by Lara Swann
“Probably a good idea.” He offers me a weak smile, then shrugs. “The guys won’t bother you anymore, either. I—well, I made that clear to Jared - part of the deal for me taking the hit for everyone else - they’re not going to drag you into anything else, not ever again. You’re home clear, bro. Just like you always wanted.”
I look up in surprise, partly that he did that, and partly the warmth that flows through me as I hear it. I’m suddenly glad I just forgave him. It was the right choice. He is the guy I thought he was.
“Thanks.” I say, really meaning it. “That’s…thanks, man.”
“That’s okay.” He shrugs, then grins. “So did you go sort things out with your girl?”
“Ugh.” I grimace. “Not yet—I couldn’t find her—but I know where she’ll be on Saturday, so that’s the day. I’m gonna get her back. Her and my baby.”
His grin widens. “Yeah, you do that, bro—settle down, raise a family, be that kind of guy for a while.”
“For good.” I correct.
“Yeah? Well, if that’s what you want. Think I might get bored if I tried it.”
“Bro, I’ve had more than enough excitement for the rest of my life. I’ll get my adrenaline kicks from when my kids cross the road without looks, ‘kay? And maybe a bike ride or two thrown in there.”
He laughs, and it’s deep and genuine enough to make me feel like we really are clearing the air.
“Yeah, not my scene. So whatcha gonna say to your girl on Saturday?”
My mouth twists again and I grunt. “Not a clue.”
He laughs again, and I’m a whole lot less appreciative of that one. “Well, I’m sure you’ll think of something, you always did have the kind of charm that works with girls.”
I grunt again, but he’s already moved on. “Hey, though! Did I tell you—Jessie came right up to me just before I went to hand myself in. Gave me a kiss and everything, said I was doing a good thing for the club.”
“Oh really?” I raise an eyebrow, suddenly wondering whether that might be part of the reason he’s so pleased about all this.
“Yeah.” He grins. “Think she’ll wait for me - ‘til I get out of here?”
I stare at him, and it takes a lot of effort not to burst out laughing.
“Er, yeah, bro. I’m sure she will.”
His grin gets even wider, and then I do laugh, our conversation devolving into the usual banter until the visiting hours are up. By the time I leave, I don’t feel uncomfortable and guilty about what he’s doing for me anymore - or angry and betrayed about what he did do. It’s the best thing I could have asked for, and I’m surprised at the weight that disappears now that I’ve finally sorted this.
Now there’s only one more thing to fix.
It just happens to be the most fucking important one.
* * *
I get to the exhibition as late as I can possibly make myself wait.
This is Chloe’s moment - her big event - and as desperate as I am to see her, I want her to have the time to enjoy it properly. She’s worked so hard and she deserves to be there in the moment, without having to deal with my sudden appearance.
I can’t afford to miss this chance to see her, but I don’t want to ruin it for her, either.
Which means that when I get to the gallery, I don’t go straight in, either. Instead, I walk up and down the street, taking glances as I go past and trying to work out what’s going on without anyone noticing me - hoping for a glimpse of Chloe the whole time. Until I see her, I won’t actually know that she’s definitely there. I couldn’t imagine her not being, but…I don’t know what’s happening in the last couple of weeks. A lot has changed - and if she isn’t, I don’t know what I’ll do.
My hand plays with the box in my pocket as I walk and look out for her, turning it over and over in my hand, my stomach churning with more nerves than I felt when the police stormed my shop.
The last couple of days have given me enough time to come up with a plan. The only problem is, I don’t know whether it’s even more crazy than just walking up and talking to her. There’s a good chance she’ll run a mile, but I try not to think about that. I’ve settled on it now - I’m doing this.
Eventually. When it feels like the exhibition is starting to wind down.
After a few strolls up and down the street, I start getting frustrated that I can’t make out anything and stop to actually look in the window of the gallery.
There are paintings in sets of three displayed throughout it, some of them bunched up together and others in their own section, and I can’t help wondering which ones are Chloe’s. I never did see her final concept. There’s a good crowd around one section, but they’re blocking me from seeing what they’re looking at. I secretly hope it’s Chloe’s work. She deserves it. I’ve seen what she can do - and what she puts into it.
Despite my firm intention not to be noticed, I find myself stepping closer to the window anyway, drawn in by the energy in the room and in particular with that group—I want to know what’s going on, but I don’t want to go in, not just yet—
And then I see Chloe and everything within me shifts, like the sun has suddenly come out from behind the clouds and my body has been starved of it for so long.
She looks…amazing.
I don’t know whether it’s just that I haven’t seen her in a couple of weeks, but her belly looks so much bigger - and she’s glowing so much. Standing there, grinning and chatting enthusiastically with all the people around her. It has to be her display - it has to - she’s pretty much the center of attention. I get a huge thrill sweep through me as I think it.
Yes. You go, girl. That’s it!
I wish I could rush to her and scoop her up into my arms to congratulate her - I wish that we were on good enough terms right now to do that - but I promise myself I will later. I’ll fix this and then we’ll spend the whole evening celebrating everything - because right now, there’s so much to celebrate…
So long as this gets fixed.
That thrill is followed almost as quickly by a strange hesitation. She looks so…happy. She’s clearly in her element, having a great time, talking about the paintings she loves - the ones she made this time, as well - and…well…I can’t help wondering whether she is happy, like this. Happier. Without me.
The thought cuts at me, but I refuse to let it sink in deep. She’s the woman I love more than life itself and however happy she is right now, I’m just going to add to it. I’ll give her more than she can possibly imagine. No more distance, no more stupid issues with the fucking club - nothing.
Just me, her and the baby.
And her artwork too, if the look of this is anything to go by.
I’m more curious than ever to see what she’s painted - but I force myself to stand outside and watch, instead. I don’t want to interrupt, not when she’s having so many lively conversations.
One of those conversations could be the key. It could be the one.
I can’t bring myself to move away, though, or continue walking up and down the street - now that I’ve seen her, I can’t tear my eyes away. So I stay there, and I have no idea how long it is before the people inside slowly disperse, the evening turning toward twilight now and the gallery obviously shifting towards the quieter, closing-up stage.
That’s when I finally do slip inside. There are still people around - Chloe walked off with a couple of them to another part of the room - but I can’t leave it any longer or they might not let me in.
“Sir.” A woman tries to stop me anyway. “We’re closing in fifteen minutes.”
“Right.” I say, nodding. “I know - I’m just—looking for someone. I came to help her pack away.”
The woman nods back at me. “Okay then, but if it’s an artist you’re looking for, some of them have already left. If you don’t find her within that time, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave.”
“No problem.” I give her my most charming smile. “I think she’s still here.”<
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The woman nods again and I step past her, heading straight for the area I saw everyone gathered around before. It’s got to be Chloe’s, it has to. There’s still someone stood there looking at the display, but I know it’s not Chloe - and I’m secretly a little bit glad. I want to see her and talk to her, but I’d rather do that in private - and I don’t want to miss the chance to see these paintings displayed here either.
This is her moment.
I walk up to them with interest - and it’s not until they come into view that I stop, totally stock-still.
Stunned and disbelieving at what’s looking back at me.
It’s…me.
I’m somewhere between astonished, embarrassed and awe-struck. I even feel heat creeping up my neck - me, who never flushes at all - and there’s a part of me that wants to squirm, just a little.
At the paintings - but also what’s depicted in them. It goes right through me, reaches inside and feels like it’s ripping out my guts.
In the first, I’m holding a kid up high in the air - we’re grinning at each other, the kid squealing with laughter so vivid I can almost hear it now. It’s bright, the colors brilliant and almost shining with life and warmth and love. It fills my heart with pride and joy and so much hope for what we’re going to have together - which would all be perfect…if not for the other two images.
The third, to the right of the central piece, shows something that couldn’t be more opposed: the same man - me, though I don’t want to think of him that way - crouched in an alleyway, a gun in hand and a deadly blankness in his expression. There’s a grim twist to his mouth and the hint of sweat on his brow. It’s dark and moody, threatening in a way that sends a shiver down my spine - especially because it hits all too close to home.
But it’s the second that bowls me over. That’s the one my eyes come back to, even while I’m trying to absorb the other two, unable to look away from the terrible, painful conflict in that expression.
It’s a bigger picture - and it’s a close up, too - just my face.
My face, with every struggle and difficulty I think I’ve ever gone through, magnified a hundred times. Every line emphasized to bring out that inner tension. It’s easy to see hints of both side pictures in that face - the possibility for the best of human nature…and the worst. I get a little dizzy trying to work out whether it’s really meant to be me or some metaphor for all of humankind and those choices we face every day - because I see everything in there. Every emotion, every raw, painful feeling I’ve ever had.
It’s almost too hard to look at - to face myself in such a stark, open display. It wouldn’t be hard to feel almost…violated…by these paintings. By what she’s created from me.
But as hard as it is, I can’t look away either. I was just going to have a quick look and then I was going to find Chloe - congratulate her on her obvious success - but now…I can’t even move. I don’t know what I’m thinking or feeling, but it’s all boiling up inside me, threatening to spill out. I know now why people were staring at this for so long. It’s impossible not to.
It’s not until I hear her voice right in front of me that I realize I really did screw this up.
“Ash?” It’s a whisper, a disbelieving word that has too much in it for me to unpack right now. And I still can’t tear my gaze from the damned paintings.
Shit. This wasn’t how this was meant to happen. I was meant to find her. Prepared and ready and—
“Oh my god.” She gasps as she really recognizes me, her hand rising to her mouth, and I finally do force myself to look at her.
For a long moment, I can’t say anything. I’m too overcome by the paintings, by how beautiful and perfect she looks and how much I want her right now, by the depth of emotion sweeping through me.
And when I can finally put words together, it’s nothing I’d planned to say. It’s not an explanation or appeal or…anything. It’s just the only thing I can think.
“Is that…really…how you see me?” I ask, my voice hoarse as my gaze flicks to the paintings again, in case she could possibly mistake what I mean.
She flushes, the redness rising up her neck in the adorable way it always does - but this time, she doesn’t let the embarrassment affect her, instead becoming almost fierce as she looks me straight in the eye.
“Yes.” She says, glaring at me for a moment…then the gaze falters and something else passes over her expression. Her gaze flicks back to the paintings briefly too. “Maybe. I…I don’t know.”
The last is said almost with a sigh and I can hear the confusion there in her voice, seeing her body soften up slightly.
That’s as much of an opening as I’m ever going to get - that hesitation - and I’m not going to pass it up. I take a step closer, not enough that it could be a form of pressure, but I can’t make myself stay away completely. Not now, when all I want is to take her in my arms and make her mine in every way. In the way we should be.
She’s not running from you - not forcing you away or totally dismissing you. It’s not much, but it’s a step in the right direction. A small hope.
I force my attention completely away from the paintings - I can analyze them later and considering the way we parted…I can’t exactly say anything in them is unfair. Right now, the woman who made them - the amazing, breathtaking woman in front of me - is more important.
“Chloe…” I say, my voice soft as all the appeal I have comes into it.
She shakes her head, taking a step back before I even have a chance to start. “Don’t, Ash. I can’t—”
“I’m sorry.” I say, even though she’s asked me not to. She can’t not know this. I didn’t mean to do it in semi-public like this, but our voices are low at least - and if I have to say it in front of the whole world, I will. “I’m sorry about everything that happened - and everything I did. It was fucked up of me - you’re right, I should have told you what was going on the moment I knew something was happening—”
“Ash…” She tries to stop me again, but it’s more of a murmur this time and I can see the conflict in her expression - almost a mirror for the one in the painting of the man on the wall. I seize on that uncertainty, walking up to her and taking her hands in mine. I squeeze them as her eyes come up to look at me, her head still shaking in denial. I want to touch her at least, to feel that small connection as I tell her this.
“I just…I was scared of losing you, Chloe. So fucking scared.” I say, our eyes locked together as I speak, and I’m just relieved she’s listening. I didn’t know if she would. “I should have told you what was in my past - what I’ve done and what I was involved with - but…I thought you’d go running. You’re the sweetest, most pure girl I’ve ever known and I didn’t want to corrupt you - I didn’t want to change that. You shouldn’t have to know about that world - it’s not the one I ever want you to live in.”
I take a deep, harrowing breath, but I know I have to tell her the truth. The reason I couldn’t face admitting to any of that.
“Chloe…it was already hard to believe you’d ever be the kind of girl to settle down with someone like me - with an outspoken, bad boy biker type from the wrong part of town. The thought of you sticking around if you knew I’d been a biker from a one-percenter club with a dark background too? It was just impossible. I couldn’t risk that. I couldn’t give you up.”
“Ash—”
“Please, just hear me out.” I murmur, stepping closer yet again. I’m still holding her hands tightly, as tightly as I wish I was holding her - and if I wasn’t so intent on what I have to say here, I know I would have pulled her into my arms the second I got near her. “I was wrong. I fucked up. I know that. I should have told you - I should have risked those consequences, instead of putting you and our baby in danger without you ever knowing. I’m sorry and I promise I’ll never lie to you again - about anything. If you want to know everything I’ve ever done, I’ll tell you—”
“I don’t. Ash, I don’t want to know—”
I nod, a small relief relaxing something within me. If she’d asked me to, I would have told her, but it would have been hell to have to admit everything I did back then to her. These days, I feel a whole lot more ashamed of who I was back then - and I know a lot of it is because of Chloe.”
“Then you don’t need to know. It’s all done, now. Gone. That might have been who I was back then - but not anymore. I left that behind before I even met you - and everything that came after me the last few months, that tried to drag me back…that’s all over too. It’s done, Chloe. And I’m through with those guys for good—it’s never coming back. None of it.”
I can see the uncertainty on her face - there’s hope there as well, the kind of longing that’s infusing every heart beat within me too - but it doesn’t change the hesitation. I get that. I know why it’s there. It’s painful to see the hint of distrust there, but I can’t deny I deserve it.
“I promise, Chloe - and I’m never going to let you down again. It’s over now, but if you don’t believe me - we can go somewhere else. Anywhere. I’ll sell the shop, leave Baltimore and all of this behind and we can go somewhere new to start afresh - away from anyone who could possibly know me. Wherever you want. Whatever you want. All I want is a life with you - you and our baby, both. If you’ll give me that - give me another chance - we can make it whatever you want.”
She’s blinking now, her eyes moist as I hear the hint of a gasp in her breath. I hope that’s a good thing. I hope that something I’m saying is working. I don’t know what else I can do if it doesn’t.
Then I step back, my heart in my throat as I risk it all - for what I want more than anything else.
I slowly sink down to one knee, my hand pulling the box out of my pocket as Chloe’s eyes widen as she stares at me - disbelief slowly spreading across her face.
“I love you, Chloe. I didn’t stop thinking about you - you or the baby - for a moment, the whole time I was in there. All I wanted was to make this right. Please, let me make it right. Let me do what I should have done from the start - what I’ve wanted for so long now.” I open the box, letting her see the ring sparkling there. “Marry me, Chloe - give me the family I’ve been dreaming of this whole time with you. Start a new life with me and let me spend it loving you as you deserve, building a family together.”