36
Nina placed the last photograph on the wall, made sure it was attached to the hook, and stepped back to take a look. It was a new series featuring old trestle bridges in the Hudson Valley — the first series Moni had let Nina place on her own. It wasn’t for a show, but Nina still felt proud looking at her handiwork.
“Looks great,” Moni said, joining her by the wall.
“Thanks.”
“Hey!” Moni said. “That’s the first smile I’ve seen on you in awhile.”
Nina sighed. “I think I’ve turned a corner.”
It had been a month since her last horrible conversation with Liam. A month since she’d seen or talked to him, since she’d felt his arms around her.
A month since she’d seen Jack.
She’d had no choice but to tell Moni everything after showing up a mess for work. It was ridiculously unprofessional, but Nina couldn’t hold back the flood of tears, couldn’t eat, could hardly sleep.
She’d been grateful when Moni hadn’t criticized her for the way she’d handled things with Liam. She knew Moni and Liam were friends, but so far Moni had been nothing but supportive.
“Art is good for the soul,” Moni said. “So is work. Speaking of…”
She went to the office at the back of the gallery and returned with a small box in her hand. She held it out to Nina.
“What’s this?”
“Take a look,” Moni said.
Nina opened the box and realized it was filled with business cards. When she removed one she was surprised to see her name hovering over the title Assistant Manager.
“What?” She looked up at Moni. “Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack, which is what you’ll probably have if you take me up on the offer to help run this place. It means more work, more hours, but it also means a small raise.”
“I’ll take it.” She didn’t need to know details about the raise or about the extra work. The gallery and her friendship with Moni had helped her find her way when she first moved to Brooklyn, had been a salve to her broken heart over the past few weeks when she struggled to get through the day without being knocked back by waves of grief and guilt. She looked down at the business card in her hand. “This means so much to me, Moni. Thank you.”
Moni leaned in to give her a hug. “You’ve earned it. It’s such a relief to have someone I can trust here, and you have a real knack for acquisition and curation.”
“Want to go for a celebratory drink?” Nina asked.
Moni frowned. “Can I take a rain check? I have to pick up Angela from rehearsal.”
“Of course,” Nina said. “I need to clean anyway.”
“We’ll do it tomorrow,” Moni said. “Angela’s spending the night at Beth’s.”
“Perfect. It’ll be my reward for a clean apartment,” Nina said.
Moni glanced at her phone. “Do you mind locking up?”
“Not at all.”
They said goodbye and Moni rushed out of the gallery. Nina took one last look at the new series and went to the back to grab her things and shut off the lights.
It was early July, the air warm and humid, the sun hanging just above the city. The sidewalks were busy with people out for drinks after work or enjoying a midweek date, everyone relieved now that the worst of the day’s heat had passed.
She locked the door behind her and started for home. The first couple weeks after she’d broken things off with Liam she’d held her breath around the gallery, half expecting to see him ambling down the street toward her, blue eyes flashing.
He hadn’t appeared, and she finally decided he was probably avoiding the place.
Avoiding her.
She didn’t blame him. She was ashamed of the way she’d behaved, of her rush to jump into something with him and with Jack, of her easy abandonment of reason and transparency in the face of emotions and sensations that were new and overwhelming.
It had been like a fever dream — a lovely and dangerous hallucination that had been replaced with a black and white image when everything fell apart, when she finally returned from the land of Oz.
It was a relief to feel the numbness receding. Karen had helped — as had Robin and Amy — by keeping her busy with yoga classes and Friday night drinks and Sunday brunch and more shopping than Nina had a right to do in her financial situation.
She’d regained her footing little by little, feeling a little stronger every day, a little more like her old self.
No, that wasn’t right.
This wasn’t a side of herself she recognized. Not the Nina from Larchmont, afraid and sad, but also not the woman who’d been out of her mind with lust for Liam and Jack, overwhelmed with feelings she didn’t know what to do with.
Something new was being born within her. It was still becoming, but already it felt good. Right. She felt stronger, more balanced. Like she might just be okay after all.
She came to the apartment and let herself into the lobby. Sal was sweeping and muttering under his breath, Mister Twinkle chasing dust and bits of dirt around as fast as Sal could corral it.
“Hey, Sal,” she said.
He looked up and scowled. “No flower delivery today. First time in a month. I should have added fifty bucks to your rent.”
“I’m sorry.” She bent to pet Mister Twinkle — she hadn’t given up on being his friend — and was met with the dog’s customary high-pitched barking. “Not yet? Okay, maybe next time.”
She walked to the mailbox and noticed a package leaning under the row of boxes.
“What’s this?” Nina asked. It was wrapped in brown paper, nothing but her name on the front of it.
“How am I supposed to know?” Sal grumbled.
She tucked it under her arm, pulled her mail out of the box, and started up the stairs.
Her apartment smelled like a cutting garden, and she walked past the trash can, full of the last batch of white roses sent by Jack the day before.
She wondered what it meant that he hadn’t sent any today. Had he given up on her? It was what she wanted, wasn’t it? To forget him and the terrible night in Paris? To forget her own pain and the pain in his eyes when she’d stepped into the cab?
To put all of it behind her and begin again?
She set down her bag and sat on the couch to open the package. It was half unwrapped when she realized what it was and slowed her movements, letting it reveal itself a little at a time.
When she was done, she took a deep breath, swallowing around the emotion clogging her throat.
The photograph moved through her like a summer wind, the sari a swirl of color in motion, candles flickering in the background. It still made her feel the same things.
Movement. Beauty. Joy.
All of it changing every second. All of it temporary.
She took a deep breath and turned it over. There was no card, no markings on the back. Then again, she didn’t need them.
She thought about setting it aside. About putting it away, for awhile at least. She’d only recently risen above her pain. Did she want a reminder of it staring her in the face every day?
She heard Liam’s voice in her ear, felt his arms around her.
It’s okay to be sad.
She stood and crossed her small living room, glancing around for the perfect spot. She found it on the end table near the window, behind a tiny succulent she’d picked up the week before, right where the sun would catch the colors of the sari in the soft morning light.
She leaned it carefully against the wall, glad Moni always framed everything with UV glass so the colors wouldn’t fade.
When she stood back to look at it, emotion filled her up from the inside out. For a minute, she thought it might drown her. Thought it might pull her under.
It didn’t. That was something else she’d learned.
Feeling things wouldn’t kill her. She was stronger than that.
Her phone buzzed and she picked it up from the coffee table to find a text from Moni
.
Angela’s rehearsal running late. Still want that drink?
Nina typed her reply and picked up her bag, then started for the door. She hesitated, her eyes on the photograph, glowing in the setting sun even from across the room.
Don’t you know you deserve the best of everything, Nina?
And this time it wasn’t Liam’s voice or Jack’s she heard.
It was hers.
Yes.
She closed the door.
Not The End. The Beginning.
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Also by Michelle St. James
Ruthless
Fearless
Lawless
Muscle
Savage
Primal
Eternal
The Sentinel
Rogue Love
Rebel Love
Fire with Fire
Into the Fire
Through the Fire
Eternal Love
King of Sin
Wages of Sin
The Surrender of Nina Fontaine
Thicker Than Water
The Awakening of Nina Fontaine Page 18