Western Waves (Compass 3)

Stella: Where are you?

I’d already texted Jeff four times and called him five, with no response.

“He’s going to come. There’s no way he would stand me up today of all days. I'm sure his phone just died. I’m sure there’s a reason for him not being here on the day that means the most to me.”

I stood in front of the bathroom mirror at my gallery show, trying to shake off all my nerves, and trying to shake off the fact that Jeff hadn’t arrived yet. It was a quarter past nine and the show began at eight. Yet still, my boyfriend was nowhere to be found. I had to stop hiding in the bathroom. Otherwise, people would start to wonder why the artist was not walking around her own display.

“Stella? There’s someone who just arrived saying they’re waiting to see you. I’m guessing it’s your boyfriend,” Marie, the organizer of the event, said from outside the bathroom door.

I swung the door open, feeling the butterflies in the pit of my stomach intensifying with knowing that Jeff had finally arrived. I wanted to be angry with him for being late, but all I really cared about was sharing my artwork with someone I cared about.

“He’s here?” I asked, swinging to open the bathroom door. I smoothed my hands over my white gown and felt my cheeks hurting from smiling so hard from the idea that he had arrived. I felt as if this gallery show was so important for me to share with Jeff because for so long, it felt like nothing more than a dream. I felt as if I finally had something to show him. Something for him to be proud of. Something to prove that I was taking my career seriously, just as he did his own.

“Yes, he's here. Also, I’m shocked that you left out how good-looking he is. Like my gosh, that is a good-looking piece of man.” Marie tossed her hands up in surrender. “But just to be clear, I would never hit on him. I have my own man to do that with,” she joked.

I thanked Marie for notifying me of Jeff’s arrival, yet when I walked out of the bathroom, I was shocked to see that my boyfriend was nowhere to be found. Yet in front of me was a very well-dressed husband of mine. Damian stood there dressed to the nines as he always did, looking around at the gallery of artwork on the walls.

After shaking off the fact that my boyfriend was nowhere to be found, I walked over to Damian to greet him. “Beast,” I said, standing behind him as he stared at one of my favorite pieces. It was titled Blue. “You came.”

“I gave you my word.”

“If only others’ words meant as much as yours,” I muttered.

He raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

I shook my head and pushed out a smile. “Never mind. Is Kelsey with you?”

“We went to dinner but decided not to attend together.”

“Oh no, is everything okay between you two? She had so much good to say about you—”

“I’d rather not speak about her.”

I frowned, feeling as if something went wrong somehow, but I didn’t want to push him. I knew enough about Damian to know that when he was pushed, he clammed up. “I can show you around.”

“Okay.”

We began walking around the gallery, and whenever he’d compliment my work, I’d think about hugging him. Instead, I said, “Thanks for coming tonight.”

“It’s important to you.”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s an honor to be invited.”

Oh, Damian.

I tried to ignore the skipping beats of my heart.

For a hardened beast, he sure had his moments of softness.

“So, the theme of the series tonight is grief. I started years ago, when I was only a little girl, after my mother passed away. Then I finished the final piece after Kevin’s passing. I use a mixture of charcoals and acrylics to make it come together. I recently got into paint pouring, but none of those pieces made it into the final choices for tonight because I don’t feel confident enough in the techniques to showcase them to anyone.”

“If they are even half as good as these, then you’re holding on to masterpieces.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Was that a compliment from the Beast?”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“My ego is already inflating.”

A tiny smile hit the corners of his mouth, but he dropped it just as fast. “How many have you sold?”

“None yet. Honestly, I might not sell any. A handful of people have stopped in, but none found the need to purchase. Which is fine. It’s just exciting to have people viewing my work. Plus, it’s probably my fault. I should’ve dropped the prices. I’m probably overselling myself.”

Damian lowered his brows as he stared my way, then he stepped closer to the painting to look at the price tag.