“I realize this is quite a surprise, as a live performance wasn’t in the program tonight,” Alex said. “And if you know me, you know I’m not famous for my patronage of the arts—or my singing skills.” Soft laughter rippled through the crowd, along with a few knowing looks. Alex waited for the chuckles to die down before he continued, his gaze burning into mine. “Whether it’s music, photography, film, or painting, the arts reflect the world around us, and for too long, I only saw the dark side. The seedy underbellies, the ugly truths. Photographs reminded me of moments in time that never lasted. Songs reminded me that words have the power to rip one’s heart out. Why, then, would I care about art when it was so terrible and destructive?” It was a bold statement to make in front of London’s art world, but no one heckled. No one so much as breathed. Alex had us all under the spell of his words. “Then someone came into my life and upended everything I thought I knew. She was everything I wasn’t—pure-hearted, trusting, optimistic. She showed me the beauty that existed in this world, and through her, I learned the power of faith. Joy. Love. But I’m afraid I’ve tainted her with my untruths, and I’m hoping, with all of my heart, that one day she’ll find her way out of the darkness and into the light again.”
The room rang with breathless silence at the end of Alex’s speech. My heart was pounding, pounding so hard I felt it in my throat. My stomach. My toes. I felt it in every inch of me.
Then he opened his mouth again, and my heart stopped altogether. Because the voice that came out and filled the room? It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard.
It wasn’t just me, either—everyone stared at Alex with rapt fascination, and I was pretty sure a few of the women straight-up swooned.
I pressed my fist to my mouth as the lyrics flowed over me. It was a song about love and heartbreak. Betrayal and redemption. Regret and forgiveness. Each word tore me apart, as did the fact that Alex sang at all. No matter how much I’d cajoled or begged in the past, it was the one thing he’d refused to do.
Until now.
I understood why he’d refused. Alex didn’t just sing, he sang. With emotion, with beauty, with so much rawness it took my breath away. He bared his soul with each note, and for a man who thought his soul was irrevocably damned, the thought of doing that in front of an audience must’ve been unbearable.
Alex finished to thunderous applause. His gaze lingered on mine for one long moment before he disappeared offstage, and the crowd broke up into excited chatter and gasps.
My feet moved before I could think, but I only made it two steps before Diane stopped me.
“Ava, before you leave, there’s someone I want you to meet,” she said. “The editor of World Geographic is here, and they’re always looking for talented young photographers.”
“I—okay.” I looked around, but I didn’t see Alex anywhere.
“Is everything all right? You seem distracted.” Diane examined me with concern. “You’ve been talking about World Geographic all year. I thought you’d be more excited.”
“Yes, I’m fine. Sorry, I’m just a little overwhelmed.” Normally, I would’ve fangirled at the thought of meeting the editor of World Geographic, a travel and culture magazine famous for its stunning photographs and storytelling, but all I could think about was Alex.
“That was quite a performance, huh?” Diane grinned as she led me toward an older man with silver-streaked hair and a thick beard. Laurent Boucher. I recognized him immediately. “If I were twenty years younger…”
I forced a weak laugh.
“Not that it would do me much good. He seemed to only have eyes for you.” She winked at me.
Heat rose on my face, and I mumbled an incoherent response before we reached Laurent.
“Diane, good to see you again.” Laurent’s deep voice rumbled with a charming French accent as he air-kissed her. “You look lovely as always.”
“You’re always such a charmer.” Diane inclined her head toward me. “Laurent, I want you to meet Ava. She’s the fellow I was telling you about.”
“Ah, of course.” Laurent turned his piercing dark eyes on me. “I was talking to Diane about your exhibit earlier this evening. You’re quite talented—young still, and your work could use a little more refinement, but you have extraordinary potential.”
“Thank you, sir.” Between Alex’s performance and praise from Laurent freakin’ Boucher, this whole evening was surreal.
“Please, call me Laurent.”
We chatted for another fifteen minutes, during which Diane excused herself to speak with the fellowship director. At the end of our conversation, Laurent handed me his card and told me to be in touch if I was interested in freelancing for a junior role at World Geographic. Um, yes. I was over the moon about the opportunity, but I couldn’t help breathing a sigh of relief when Laurent got distracted by another acquaintance.
I thanked him and left to search for Alex, but I was interrupted again by a group of fellows who heard I’d already sold my entire collection and wanted to know who the buyer was. I told them I didn’t know, which was technically true.
That kept happening the entire evening. I’d end one conversation only to get drawn into another. I was grateful for all the people who wanted to connect and congratulate me, but dammit, Alex was the only person I wanted to talk to.
By the end of the night, I hadn’t caught a single glimpse of him since his performance. My feet hurt, my cheeks ached from constant smiling, and my stomach growled from the lack of food. I was always too nervous to eat at events.
Guests trickled out until I was one of only a handful of people left in the gallery, including the cleanup crew.
I couldn’t believe Alex would leave without a word after what he did, but there was no denying it—he wasn’t here.
“Hey, Ava.”
I perked up, but disappointment slammed into me a second later when I saw who the speaker was.
“Hey, Jack.” I fixed another smile on my face. “I thought you left.”
“Nah. Seems I’m a straggler, just like you.” His blue eyes twinkled. “You wanna grab a bite? I couldn’t eat a thing all night. Nerves,” he explained.
“I feel that.”
“Nerves? C’mon, you sold your entire collection. That’s incredible! Unheard of in WFP history.” Jack hugged me. “We should celebrate. Maybe with a proper dinner and drinks? Doesn’t have to be tonight if you’re too tired,” he added.
I blinked, sure I’d read his tone wrong. “Are you…asking me out?”
Jack had become a good friend over the past year, and I enjoyed hanging out with him. He wasn’t unattractive either, with his longish blond hair, Australian accent, and sun-kissed surfer vibes. But when I looked at him, my stomach didn’t flutter and my heart didn’t skip a beat.
Only one person in the world could make me feel that way, and he wasn’t here.
Jack blushed. “Yeah.” He flashed a sheepish smile. “I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while, but I didn’t want to make things awkward during the fellowship. Since the program is over now, I figured, why not? You’re beautiful, funny, talented, and we get along well.” He paused. “I think.”
“We do.” I placed a hand on his arm. “You’re one of my closest friends here, and I’m so glad I met you. You’re a great guy—”
“Ouch.” Jack winced. “I feel like that’s not a good thing when used in this context.”
I laughed. “No, trust me, it’s a good thing. You’re cute and funny and talented too, and any girl would be lucky to date you.”
“I sense a but coming,” he said wryly.