Well I guess there’s nothing I can do about it now anyway.
I turned around.
The college aged woman had two friends with her that I didn’t hear come in since I was staring at Bianca with my back to the door. The one whose voice I heard when she entered in seemed to be the leader of the pack. “We have to visit a gallery for a homework assignment. Are we able to take pictures in here? The last one said yes, but they didn’t have anything interesting.”
“Unfortunately, policy doesn’t allow for work to be photographed. If you would like to discuss the issue with the gallery owner, let me get you a card from my desk.”
“I’ll get it for you,” I interjected. “You’re looking for Nina’s business card right?”
I took the few steps to Bianca’s desk to grab the card when I heard one of the college girls speak first. “Wow, he’s hot. Is that your boyfriend?”
“Mandy!” The one who I guessed was the one whose voice I heard when first they walked in looked embarrassed. “Shut up!”
I smiled politely as the three women gawked at me. The business card paper felt like it was digging into my skin.
Bianca beamed at me before answering them. “Yes. He’s my boyfriend. And he’s also a talented artist.”
“You two would have pretty kids,” Mandy commented.
Bianca’s horrified expression seemed to match mine. As squealing laughter floated through the air, I tried to tear my eyes away from Bianca’s, but I couldn’t. The longer we stared at each other, the less the idea sounded ridiculous and the more I realized how much I wanted to spend my life with her.
She’s my forever. Like B keeps saying, we are connected.
I slowed to a stop in front of their little group, still keeping my eyes on Bianca. Her face was tinged with redness and her eyebrows seemed to have relocated to the middle of her forehead.
Rubbing my face with my hand, I laughed. Looking from face to face of the four women, I shook my head.
“Thank you,” I said, glancing at the outspoken one before my eyes found Bianca’s again. “I agree that we will. But not before I make her my wife.”
As they awed, Bianca sucked in a sharp breath. Her lips parted and she still had a look of disbelief on her face.
What am I thinking? Kids? Marriage? Elizabeth coming to visit? What is going on with me? This day has been crazy. That’s the only word for it. This is exactly why I can’t go so many days without painting.
“Can you walk with me outside for a second? I’m going to pick up your lunch since you can’t leave now.”
Bianca turned to the three of them. “I’ll be back in a minute. You can start at that sculpture right there and we will discuss it further when I return.”
Holding the front door open, I allowed Bianca to walk out of the gallery first.
Once we were outside and the cool November breeze tickled my skin, I felt like I could breathe easier.
“What the hell was that?”
I shook my head. “You’re going to have your hands full with that group.”
She slapped my arm. “No, not them. You!” She slapped my arm again.
Her eyes narrowed at me. “The first time we talk about kids or marriage will not be at work in front of three random strangers!”
I grabbed her shoulders and brought my forehead to hers. “Do you want kids?”
Her brown eyes softened. “Yes.”
“So do I. Do you want kids now?”
“No.”
“Neither do I.”
“Do you want to get married?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to get married now?”
Something in the look she gave me made my heart pound in my chest. She chewed the corner of her mouth before opening her mouth to answer. “I—”
The sound of the phone ringing inside of the gallery interrupted our moment and cut her off.
I what? What were you going to say? I silently screamed at her as she took a step away from me.
“I have to get that,” Bianca whispered. “I don’t know how long these three will be. Go to lunch without me. I’ll order something that delivers and then I’ll see you when I get home. Are you still going to your studio?”
My tongue felt like it was made of lead. I nodded.
She gave me a weird smile. “Okay.” Pressing her lips against mine sweetly, she pulled away. “I love you.”
Then she ran back inside the building, closing the door behind her, leaving me with more questions than answers.
What the hell is happening today?
----------
Chapter Twenty-Three
“B, I’m home!” I yelled out as I burst into our apartment. I spent the last six hours perfecting the base color of three different canvases for a new series. It was tedious and tiring and I loved every second of it. I was riding a high that only art and Bianca could give me. “B!”
The lights were down low, but I didn’t sense any movement.
Where is she? I wondered as I made a beeline for the bedroom. Stripping out of my paint covered clothes, I found my cell phone.
Before I pressed the call button, I stood in front of the picture of us that Bianca painted over the summer. I didn’t even know it existed until the first night I stayed at her apartment. The abstract construction of the figures looked like two vines twisting and winding from the bottom of the small canvas to the top. But the longer you looked at it, the easier it became to see the detail. The body parts, even the heads, were wrapped around one another.
Connected.
The way she explained it, the picture depicted a physical, spiritual, mental and emotional connection. She told me that it represented a love that was so deeply imbedded in two entities that the two twist themselves into one. And then she looked at me and said that we were connected.
If I hadn’t already been convinced that Bianca and I felt the same way about each other, I was when I saw the painting on her nightstand.
“Hey Ro,” Bianca answered on the first ring. “I was just about to call you.”
Smiling at the sound of her voice, a sense of relief washed over me. “Well it looks like I just saved you a call.”
She gasped loudly. “My hero!”
“Ha ha,” I replied dryly. “You’re an ass, you know that?”
“I have to be to put up with your shit.”
“You love my shit.”
“I love everything about you.”
My heart fluttered and I was glad she couldn’t see the goofy smile that was on my face. “Where are you?”
“You didn’t get my note? I just ran up the street to get green peppers and onions. I’m making quesadillas tonight.”
“You’re making quesadillas?” I repeated jokingly. This was the first time Bianca had ever cooked dinner for me. “I thought you only knew how to cook breakfast food.”
“Shut up!” Her throaty laugh echoed in the phone. “I cook! I don’t know why you’ve convinced yourself that I don’t. How do you think I kept myself fed all these years? You know for damn sure my parents didn’t cook.”
“I could see Lidia in the kitchen”
“Yeah, ordering a chef around,” Bianca quipped with thinly masked annoyance.
Time to change the subject.
“So quesadillas, huh? Those can get tricky. Do you have all of the ingredients?”
“It’s tortillas, chicken, green peppers and onions. I think I can handle it.”
“Do we have cheese?”
She paused. “Of course I have cheese,” she snapped.
She forgot the cheese.
“I got this,” Bianca continued. “Instead of worrying about these quesadillas, worry about getting cleaned up and looking pretty for me when I get home. How about that?”
My chuckle erupted from my chest. “Works for me, beautiful. Works for me.”
After we said our goodbyes, I showered and dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. When I entered the kitchen, I noticed a note on the refrigerator that
I didn’t see when I first came home.
“Went to the store to get food for dinner. Should be back in thirty minutes. The chicken is in the oven. Love you.” I read Bianca’s note aloud as I checked on the chicken.
A small stack of mail sat on the counter. As I thumbed through it, I saw a pink slip indicating a package had been sent and left downstairs. Grabbing my keys and slipping on my shoes, I headed down to the lobby.
“Hi Keisha,” I greeted her as soon as I stepped off of the elevator. Just seeing her put a smile on my face because I couldn’t stop thinking about how Brad was flirting with her. “How’s everything?”
“I’m ready to go home, but some housing issues have come up and I have to deal with them.” She looked like she wanted to say something else, but she held herself back.
I nodded, but didn’t say anything. Usually I didn’t involve myself in other people’s business, but something felt particularly pointed about her response. I looked at her expectantly and waited.
Why would she emphasize ‘housing issues’ and ‘deal with them’ if she didn’t want to elaborate? Unless her issues have to deal with me. Without touching the money in my trust, my bank account has more than enough to cover both the rent in New York and the mortgage in Virginia. I’ve lived in the place for a few days and there’s only one other apartment on the floor. There’s no way there could be a complaint or an issue on our end. Could it?
Keisha looked passed me and then leaned forward. “Let Bianca know that Stanley and Lidia Baker stopped by and are not pleased that their apartment has been vacated. But since there was no lease, there’s nothing I could do about it.” She gave me a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She pulled at the sleeves of her grey suit jacket before clasping her hands in front of her. “I can’t say anything more, but I just wanted to give you two the heads up. They didn’t seem pleased and I heard them say they would be back.”
I ran my hand down my face. What the hell?
“Thank you. I appreciate the information.”
She nodded. “So how can I help you?”
“I need to pick up a package.” I held up the pink mail slip.
“Okay, let me check.” She took the piece of paper out of my hand and strode into a storage room.
While I waited, I scanned the room for any signs of the Bakers.
“Here we are,” Keisha announced. “Looks like you got a gift.”
When I turned around, I was surprised to see a gift box with an oversized bow.
What is this? A frame? A photo? Legal documents?
I looked at the return address and it didn’t have a name, but it was a Richmond, Virginia address. It was sent to my house in Richmond and then forwarded to my new address.
This had to be sent at the end of last week. I just changed my address less than a week ago.
“Thank you,” I mumbled as I stared at the street name. It looked familiar, but I couldn’t think of a single house or business on that street.
As I rode up the elevator, I stared at the package with my name on it in unfamiliar script.
When I walked through the front door, I caught the tail end of my phone ringing against the bar. Rushing across the room to it, I answered it before it could end.
“B!”
“Hey! I was just about to hang up. I’m on my way back from the market. Do you want anything?”
“Just you.”
“I’ll be home in ten minutes.” I could hear the smile in her voice as she said the word home.
“I can’t wait, baby.”
We said our goodbyes and I tossed my phone on the bar beside the box.
As weird as the day had been, it had also been incredible. It was surreal, but it was as if everything was falling into place like it was supposed to. For everything that went right, something else was strange.
Spent time with my boys…and then was late for my meeting with Charlotte Spence.
Was given the opportunity to be in a show…but the circumstances surrounding it seemed off.
Had a real conversation with Elizabeth…and then actually invited her to New York for a visit.
Tried to go on a lunch date with B…and then ended up talking marriage and kids.
Spent time in the studio and was inspired…and then received this gift from someone back home.
“Definitely weird,” I muttered under my breath as I carefully opened the box.
Pulling out a manila folder, I felt my face scrunch up in confusion. I turned the folder over in my hand a couple times looking for a clue as to what was inside.
Opening it, I saw the edges of photo paper wrapped in tissue paper.
Maybe it’s the photography proofs they wanted to use for the article. Which reminds me, I need to call and reschedule the meeting with the journalist. She seemed understanding that I didn’t want to give the interview in the middle of a move, but I don’t want to leave her waiting too long, I thought, making a mental note as I pulled out the photographs. If I can set the interview up for some time this week and—.
My heart slammed into my chest so hard that an unfamiliar sound burst out of me.
Rage and fear rushed through my veins at a decibel so deafeningly loud that it sounded like screams.
I had a hard time catching my breath, but I still managed to let out a garbled, “What the fuck?”
Between my shaky fingers, I held five pictures of Bianca. She had on a metallic gold top underneath a black fitted skirt and blazer. She looked sexy, but professional. I knew the outfit because she texted me a picture of herself in it on Thursday morning. That was also the only full day that I wasn’t with Bianca since deciding to move in together. I was in Richmond packing and when she sent me the picture, I remember noticing how the gold brought out the golden undertone of Bianca’s skin.
I stared at the pictures in front of me, spreading them out across the bar top.
Someone was following, B, I realized with a growing unease at her absence. Well not someone. Ashton. Ashton is following, B. I know I promised her I wasn’t going to kick Ashton’s ass, but this has taken things to a whole new level. If he’s following her or having her followed, I need to put a stop to it. This has gone too far.
I don’t know how or why they were taken, but I knew there was a reason behind it. And that scared me the most. If he was trying to scare her, he would’ve sent them to her.
This message is for me. What are the pictures telling me?
Searching each picture carefully, I had hoped to catch a glimpse of the man behind the camera in the reflection of one of the gallery windows. But there was nothing until the last photo of Bianca and Nina.
While the photo was focused on Bianca, Nina seemed to be looking directly at the camera. Bianca was going into Pho Gallery and Nina was coming out. They seemed to be greeting each other and while only Bianca’s profile could be seen, Nina’s entire face was shown as she looked directly at the camera, waving.
Maybe Nina will be able to identify who this is.
I felt myself getting excited.
This will be over soon. I’ll have proof. Bianca can get an order of protection.
The sound of Bianca at the door startled me. Quickly scooping up the pictures, I stuffed them back into the manila envelope. I was able to get the envelope into the box by the time Bianca opened the door.
I can’t tell her about this yet. I don’t want her scared. I will just talk to Nina tomorrow and then I’ll tell her about it.
Spinning around, I forced the nerves down and put a smile on my face. “You’re home.” I crossed the room quickly and took the bags out of her hands.
After a quick kiss, she smiled. “Say it again.”
“It again.”
She rolled her eyes and fought the smile that played on her lips. “I can’t stand you. You are ridiculous and you play too much.”
Following her into the kitchen, I replied, “I love you, too.”
While she went to go change into something more comfortable to cook in, I
took the box and took it into the studio. Sitting it on a stack of boxes, it blended right in. When I came back into the kitchen, she was washing her hands in the sink wearing short shorts, a tank top, and an apron.
I can definitely get used to this.
I sat down at the bar and watched her chop vegetables.
“Do you need any help?”
“No, I’m cooking for you tonight. I told you. Just sit there and look pretty.”
I laughed. “I don’t mind sitting here. The view is breathtaking.” I tilted my head to the side, keeping my eyes glued to her perfect ass.
“Hey! Eyes up here, Mr. Harper. This isn’t dinner and a show.”
I laughed again. Being around Bianca always made everything better, but in the back of my mind, I kept seeing the photographs of her.
Bianca grabbed a cast iron skillet and put it on the stove. “So guess who I talked to today.”
“Your parents?” I guessed. Even if I was wrong, it would be a perfect segue to tell her what Keisha had just told me.
Glancing over her shoulder, Bianca looked surprised. “How did you know?”
I smiled in response.
“Well anyway, on the way from the store just now, my father called and wanted to talk to me about what happened the last time we were at their house.” She bent over to get the chicken out of the oven and I found it hard to concentrate on the rest of what she was saying. “…for dinner. So what do you think?”
Shit! What did she say? Something about dinner.
“Your parents want to talk and hopefully apologize to you over dinner?”
She turned around. “No, my parents want to talk and hopefully apologize to us over dinner. What do you think?”
“I think making amends with them while you can is a good thing,” I said carefully. I didn’t want to push her, but I didn’t want her to have to go through what I went through since William died.
There are some regrets that stay with you for a lifetime.
Her eyes searched mine. “You’re thinking about William aren’t you?” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m complaining about my parents and I haven’t asked in a few days how you’re doing with…all that you have going on. How are you?”
I got up and walked around the bar. Cupping her face, I tilted her head upward. “Stop. You can talk to me about anything and I don’t want you to ever apologize for it, do you understand me? You’re complaining about your parents because they are horrible people.”
Heartfelt Page 24