Page 128 of Painting Celia

Kelsey was right.

It hurt like hell but hurting was feeling. She was better than this.

Celia reached out slowly and returned the touch.

“I took a risk,” she said slowly.

Kelsey squeezed her arm. “Aren’t you proud of yourself, Celia?”

It was close to something her mother would have asked. But, somehow, she wasn’t hearing that voice now.

Could she feel proud? “Not yet,” she admitted.

Kelsey smiled. “We’ll get you there.” She tilted her head, eyes shining. “Come lean on Andrew and Trevor and me. Let us help with your warehouse. No more hiding out here.”

•••

It took León a few more days of thought before he started to understand what his mother had told him.

It was hard to admit, but she was right about one thing. Celia had told him no, and he’d refused to allow it. No wonder she’d sent him away. He hadn’t given her a choice—he’d demanded she agree with him, all-or-nothing. But she did have a choice despite his best efforts, and she’d chosen nothing.

Could he change the way he thought?

He began walking again, but not as frantically. Sometimes he even rode the subway, staying on the move and not punishing his feet.

He knew that he would go talk with her. The possibility of getting her back was a heady thought, far better than facing a future with no art, no Celia. It surprised him how easily he slid from avoiding the topic to furiously debating different ways he could fix things.

How could he convince her if she was tired of being convinced?

He had to be a different person, somehow. Less pushy. Maybe, he might avoid painting her. At first. If he could just get her back, he could work on the rest.

He’d deleted the group chat after he left LA, but Andrew had texted a few times since. A new message popped up as he left the subway at 181st. Someone wanted to buy the blue painting. The amount being offered was more than he’d ever made.

Absolutely not. Never.

Then Andrew said Celia had agreed to hang it in her building and to help with the sale if he wouldn’t come. The opportunity was too sweet to pass up.

“Do you think she’d be there if I did come?” he ventured over text.

“I don’t know. There’s not a zero chance.”

León paused, wondering how exactly to word his next question. He typed it a few times, pausing and deleting.

“She’s fine, man.”

Ah.

“Think she’ll talk to me?”

“Don’t know. She’s super busy now.”

“Maybe she’s not as mad. Maybe I’m not as crazy.”

“Good luck proving that.”

“I’ll get a flight tomorrow.”

So. He was going back.

---