, it’ll be a happy surprise. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

“Jess!” I call out, trying not to sound as unhinged as I feel.

“I’ve got this.” She nods with a steely look in her eyes as she approaches Chloe. She tilts her head in the direction Max went, and her face flashes from furious to friendly as she approaches Miss Happy Surprise
.

“Hey, girl, long time!” Jess exclaims. She’s smart and will get more information by taking this approach.

I rush to the back of the store.

Riley paces the hallway near the restroom and looks at me warily.

“Where is he?” I ask anxiously. Angry voices come from the men’s room, and I stop breathing.

“I waited ten fucking years for her with no calls, no letters, no emails—not a Goddamned thing—and she shows up now with a smile on her face like nothing happened!” Max roars.

Dylan’s reply is too quiet to make out over the thundering of my heart and the blood rushing through my head.

Riley’s eyes widen. “Is the blonde that girlfriend he had in college?”