over me. “This takes me back.”
“Exactly,” St. Clair says. He points to the students, who don’t pay any attention to us. In the zone. “You know how much this will mean to those students, and you have no ulterior motives or political agenda, so you are the perfect person to choose the winners.”
“But who’s to say what the best really is?” I ask, nervous.
He raises an eyebrow. “Well, you, for one, being my art consultant. That’s part of your job.”
I frown. “You know what I mean, right? Art is so subjective—why should my opinion matter more than someone else’s?”
“Because it does.” St. Clair looks at me. “You have a gift at seeing the deeper emotion of a piece. It’s why I hired you. Your opinion matters more than anyone’s.”
I have to look away.
I watch the students working, their faces concentrated, their brushes dipping and lifting from canvas to palette. I think about what possibilities may have been out there for me if I’d been able to finish my scholarship at the prestigious east coast college where I met Paige. What an award like this would have meant for me.
“Someone’s life is going to change dramatically after this,” I tell him. Not unlike mine did recently. The universe is funny like that, giving us the thing we want only after we’ve given up hope. Maybe because it’s then that we are finally willing to take a risk.
“Just follow your instincts,” he reassures me.
We walk back to the main entrance, but fatigue hits me like a bullet train and I’m suddenly too tired to stand. I wobble a little and St. Clair steadies me. “You okay?”
“I think I may need to lie down.”
He chuckles softly. “I told you, jet-lag is no joke.” He slips an arm around me. “Now, the TSA, that’s a joke.”
“Haha,” I say, but I’m practically letting him carry me as we begin walking back to the front of the building. “Sorry to be such a pain.”
“Not at all,” he says, always a gentleman. “Let’s get you back to the apartment so you can sleep. We have plenty of time for this, so take tomorrow to rest and settle in.”
“Thanks,” I murmur. A whole day to explore! My tired brain is already racing with the possibilities, so I know I’d better take advantage of this opportunity to rest while I can.
CHAPTER 6
I sleep like the dead for fifteen hours straight. St. Clair was right about jet-lag being no joke, but I wake feeling refreshed and rejuvenated, and ready to take on the world. How could I not be? I’m in London: international center of art and culture— and sexy accents. Though St. Clair’s is still my favorite.
I text Paige. I’m here, lover! Want to have lunch today?
I make a pot of tea and sip as I watch the light play off the orange and pink houses on this block, the white trim like reflectors in the morning sun. Paige writes back, OMG, yes!! Meet me at the Covent Garden market. 2 hours?
I write, Tips for getting there?
Tube it up! She replies. There’s a Covent Garden stop. Excited to see you!
My chest constricts. It’s been so long. ME TOO.
I shower and slip into a casual dress—London is generally dressier than San Francisco, but it’s still a weekday afternoon—and head out into the street feeling like I always imagined it would feel to live abroad: glamorous, thrilling, a little bit scary. Things are new, but that makes them exciting, and I feel like a whole new version of myself, too.
I head down the steps to the Tube station under the big red and white circle icon, figure out how to buy a subway pass, and step through the turnstile. I take a picture of the Mind the Gap sign, for Fred back home, who wants that painted on his kitchen wall someday. The London Underground train seems much cleaner than BART, and it moves fast, though there’s not much to see since it is, after all, underground.
I exit at Covent Garden and find myself in a narrow maze of old cobbled streets. Here, the stores are crammed in older buildings, and there are a ton of tourists watching street performers by the side of the road. I get my bearings, and head down the hill to where a covered market is filled with food and craft stalls, vendors and shoppers milling about like a school of fish. I see Paige sitting at a café right on the edge of the crowd.