The Artist's Touch (The Gentlemen's Guild Book 1)

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  Tristan groaned, the pain meds starting to dull his headache, but the lack of alcohol allowing his heartache to return with full force. “What am I going to do?”

  Sloane laughed. “Man, the only thing you’ve asked for more than another drink in the past three days is the answer to that question.”

  “What was your answer?”

  “I didn’t have one.”

  “Seriously? You can’t even give me a fucking crumb of advice,” Tristan replied angrily. He caught Sloane’s piercing blue stare, realizing that he’d crossed a line. “Fuck, sorry. I’m…God, I don’t even know. I’m a fucking mess.”

  “Exactly. I’ll tell you what I told you before. You do love her and there is nothing you can do to change that. Your only choice is how you lose her – willingly or unwillingly. I don’t have the answer for which way you should go, and, even if I did, you aren’t mentally or physically in the right place to work through that right now. You need to sober up and get your shit together, go into work, clean up your life that’s been continuing to go on around you for the past three days, and then, when you’re back in your right mind, we can talk about advice.”

  “Yeah,” Tristan sighed in agreement. The truth of Sloane’s words sinking in with the somber reality of the situation. “Shit. My office has been calling?”

  Sloane laughed again. “If by your office, you mean Donna, then yes. Christ, that woman is a force to be reckoned with. I tried to hire her out from under you while you were unconscious on my couch. You are in big trouble with her for this disappearing act in the middle of the Vanguard transition.”

  Tristan began to laugh, until he realized how painful it was. “Yeah,” he said tightly. “She’s going to have my ass for this one. Any chance I can get some more water?”

  Sloane grabbed his glass saying, “that’s the only drink I’m willing to get you.”

  Tristan closed his eyes and leaned back against the couch, his head falling back, trying to brace himself for the day ahead. Three days meant that today was Thursday. There was no way he was going into the office like this today, which meant tomorrow was going to be a shit-show. Right now, he needed to go home.

  “Fuck,” he groaned, fists clenching.

  “What’s wrong?” Sloane asked, the thud of the freshly-filled glass of water hitting the table.

  “My apartment. It’s a nightmare.” Both physically and emotionally.

  “Yeah, I know. You whined about that too, I think…yeah, Tuesday night you whined about that one.”

  Tristan chugged down half of the new glass of water, ignoring his friend’s taunting remarks. “I need to get someone in to clean it before I go back there. I can’t go in and see it all…again.”

  “I did.”

  He looked up at his friend. “What do you mean?”

  “I had it cleaned for you,” Sloane explained casually.

  “Seriously?” Tristan asked, stunned by the gesture.

  “Yes, seriously.”

  “Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Yeah well, I didn’t want there to be any excuses why you weren’t getting your sorry ass off my couch and going back home today so, you can thank me, but it was purely out of selfish motivation that I did it.” Even though Sloane laughed as he said it, Tristan knew that that wasn’t the real reason. Sloane had done it to help him, and that meant he must have been really fucked up and upset.

  “Yeah, I bet,” he scoffed, making his first attempt to stand. The successful move, while uncomfortable, was a promising start for the rest of the day. “Alright, let me call a cab and get out of your hair.”

  He picked up his cell – which was fully charged, thanks to Sloane, and called for a car. He looked around the place for anything else of his that he’d brought.

  “You’re holding it,” Sloane said.

  “What?”

  “You only had your cell and a bag of liquor when you got here on Monday, so if you’re looking for the rest of your stuff well, that’s it.”

  “Alright, well that makes it easy.” Tristan slipped on his shoes. “Thanks for letting me crash here. Sorry that I gave you no warning and probably dumped a whole shitload of shit on you.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m pretty confident that my couch has now seen more talk time than my therapist’s, but what are friend’s for?” he joked, slapping Tristan on the back as they headed for the front door.

  “One more thing,” Tristan began as he walked out the door, “have I heard anything…about her…” He felt so lame for asking, but he honestly couldn’t remember and even though he’d been there when the doctor said Ellie was going to be fine from the fall, he couldn’t shake the edge of needing to know that she’d gone home ok.

  “No, you haven’t,” Sloane replied gently, hearing the desperation in Tristan’s voice.

  “Ok, thanks again.”

  “But,” Sloane called after him, “I called the hospital yesterday and even though they wouldn’t tell me anything about her, I did manage to charm the nurse into telling me that she’d been sent home yesterday. So, I’m guessing that means she’s ok.”

  Tristan just nodded, his jaw clenching at the thoughtfulness of his friend, calling the hospital knowing he’d be asking about her. He stepped into the elevator of Sloane’s building, heading down to the car waiting for him, and the freshly cleaned apartment that had been vacant for days.

  Knowing Sloane, his apartment was going to be wiped cleaner than the day he’d moved in; now, all that was left was to find out just how well the alcohol had wiped his memories.

  Ellie was tired of being in the hospital. It seemed like nowadays, it was like they couldn’t release you soon enough, except apparently when it was her turn for a stay. They’d kept her into Tuesday to make sure nothing flared up in her head after the fall, taking more scans after the first twenty-four hours to check for signs of bleeding and swelling. Everything had come back clear, which meant that under normal circumstances, she should have been able to go home. But cancer always complicated normal circumstances. Her bloodwork still hadn’t come back before the doctor left for the day on Tuesday, and because Dr. Sion was afraid her cancer was returning, they didn’t want to release her without having the results in front of them. Which meant she was held until Wednesday.

  Her dad had kept her company most of the time, except when she forced him to go into the office to get work done, insisting that she wasn’t going anywhere. The periods of solitude, she’d spent in mourning. Just staring at the wall or out the window, not even seeing what was in front of her, just the images that were replaying in her mind. In those times, she relived her brief yet life-changing relationship with Tristan – the happy, sad, erotic, inspiring, loving, and heartbreaking moments. She felt and relished each and every emotion, processing it just like she processed trying new foods; except this time she was absorbing every sensation the feelings evoked so that when she left here, she wouldn’t have to feel them ever again.

  About noon on Wednesday, the door to her room had opened and in walked, not just Dr. Marks, but her father and Dr. Sion. Confusion bloomed on her face; she knew the hospital had contacted Dr. Sion but without the results of the test, there was really nothing else that she could do.

  “Dr. Sion, what is –” Ellie began before the doctor cut her off, a smile spreading over her face.

  “Ellie, I have great news. I had to come over in person because we got the results from your blood test back and because of the issues we had, I was waiting to confirm the results with the sample that the hospital took. The tests are back and everything is completely normal,” Dr. Sion shared gleefully, as Ellie’s father moved to the bed to clasp Ellie’s hand. Ellie’s eyes widened, her brain reluctantly trying to process what Dr. Sion had just said. “Your cancer is still in remission, Ellie,” Dr. Sion continued more directly, “it hasn’t returned, you just had an interesting case of the flu.”

  “You hear that, sweetheart? You’re still cancer-free,” her father reiterated
with tears in his eyes.

  “And that means that I’m here to tell you that you are finally free to go home,” Dr. Marks chimed in.

  “Are you…are you sure?” Ellie choked out in disbelief.

  “Absolutely. Your new tests came back completely normal. You can stop all of the medication that I’ve had you on, because I agree with Dr. Marks – and you, that they seem to be the cause of your fainting spells.”

  Ellie covered her mouth as the sobs began to come. Her whole body shook as her father’s arms encircled her. “Thank you,” she barely got out before her emotional relief made it too hard for her to talk. Turning into her dad’s shoulder, she hugged him tightly, crying into his jacket. For the second time this week, she was completely overwhelmed with her emotions. Thankfully, this time it was relief and happiness that was radiating through every cancer-free cell in her body.

  After the past few days, she’d lost so much and she’d assumed the worst about her disease too. Now, to find out that she was still truly in remission was a miracle. All of the worry and anxiety that had been building even since Dr. Sion told her that her bloodwork was inconclusive finally surged out of her, evaporating into excitement.

  She was a survivor.

  Hope and happiness bloomed in her chest where resignation had previously resided.

  She was cancer-free. She had a future.

  She cried against her father, both of them shedding tears of joy as the doctors quietly made their way out of the room. Of course, it wasn’t definitive – life never was. There was also the chance that it could still recur, but today, in this moment, neither of them allowed that slim possibility to deter their spirits. Somehow, this time, hearing that the cancer was in remission was more Earth-shattering than the last. Maybe because the last time she had no idea what to expect from life; she’d had no idea what it could offer her. Now, she did.

  Ellie knew who she was, what she was capable of, that she was so much more than what the leukemia and the therapy had done to her, and most importantly, she knew she was no longer afraid to put herself out there, to go after her dreams…to live.

  Tristan had showed her that. She’d walked into his life, saw the gorgeous God sitting up high on his pedestal, and wondered why he would choose her; every time she’d stared into his polished, golden eyes, she’d been searching for answers. The reality was that she’d never been attracted to their shine; their shine wasn’t real, but only a reflection. His eyes, and his drawings, had only reflected the woman she’d been refusing to acknowledge. She’d been looking for answers in those mirrors and loving him had let her admit to herself that they’d been showing her the truth of who she was this whole time.

  The excitement and happiness and hope was all made more poignant though from Tristan’s loss. She’d lost him, but gained back her life – not that those things were mutually exclusive, but that was what life had dealt her. Still sitting in the hospital bed, it certainly felt like a trade – her love for her life.

  And she wasn’t sure that that trade was one she would have willingly made.

  “Can you believe it, sweetheart?” her dad asked, his eyes still teary.

  Ellie gave him a tremulous smile, “I’m certainly trying to.”

  “This is wonderful!” he exclaimed, standing up from the side of the bed. “I’m going to call the office and let them know I won’t be in for the rest of the day; I’m getting you out of here and we are going to go celebrate! Where should we go? What do you feel like eating?”

  She paused for a second, thinking. “What about Indian food?”

  Her father’s response was almost comical – his eyes widening, his mouth dropping open and then closing and then opening again, trying to get the words out. “I didn’t know you liked Indian food,” he began, “have you had it before? Will I like it?”

  “Nope. And I guess we will find out,” Ellie responded playfully. “I think it’s about time for us to try something new, don’t you think?”

  A loving smile spread over his face. “Absolutely.”

  Ellie watched him leave, wondering why Indian food had been the first thing that had come to her mind, but it had. Something new. This was her chance to finally start fresh, and she couldn’t continue under the assumption that only Tristan could have her experience new things. He was gone and, if the unacknowledged hurt and fear in his eyes were any indication, he wouldn’t…he couldn’t come back. But, what he’d given her – the confidence, the drive to push her boundaries, that didn’t have to leave along with him; no, she would keep growing even though the source of her inspiration was gone.

  Her heart might be broken, but if there was one thing that surviving cancer had taught her, finally, it was that losses are meant to be learned from, not caged by. She might never love someone again, but at least the rest of her life was still hers to live. Finally.

  Chapter 32

  It still wasn’t right.

  Tristan stared at the portrait in front of him, frustrated at both it and himself. For the first time since he could remember, he couldn’t get his hand to cooperate with his heart. This was the third attempt he’d made at Ellie’s portrait – the first two lay crumpled up next to him, this one about to be added to the pile with all of the eraser marks staining the paper’s pristine surface. Nothing that he drew was right, nothing made the image look more like her.

  The way he figured it, he was right about dead center of the ‘bargaining’ phase of grief. He laughed in spite of himself, pouring himself a modest drink while he continued to psycho-analyze himself.

  The first few days, the ones he still didn’t quite remember, had been phase one – denial. He’d drank himself to oblivion to forget her; he didn’t just want to deny his feelings for her or the fact that she has cancer, he’d wanted to deny her whole fucking existence; hell, the way he’d drank, he’d want his fucking existence, too. Go big or go home, right? After three days, even his stubborn ass got the message that that was impossible. So, he’d made his goals slightly more achievable now trying to believe that he didn’t really love her.

  He just happened to think about her all the time.

  “Shut up,” he grumbled to himself.

  Sloane had kicked him out, literally, of the denial stage. Which meant he was on to stage two – anger. Since he’d left Sloane’s apartment, the days had blurred together, punctuated only by moments of forced lucidity when he had to deal with work. He’d gone into the office the next day – Friday, and Donna had ripped him a new one; in the politest way possible, of course, and being in his current state, he’d almost fired her for it. Thankfully, he wasn’t certifiably insane; she’d saved his ass more times than he could count, and so he apologized.

  After that mishap with uncontrolled rage, he’d focused on the Vanguard integration for the solid and solitary eight hours of the workday; it had been fucking magical. Until he’d come back home and realized that no matter how spotless his apartment had been cleaned, nothing could remove the stain that her love left on his heart. He’d tried everything – reading, watching TV, taking Benadryl to try to sleep; it didn’t matter, she was always there, begging him to come back to her. After a sleepless Friday night, he got up off the couch where’d he’d been lying – unable to face his bed. He took one look at the portrait he’d done of Ellie – her indescribable happiness, her eyes that had been watching him all night, her smile that had set his body on fire, and he tore it up and set it ablaze.

  As if destroying her portrait from his home would destroy her presence in his heart.

  That was the second foolish assumption he’d made, but at least he only saw her in his mind now. He didn’t even care about the stupid fucking competition this coming weekend, he’d withdraw at some point this week because there was no way he was going to willingly participate in anything having to do with love; not that he could now with no chance of getting his mother’s portrait back – another thought that fueled his rage.

  So, he’d turned to exercising…hard. He push
ed his body beyond its breaking point in the hopes that it would halt his mind and give him some peace. If he cared about PR’s the last few days would have broken so many records but, all he cared about was eliminating the anger inside of him before it burned him from the inside out.

  He’d been so fucking angry.

  The doctor’s words had replayed in his mind fueling his anger at Ellie for not telling him.

  No, that’s a lie – they fueled his anger at Ellie for having cancer.

  Because it was her fault, obviously. Not. It was an asshole feeling to have, but he had it, which is why his anger was then directed towards himself – for being an asshole, for saying the things that he had to her, knowing just how to hurt her most caustically. Her stricken face played over in his mind recalling the things that he’d told her. But mostly he was angry with himself for being foolish enough to fall in love with someone who was dying.

  That realization, about his anger, had come yesterday. It effectively pulled him completely out of denial in finally admitting that he loved her and placed him knee-deep in anger for doing so. The good news was, he’d finally slept last night. It had only been for a few hours, but it had been enough to clear some of the emotional fog.

  Waking up this morning for work, his head hadn’t felt so heavy. It wasn’t that he didn’t think of Ellie, because of course he did, but there was no overwhelming anger that accompanied it. He’d been optimistic that he was finally back on track, relishing the mundane tasks at the office, enjoying the feeling of being productive. That was until he got home; he’d started to eat the simple dinner he’d made for himself when the blank pad on his easel called to him. He’d tried to ignore it, but Ellie wouldn’t leave him alone.