Page 146 of Painting Celia

Something was finally going to happen, good or bad.

Thirty

Celia took a healthy swig from the wine bottle, then rested her hands in her lap. She would remind León how emotional honesty was done.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do about tomorrow,” she said, finally answering his question. Faint thunder outside punctuated the tight admission. “Probably the power will come back on, the food will be fine, or it can be replaced. It’ll go as well as it can go.”

“Sure,” he agreed, reaching for the wine. Casual.

“This is only the first unexpected twist, the first of many things I can’t plan for. Construction has been the easy part, and it’s about to get real.”

He nodded as she took a deep breath.

The warmth from the tart, fruity wine hadn’t reached her hands yet. They pricked with cold. “I’m scared, León,” she said. “It could fail. I have no control, no power over what’s going to happen.”

He pursed his lips, setting the bottle on the glass with a dull clink. “You have some power,” he said.

She shook her head, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I can pay to have this place built, but the people, they’ll be unpredictable. I have to make rules, and not everyone will like them. What if someone is rude or a bully? Or worse?”

León’s solemn dark eyes never left hers, like on that first day when his gaze left her unable to speak. She could dig deeper now, but how deep?

“Whatever goes wrong,” she said, “and there will be something, it’ll be my fault. I’m in charge. I took that stupid money, and rather than do something useful, I gambled on this—this vanity project! A playground for myself to play patron in. Did I do it for them or for me?”

Her hand fluttered to her lips, trembling. Her stomach churned.

Hell. These were questions she hadn’t said aloud, even in her own head. Pretending to be generous, in control, then realizing it was all a farce? The pain was sharp and unexpected.

“Hey,” he said, stretching a hand near hers but carefully leaving a distance between them.

•••

Golden light had always turned her wide eyes that lovely gray-green. León wanted to drown in them.

His muscles ached with the strain of acting relaxed. He didn’t want to spook her or interrupt this emotional gift. Look at her, open and engaged and luminous.

“Starting something new is scary,” he agreed slowly. “Things can go wrong. You’ll just keep doing what you can. A lot of people don’t even do that much. You’re brave, and you try.”

She shook her head, a quiver in her lower lip. “Brave? I knew I could get this built and ready to open. I enjoyed it. But now what? What happens next?”

“Celia, that’s what’s brave,” he said. “You can be proud of this!” He swallowed as she looked down at her twining fingers. “I’m glad you didn’t settle for just helping me paint. This is more.”

A flash of silent lightning strobed in, capturing her still image in a frozen moment. Celia, listening.

“I was wrong about Incubadora being just a project,” he said. These words, he’d rehearsed late at night. “You invested yourself fully in something you believe in. It shows who you are.”

She closed her eyes. “Giving the cash straight to artists would have helped just as much. Instead, I built a place for myself. It’s so selfish.”

“You committed everything you have. How is that selfish?” he asked. “Your time, your money, even where you live! If they can’t be grateful to you for giving them literally everything you can….” He paused.

His mother’s words flooded through him, and he dropped his face into his hands.

“What?” Celia asked, her wary voice close.

Heat flushed slowly through him. Idiota. Slowly, he lowered his hands, finding her gaze on him, unwavering. Even the candlelight was still in the moment.

“That was me,” he said, his pulse a drumbeat in his head. “I did that. You gave me everything, and I asked for more. How could you feel like it was enough? I’m so sorry, Celia.”

She sat mute, giving away nothing. He could count his heartbeats, waiting for her to move. Then she reached carefully for the wine and took a slow drink. There, the slightest proud curve to her neck, finally a reaction.

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