“We both know I’m not that.”
She didn’t answer him. Her opinion of him was changing daily. She’d gone from being in love with him to being angry after he’d kissed her before leaving town to pursue his dreams of working with the FBI.
She always assumed she’d done something wrong. Or maybe Grant had found out about them. To this day, she still wasn’t sure what had caused Ashton to cut ties and leave without taking her with him.
They stopped at one of her favorite takeout places, even against Ashton’s protest that she shouldn’t be frequenting her normal haunts.
He’d obliged. They’d gotten the burgers and fries to go before driving to the art gallery.
The high-end gallery was in the heart of downtown, where tourists and locals could browse the walls in search of something to fit their tastes. She unlocked the gallery door and walked through, locking it behind them.
“Wow,” he whispered. “Did you do these?”
“Only some of them. I also cater to other artists that I think have potential. That’s why my exhibit is so important. It’s not just my work that’s going to be seen,” she said, leading the way down the hallway.
“You’ve done well for yourself.”
“I can’t complain. I guess I’m starting to make a name for myself. For years, I barely made a living on my art, but about five months ago, things turned around for me when most of my paintings during the art exhibits started selling out. It’s kind of crazy.”
She walked into the back part of the building, where she felt most comfortable. Splattered paint and canvases covered every nook and cranny, inspiring the flow of her creative juices. She also used a portion of the room to hold a pro-bono art class for the local kids wanting to learn.
She put the bags of food down on the bar separating the painting area from the small kitchenette. She sat down on a stool and unpacked their food. The burgers and fries were the best in town. She hated to cook, especially if it was just for herself.
Ashton was looking at the partially painted canvases lined up in a row. A bowl of fruit sat on top of a stool, on display just beyond the partially finished paintings.
“You must enjoy painting fruit. You have four canvases that you’ve started and haven’t finished.”
She chuckled. “My kids did those.”
He raised a brow and walked to where the food was laid out. “You have kids?”
“Yeah, did my brother forget to mention that, too?”
Ashton’s mouth parted. It was cute.
“The kids in my class. I teach art to some aspiring artists. Most were in high school when we started, but now they’re all in college.”
“You’ve really made a life here,” Ashton said as if finally understanding why she couldn’t just pick up and run. People were counting on her.
“My art isn’t just a job, Ash. It’s ingrained in my soul. It’s part of who I am and who I aspire to be. I’ll always be an artist, even if I’m just doodling on a napkin.”
He picked up a fry and held it out to her.
She smiled as she took a bite.
“Most people go their entire lives without finding something they love.”
“And some people find it and still never act on it,” she quipped, taking a bite of her burger.
13
Stella
They needed to help Marcus. She slipped her phone out of her bag and dialed.
“Who are you calling?”
“Marcus. I need to make sure he’s okay. It’s going straight to voicemail.”
