Snowed In with Her Ex

* * *

Bree was a fool. She’d suspected it for a while now, but standing in the middle of the Whitman Gallery with a half-empty glass of champagne and Ian nowhere in sight, she was certain.

She hadn’t noticed his absence at first. She’d figured he wouldn’t be there on the dot anyway, and she’d been busy when the event had first started. The gallery owner had introduced her to the waiting crowd and she had spoken for a few moments about her collection and its inspiration. Then she’d made her way through the room, meeting people and chatting about her work. Before she knew it, nearly two hours had passed and there was no sign of him.

She pulled her flip phone out of the pocket of her dress, but it was just as she expected. No calls. No texts. No surprises. The show was almost over and he had stood her up once again.

Bree slammed the phone shut and shoved it back in her pocket. She was trying not to let this ruin her night. She had worked long and hard to get to this point. A lot of important and influential people in the industry were here tonight to see her work. Big things could be on the horizon for her if she played her cards right. That meant she had to focus, smile and schmooze with the people strolling through the gallery. And she had. But as the night went on, it was getting harder to keep a smile on her face.

It helped that so many of her friends had come to support her. All her coworkers and even some of the couples who had appreciated the work she’d done for their weddings were in attendance. Both her parents had come, which was a miracle on its own. She’d figured her mother would show, but her dad’s arrival had caught her off guard. He’d torn himself away from his construction business for Bree’s big night. He knew how important it was to her. How could Ian not see that?

“Oh, Bree, this one is wonderful.”

Bree pulled herself out of her funk to see Amelia beside her. Her eyes were focused on the large black-and-white photo in front of them. No wonder her thoughts had gotten so dark. She didn’t realize she’d stopped in front of that particular portrait until that moment.

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sp; It was the photo she’d taken of Ian in the mountains. She hadn’t planned on adding additional pieces to her collection this late, but once she saw the shot of him playing his guitar, she knew she had to include it. It might very well be one of her best pieces in the gallery tonight. She’d been proud of that shot. Now she was looking at having her most well-received piece being a photo of her ex. Of course.

“I’ve never seen this photo before,” Amelia said. “I thought I’d seen all your work.”

“It’s a new one.” Her tone was noncommittal, trying to keep Amelia from pushing the subject. In addition to this portrait, she’d also printed out the picture Ian had taken of her in bed that morning in Gatlinburg. It was a beautiful shot with the morning sun giving a golden aura to her shape. Because she hadn’t taken it, it couldn’t be in her collection, but she was going to hang it in her apartment somewhere. He’d been right. There weren’t enough photos of her.

“I really love it. Is that Ian playing the guitar? The Ian?”

Bree took a deep breath. “Yes, that’s him. Soak it in. It might be all you ever see of him.”

Amelia turned to look at her with a frown. “Why? What’s going on? I thought he was supposed to be here tonight. I was looking forward to meeting him.”

“I was looking forward to introducing you to him.” Bree could feel unwanted tears start to form beneath her eyelids. She wasn’t going to cry at her showing. She wouldn’t. She could hold it together until she got home and could mope privately.

Amelia wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder. The caterer and pastry chef of From This Moment was big on the power of love. She was a true believer, unlike Natalie, who thought the whole concept was bunk. Bree fell in the middle of the spectrum. She believed in love; she just didn’t think that love alone could solve all her problems.

Bree hadn’t mentioned how she felt about Ian to her, or anyone for that matter. If she had, Amelia would be telling Bree she had no doubt that Ian would charge in on his white steed and sweep her off her feet.

“He’ll be here,” Amelia reassured her. “I’m sure he got caught up in something, but he still has time.”

He had fifteen minutes. Even if he showed up, it wouldn’t matter. He would have missed the whole thing.

“I’ll be fine, Amelia. Don’t worry about me. Enjoy yourself. Drink more wine before the bar closes. I’ve got to go wrap up a few things with the gallery management before we’re done.”

Amelia departed reluctantly. The look on her face made it obvious that she knew Bree was just making excuses to be alone. The crowds were starting to dwindle and it was a cue for everyone to go home. Bree thanked the last folks as they made their way out, then sat down on the bench in the center of the room.

This part of the gallery was a white-walled rectangle with track lighting to illuminate the art. Bree was facing four pictures, each showcasing a part of Nashville that she loved. She had never been more proud of her work than she was tonight. Yet her heart was heavy. She’d wanted to believe that Ian meant what he’d said when he told her he’d be here come hell or high water. Just like she’d wanted to believe him back in school. But the results were just the same. She was alone. Forgotten. Discarded.

“Bree!”

She looked up to see Ian burst into the room. He looked panicked. Frantic. And he should. There were only five other guests in the gallery. Catering was breaking down. The party was over. And here he was. She supposed she should be pleased that he arrived at all, but at the moment, she just couldn’t make herself appreciate that fact.

Bree stood slowly. She turned toward him as he approached her, but she didn’t go to him the way he expected her to. She knew that by the way he stopped short of pulling her into his arms.

He stood awkwardly a few feet away, a bundle of white daisies in his hands. They were her favorite flower, but she didn’t know if he remembered that or if it was just a good guess. Either way, a couple of flowers couldn’t make up for what he’d missed.

“These are for you,” he said, holding out the bouquet.

“Thanks.” Bree accepted them, but it didn’t do much to soften the hard, armored exterior she’d built up waiting for him to arrive.

“I’m so sorry I’m late. I can explain,” he began, but Bree didn’t want to hear it.