walk over to the two canvases I’ve been pouring all my emotions into. Standing in my black boxer briefs, I pick up a clean brush and study the paintings.
Letting my love for Elle guide me, I add thin strokes where they’re needed and swirls of paint in others. I don’t over think what I’m doing, instead, I allow my paintbrush to go where the emotion takes it.
By the time I’m done, I’m dripping with sweat. Wiping my forehead on my forearm, I step back and do my best to peer at my finished works of art with a fresh set of eyes. I smile, proudly. I love what I’ve created.
Wiping my damp palms on the pants of my brand new black suit, I pace back and forth along the narrow hallway near the gallery front door. I don’t know which has me more keyed up - wondering if Elle will show or how my art will rank in the competition. I know which one is more important to me - Elle. Hands down. She’s all I think about. I’ve missed her more than she’d believe, but I was busy working and finalizing my painting for the competition. I also wanted to give her a chance to really miss me so she’ll never put us through this again.
Every time a new guest walks in the door, my heart leaps in my chest with the hope it will be Elle’s face I see. Each time I realize it’s not her, my stomach sinks to the floor. She has to come. I need her to be here with me and share in this moment.
Loosening the knot of my tie, I relieve the pressure on my neck. I dislike wearing ties of any kind. The last time I was this dressed up was at Janny and Kyle’s wedding. I sure made great use of my bowtie that night. I’d love to have the same outcome, with my gray and black patterned tie.
Now that the big day is here, I’m relieved it’s all going to be over one way or the other after tonight. I’m ready to know my fate where she’s concerned. Will we be together or not? Will she be back in my arms? Once she is, I’m never letting her go again.
Winning the competition would only be a bonus. If it goes my way, that’s great, if not then at least I could potentially gain new clients for Canvas and for my artwork. As much as I’d love the business, I can’t worry about that right now. All I can think about is Elle and if she’ll be brave enough to show up. Does she love me as much as I love her? Enough to take a chance on me? There’s nothing I won’t do to have her. If she doesn’t show up tonight, then I’m going to hunt her down and make her see reason.
“Josh.” My name is husky falling from her lips. Her voice sends chills down my spine and has my chest tightening in reaction. Turning around, I nervously pull the cuffs of my gray dress shirt down before meeting her eyes.
“Elle...I’m glad you came.” I mechanically get the words out.
“Congratulations. I wouldn’t miss it, Josh. I’m so proud of you.” She wrings her hands together like she doesn’t know what to do with them. She’s as anxious as I am. Seeing her anxiety is strangely comforting to me. It’s nice to know I’m not the only churned up inside about seeing each other.
We’re acting like acquaintances, not lovers and I don’t like it one bit. It’s awkward and frustrating. Gripping her hand in mine, I wordlessly tug her along with me as I make my way to the art exhibit. Her heels tap against the shiny hardwood floors pattering as we weave in and out through the crowd. She follows my lead closely and before we know it, we’re standing in front of my two paintings. She gasps when she first sees them. Watching her eyes trek over every inch of the canvases has my chest pounding. The first one I titled Despair. It’s a painting depicting the night I saved that girl from her abusive boyfriend my freshman year at Boston University. In the painting, her cheek is pressed against the brick building and her eyes are squeezed shut. A trickle of blood trails down the side of her face from her forehead to her cheek. Her expression is filled with fear and heartache.
The second painting is