Worth the Risk_ A Contemporary - Megan Hart Page 0,111

not quite enough for me. I need someone a lot…prettier."

Lila had nearly choked on her dinner roll. William’s nightmarish words echoed in her head like discordant church bells. "We’ve been together nearly a year, William. You only decided this now?"

William had smiled, though the expression didn’t reach his brown eyes. "It was a kick at first, you know. To see what it would be like to be average. After a while, I just figured I was doing you a favor. I’m tired of doing you a favor."

Incredibly, he had wanted to finish the meal. He had not understood why Lila had left the table, or why she had refused to allow him to drive her home. "After all," he had told her, "it’s not like you ought to have believed me when I told you I loved you.

"That’s just what people say," he had said. "My God, Lila, don’t tell me you were foolish enough to think a man like me could ever love someone like you."

William had left her shivering in the winter wind outside that restaurant. He hadn’t even given her money for cab fare. Lila had walked home. She tossed her pretty shoes in the gutter when one heel broke, and shredded her stockings on the gravel. Her feet had healed, but her heart had not.

Lila sat on the bench for a long time and watched the ebb and flow of evening shoppers pass her by. She didn’t want to hurt this much over something as sad and simple as running into an old lover, yet she did. Finally, she forced herself off the bench and headed again toward the bookstore. Not even the heavy novel could lift her spirits.

Thoroughly depressed, she headed over to the new gallery, pausing to put a smile on her face before she went inside. She didn’t want to ruin her sister’s joy at the new project. The gallery looked gorgeous. Even missing the few final touches that would make it complete, Lila couldn’t help being impressed by the building’s exquisitely designed interior. Rivka’s influence, of course. It was visible in everything from the tiled entryway to the whimsical sunflower-shaped soap dispensers in the restroom.

"Wow," was all she could say when her sister had finished the brief tour. "It’s wonderful, Riv. I’m really impressed. It’ll be the nicest gallery you’ve ever shown in."

"I haven’t shown you the best part," Rivka said, drawing Lila out of the main space and into a smaller room. "I call this The Bold Room. It’s for you, Lila-love."

The rest of the gallery was still empty, waiting for the arrival of Rivka’s paintings, but The Bold Room had already been filled. Three walls of the room had been hung with Rivka’s canvasses, while the center of the room held only some comfortable chairs.

Paintings of Lila filled the room.

"Why, Rivka?" Lila managed to ask. At the sight of her sister’s generous gift, tears had welled in her eyes. She sank into one of the plush seats, unable to keep the grin from bursting through her tears.

"Because I’ve never devoted a whole show to my paintings of you before."

To Lila’s surprise, her normally cheerful sister was teary-eyed as well.

Rivka sat down beside Lila and took her hand. "You deserve this. Without you, I never would’ve been able to make myself such a success."

"Oh, Riv." Lila tried to wave away her sister’s praise, but Rivka refused to let her.

"It’s true!" Rivka gave her sister a fierce hug. "You’ve always been there for me. Whenever I thought about quitting, getting a real job, I could always count on you to talk me through. It was your job at the magazine that kept me in canvas and paints before my first sales. It was your couch I camped on, and Mick, too, when we couldn’t afford the rent on our apartment. You haven’t done anything but help us out, and I wanted everyone to know that. My sister, the bold."

The sisters shared a sentimental hug before being interrupted by a sound from the doorway. "And sure, if it isn’t a fine sight I’m seeing! The two of ya, blathering like a pair of ninnies!"

"Hi, Mick." Lila rose to greet her brother-in-law with a hug and kiss to the cheek. "Isn’t this great?"

"Ah, ’tis the best part of the whole damn gallery," Mick said sincerely, his faint Irish brogue thickening noticeably with emotion. "We couldn't've done it without you, lass."

"Don’t you start," Rivka admonished, shaking her head. She scrubbed her face free of tears.