“Let’s walk around the gallery one more time,” I suggest. “I want to really make sure this is the piece that I want.”
“Don’t you ever do anything impulsive, Birdy?” His tone is soft. Almost suggestive.
“No. Not really.”
“You should try it sometime.”
“Why?”
“Sometimes, doing something without thinking can be liberating.”
I don’t know what it’s like, to be liberated. To feel free. It’s a foreign concept. I’m told what to do, where to do it, and when I should. My entire life, I’ve been completely controlled.
“Art makes me feel free,” I tell him.
He tilts his head. “What do you mean?”
“It’s hard to explain.” My gaze returns yet again to the painting. “Looking at this makes me feel like I could be a different person. Like maybe I’m the girl lying on the floor, wishing her cat would come closer so she could pet her.”
Crew chuckles. “You think that’s the message the artist is trying to convey?”
“I don’t know what she’s trying to say, but that’s what I see. Frustration. She just wants to be loved. Isn’t that what we all want?” I glance over at him.
He says nothing, but the look on his face speaks volumes.
“We all have different reactions to art,” I continue. “That’s what makes it so wonderful. It’s not just one thing. It’s so many things. A million ideas and thoughts and visions.”
Crew stares, his gaze appreciative, his voice low and rough when he speaks. “I love how passionate you are about art. And beauty.”
I blink at him, surprised by his compliment. “I like pretty things.”
“So do I.” His gaze sweeps over me, as if he’s really taking me in for the first time. “Speaking of pretty things, I like your outfit.”
When his eyes linger on my chest, I don’t even mind. “Thank you.”
“Not what you usually wear.”
I lift my chin. “You only ever see me in a uniform.”
“True.”
“I am trying something different though.”
“I like it.” His smile is small. “Buy the painting.”
I don’t even think when I answer him. “Okay.”
His smile grows. “And after you buy the painting, we can go to lunch.”
“You want to go to lunch with me?” I’m frowning. If we do this, if I go with him, it could change the dynamic between us.
It could change my entire life.
“Yes. Do you want to go to lunch with me?”
My nod is slow, my heart beating heavily. “Yes,” I whisper.
“What do you think of the exhibit, Miss Beaumont?”
The spell broken by the gallery assistant, both Crew and I turn to find Kirstin standing in front of us with a smile on her face.
“It’s wonderful,” I tell her. “I’m having a hard time deciding which piece I want.”
“Oh, so you’ll definitely be making a purchase? I’m excited to see which one you choose.”
“She’s thinking about this one,” Crew says, indicating the painting we’re standing in front of.
Kirstin laughs. “It’s very striking, from her use of color to the name. I think the artist wanted to shock a little bit with this exhibit.”
“It’s the color,” I say, glancing over at the painting yet again. Realizing that Crew is watching me very carefully. It’s almost unnerving, how he’s staring at me. “I love the green.”
“It’s beautiful,” Kirstin says wistfully, her gaze now on the painting as well. I can see it in her eyes. She wishes she could own it. Own all of them. It’s why she’s working here. She’s most likely an art history major, a woman who wants to surround herself with art that speaks to her soul. Pretty things that make her feel like she’s going to burst.
I know the feeling.
“I’ll take it,” I say, and I can see the approval on Crew’s face with my choice.
“Wonderful. I’ll go write up the bill of sale,” Kirstin says before she turns away and heads for the front of the building.
“Great choice,” Crew says after she’s gone.
“Thank you. I do love it.” I stare at the painting—my painting—my chest growing tighter the longer I look at it. “I don’t know where I’m going to hang it though.”
“At your house?”
“I suppose. I just don’t want it in my parents’ collection. This one is mine.” My gaze finds Crew’s once more. “All mine.”