Page 82 of In the Dust

He looks at me with a smile, his hand traveling to the long slit on my dress to skim his fingertips over my thigh. He’s been staring at it all night, just waiting to get me back into bed. “But it’s date night,” he teases.

“You’re insatiable.” I grin. “I can’t be this close without saying hey. She would kill me!”

He nods in agreement. “Okay, but we’ll make it quick, right?”

I nearly bounce in my heels as we stroll down the street, “Promise!”

It isn’t long before we’re walking into the studio. Her big show is happening, and people are dotted around the room like statues, staring at the impressive artwork that’s hanging on the walls.

I slow Colton’s pace; I know he wants to walk around really quick and get home even quicker, but I want to show him how to appreciate it. A waiter comes by, carrying around a tray of flutes filled with wine. I pluck two from the tray, handing one to Colton.

“See this one?” I nudge my head forward, taking a sip of the bitter red from the glass. “It’s a representation of love.” I describe the painting simply, from the way I see it. There’s a hue of green swiped over the bottom, with two lovers lying on the lush lawn.

“It looks like they’re sleeping,” Colton whispers, pointing to where their hands are intertwined.

A small laugh escapes me. “Maybe they are.” I place my hand inside his, always the perfect fit.

We casually walk around while looking for Gina. “There she is.” Colton, who towers over the crowd, nudges his head forward. I let him guide me, because even in five-inch heels I can’t see a thing.

We sift through a crowded area, and my eyes catch sight of hers. When she moves, I nearly fall to my knees.

“They’re …” I attempt to inhale, but suddenly the room is devoid of oxygen. “They’re okay.”

Colton gives me a look, and from that simple gleam in his eyes I know this was why we came here all along. New York had a purpose, and this was it.

Gina gathers her crowd. “If you head towards the main lobby, we’re serving tapas.”

The majority of the people disperse at the mention of free food, and while a few dot the room, it gives me a better vantage point of my mother’s painting that’s impossibly hanging on the wall.

Tears trickle down my cheeks as I step up to it, nearly feeling that if I move too quickly, it’ll disappear. A flash goes off beside me, but I can’t pay attention to anything else.

I can’t seem to look away as I trace the outlines of my face, as if I’m looking in a mirror but only the best version of myself. The smooth lines and curve of my nose that only a mother could paint.

Colton rubs his hand on my back. “Burl told me to let it be a surprise, so please don’t kill me for not telling you.”

I’m speechless as Gina wraps her arms around me. “Everyone loves the paintings.”

“Paintings?” I look away for the first time, panning my eyes to G’s face. That’s when I see the other painting hung right next to my mothers. Mine.

The boundless swirls of her chestnut curls. The freckles that I perfectly distributed across her face. Her honey-brown eyes pop vivaciously against the blue background.

“Thank you, Gina,” I whisper.

From the moment I saw the flames devouring the studio, I kicked myself in the ass for not giving mom’s painting to her. It was a regret I thought I would carry for the rest of my life. Gina plucks the empty glass from my hand and kisses my cheek. “I wish I could take credit, but it was all him.”

She brushes past Colton to tend to her guests. I look up to Colton with a quivering lip, thankful the room is mostly empty now. “I thought they were gone forever.”

He nods. “I wanted to tell you the moment the fire happened, but they weren’t here yet. I shipped them overnight, and I was so terrified they got lost in the mail. I didn’t want to give you any hope.”

“What were you going to say if I walked in the shed and they were gone?”

He shrugs. “Before the fire, I was going to tell you about New York and the gallery, but after … I couldn't.” A smile lights up his face. “And Burl told me you had to see it in person. That even if I told you, you wouldn't believe it. He said he wanted to see your face.”

So that’s what the flash was; he took a picture of me. “This is the best gift in the world.” My fingertips trace the rectangle under the paintings. The art now has a name. It’s titled ‘A Mother’s Love.’

“Can we take them home with us?” I ask, nerves creeping in.

Gina comes back, overhearing me. “I will personally bring them back to you, okay?”

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