Page 35 of Lessons in Desire

I roll my eyes. “Oh, just admiring the scenery.”

The area is wonderful, a gallery hidden in the woods. I was worried at first, when he showed me, that it would fail because of the seclusion but Asher is renowned in the art world for being a bloodhound for new talent. He can smell it a mile away and people trust his opinions. So, it didn’t take long for the RSPV’s to come in after sending them, people coming from all over the country, even the world.

It's what he loves. Which is the only reason I let him quit his job, after he convinced me that he didn’t care for teaching. He only cared for the art, and me, of course.

“So, you’re not just trying to hide from all the people gushing over your work.”

I try to not bite, to ignore the bait, but I can’t help it. “Do they like them? Are they being received well?” I plead for the answer.

“Let me show you.” His hand is warm against the small of my back as he leads me through a throng of people, smiling kindly at those who greet him. And there, hidden behind a sea of people, is my work. I slip silently among the few people milling about my work and a sense of pride warms my insides. Everything I’ve ever wanted is sliding into place.

“I’ve had more than just a few asking about you, begging for your details.” His mouth hovers near my ear, his breath skating down my skin and sending a pleasurable shiver shuddering through me. “They’re hungry for what you create.”

“There you are!” A loud voice booms and I’m smiling before I even see my father. He looks great, better than I’ve ever seen him. After Asher put him up in rehab, he stayed for a year in the facility before moving into a small house a ten-minute drive away from Asher and me. By the side of him is Bree and Abel who smile and wave.

“Dad! Bree, Abel!” I say before moving towards them, hugging my father tightly before doing the same to Bree and her boyfriend. “My exam was delayed. I’ve only just arrived.”

My dad looks at my work as Bree moves to the side to talk to Asher, giving us privacy.

“I’m so proud of you, honey.”

I feel that familiar jolt at the words, my body still unused to the new stability of his moods but I squeeze his wrinkled hands, smiling. “And I am so proud of you.”

I didn’t ever think I’d get this. It’s been strange; getting to know who my father is without the narcotics. Like meeting someone for the first time yet knowing their face, their mannerisms. Before, my father was a shell of a man, but now he is flesh and bones with a smile that never stops. He is a lover of jazz and a man who sings songs from a childhood he won’t speak of.

He is a mystery I hope will unfold with time.

I smile, thinking on the man he will be. “Things have changed so much in the last two years.” I shake my head. “Anyway, today is about celebrating the future, not dwelling on the past.”

“I agree. To my daughter the artist!” He lifts his diet coke and cheers, and the patrons cheer back, laughter floating in the wind. I giggle and Asher steps behind me, smiling to my father. Things between them are still tense – my father guilts, my boyfriend angry, but every day a new line between them is smoothed over.

I settle against him and fall into my art.

The auction was a success. Every piece of work in my collection was sold for a respectable price, one that will just get higher with every collection, or so Asher says. Though my imposter syndrome is telling me that he’s lying. Hopefully, the confidence will come with time.

I’m sitting cross legged in front of my collection, the shiny sold signs looking down on me. I hear Asher’s footsteps echo across the marble floor before he stands beside me, hands in his pockets.

“How do you feel?” He asks.

“Like this isn’t real.”

He chuckles. “Don’t worry, it will pass.” He kneels down in front of me, holding out his hand. “I have one more surprise to show you.”

I raise my brows surprised. “You do?”

He nods and I take his hand, allowing him to pull me up. He nods to the security guards, telling them to lock up and bundles me in his car.

“Where are we going?”

He grins. “It’s a surprise.”

We drive in the dark for half an hour, heading closer to town and CSU before he eventually turns down a driveway hidden by a bend in the trees. It’s a long, long driveway lined by the forest it’s situated in which eventually opens to a beautiful gothic cottage. I gasp at the sight of it.

It's beautiful.

Ivy climbs up the walls of the old stone building, built with echoes of the past, the bevelled windows shining through. Every part of the cottage is intricately made, arching, and built to blend with the wildness of the forest.

“What is this place?” I whisper.

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