Every Day (Brush of Love 2)

“No, but I have a certification in the practice. I don’t offer them psychological advice. I simply give them an outlet for their emotions they may or may not want to talk about with a psychologist.”

“Fascinating,” she said.

She started jotting down some things in her notebook, and I started to get curious. Who was this woman? Why was she asking so many questions? I was thrilled someone was interested, but no one came in and wrote my answers down. No one was ever so interested they wanted to remember the answers I gave.

“What’s your goal with this gallery?” she asked.

“I want to help show people’s beauty. I want to breathe a fresh breath of life into a beautiful place that has been stripped of its beauty because of the world’s debauched idea of beauty. I wanted to help show other’s beauty for those who are no longer here to show it themselves.”

“Something tells me there’s a personal story behind that. Care to explain?” she asked.

My mind railroaded me again and threw me back to a time when Bryan and I were together. Happy. In love. My heart ached for him and how he was still feeling. So many of her questions were tied to him and his family, and everything in me wanted to scream the story from the rafters. John was worth the attention. His artwork and beauty were worth the attention. His life was worth commemorating, and not just within the walls of a bar.

But I couldn’t talk about it. I couldn’t talk about any of it without talking to Bryan first, and something told me I knew that was never going to happen.

“Not really. It’s just how I’ve always been. That’s the path my artwork has always taken. I was lucky enough to stumble across a construction company with the same values. They helped me get this place in working condition.”

“What construction company was that?” she asked.

“B.D. Construction,” I said. “Bryan McBride was the project manager.”

“Uh-huh. And you were drawn to them because they hold your same beliefs within business?” she asked.

“Beliefs within and outside of business, yes.”

I wanted to tell her all about what Bryan did and about the second chances he gave people within his community. I wanted to talk about his outreach work if only so I could remember him the way I wanted him to. I wanted to tell her all about how he hired homeless men to work on his sites, gave them jobs, paid them well, and got them clean and back on track.

But all of that would dive right back into John, and I couldn’t do that to him.

I couldn’t do that to either of them without reconciling with Bryan first.

“What do you have back here?” she asked.

“Oh, that’s our new shop—”

Before I could catch her, she blew past my small little shop and pushed out the back door. She was looking around like she was searching for something. People were starting to pull up and enter the gallery, which meant I had to get back inside, but the moment I saw her hand land on the door of the storage shed, I had to stop her.

“I’m sorry. Who are you?” I asked.

“Jennifer Skyles, reporter,” she said as she tried to open the door.

“Miss Skyles,” I said as I grabbed her wrist. “That would be private.”

“Yes. Of course.”

I was a bit taken aback. This woman just waltzed into my gallery and thought she had a right to everything simply because she was a reporter. She turned toward me and flashed her one-hundred-watt smile, hoping to smooth things over as I led her back inside.

“I heard about this place from a few of my friends. They absolutely loved the quality of the artwork and the building itself, and I had to come check it out,” she said.

“Well, I’m glad you stopped by.”

“If it’s not too rude of me already, I think the story angle on this is too perfect. You, a traveling artist roaming the world looking for your place, set up shop in a working-class neighborhood next to a rundown diner in a location that’s known for eating small businesses alive. It’s perfect.” she exclaimed.

“I guess if you think so,” I said, shrugging.

“Did you know you were setting up in a place that was rooting for your failure?”

“I don’t think it’s rooting for me to fail, but yes. I did know that businesses struggled to stay open here,” I said.