Every Day (Brush of Love 2)

“No. I just take five percent of whatever their artwork se

lls for as the price for the space,” I said.

“Who’s the artist of this painting?”

“Max Wentmore,” I said.

“All right. You got a way to contact this Mr. Wentmore?”

“I do. Let me get you his card.”

I stumbled over to the counter and plucked one of his cards from the holder. I could feel rage boiling inside of my stomach, and I knew the moment I handed Mike his card the question he would ask.

“Is there any reason to suspect that Max might’ve done this?” he asked. “I only ask because his painting was on the floor but not torn up.”

“He comes in from time to time. He came in a few days ago, actually.”

I saw Bryan stop his movements while he listened to the words pouring from my trembling jaw.

“H-he, uh, was angry that his artwork wasn’t selling like mine was. I mean, not yelling angry or anything like that, but he was making all these underhanded comments about how his artwork was better than mine and how he didn’t understand why his weren’t selling,” I said.

“Did he threaten you in any way?” Mike asked.

“Not really, but that day I closed the gallery down early and saw him standing across the street staring at us.”

“Who’s us?” Mike asked.

“Bryan and me. We were taking a personal trip somewhere,” I said.

“He was staring at us the day we went to the cemetery?” Bryan asked.

My eyes connected with his, and a wave of shame filled me.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Mike said. “So, you closed down early, and he was staring at you? From across the street or something?”

“Yeah. He was in the diner parking lot leaning against his car. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he was just staring.”

“How long had it been between him leaving the gallery that day, and you guys leaving for the cemetery?” Mike asked.

“About an hour,” I said breathlessly

“All right,” Mike said as he scribbled stuff down. “I’ve got enough to at least pay this guy a visit. I’m gonna have someone pull the footage from that camera. In the meantime, I suggest one of your added updates be some sort of security system.”

“Already on it,” Bryan said as he heaved the new window into place.

“I’ll make sure of it, Offic—I mean, Mike.”

“What I suggest is you go home. Put up a sign for anyone who comes by to let them know you’ll be closed until the investigation is done. Get it repaired, get your head right, and then have a grand reopening. Come back stronger than ever. You’ve developed quite the reputation in this city. People will come out to support you.”

“Thank you, Mike,” I said as tears rose to my eyes. “I’ll take all of that into consideration.”

I watched as the man walked out of the gallery. Bryan was finishing up the window, sealing it in place before he came back inside. I could feel his eyes on me as his arms wrapped around my waist, and in an instant, his finger was underneath my chin and raising my eyes to his.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.

“Because we’d just talked, Bryan. We’d just had that conversation. I didn’t want to do or say anything that would push you further away.”

Tears tracked down my face, and he pulled me into his body. He held me tightly while I closed my eyes, trying to block out everything that was happening. I felt numb and on fire at the same time. I felt heavy with regret and burning with anger at the same time. Bryan’s hands ran up and down my back, trying to quell my shaking body while his lips bathed the top of my head with kisses.