Page 38 of Back to Me

“That’s great.” I swallow back my disgust and dislike for Allison.

“Wait, didn’t you say your friend Sara was her assistant?” he asks, furrowing his eyebrows in curiosity.

I hitch my thumb over my shoulder. “Yes, she’s there tonight, actually. I just came down to take a look at Allison’s work myself.”

“Did you see anything you liked?” he asks. His mouth curls into a smirk, and a tingling sensation prickles along the back of my neck.

Ignoring it, I scrunch my nose and shake my head. “No, not really.” I hold back the part where I think Allison’s art is complete and utter shit.

Mr. Price laughs, but I feel like there’s more behind it. There’s a bitterness hidden beneath the humor.

“By the way,” I say. “Did you get a chance to take a look at the pieces I’ve sent you so far? Two of them were collaborative pieces.” My pulse quickens, hoping he approves of them.

“I did,” he nods. “I think they’ll be perfect. Just the vision I had in mind.”

“Great.” Sighing with relief, I shove my hands back into my pockets. “I finished another one today, so I’ll be sending it to you tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.” He begins walking past me, in the opposite direction. Turning around, I watch as he walks away from me backward. With a smirk, he adds, “I look forward to seeing more of your and Sara’s work, Graham. Keep it up.”

“Thank you, sir.” Despite the overwhelming sickness in my gut, I push it aside and let the warmth of my growing success overtake me. I finally feel like I made the right move by focusing on my art.

When I get home, I relax on the couch, deciding to watch TV. Usually hiding up in my loft working, I never set aside time to watch TV and make use of the living room. If there’s one thing Sara and I have in common, other than our love for art, its binge-watching shows on Netflix.

Settling on a cooking show, I sit back on the couch, resting my feet on the large ottoman situated in the center of the room. An hour later, Sara texts me to let me know she’s on her way home. Sinking farther into the couch, the second episode has just finished when Sara walks through the front door.

Facing me, she stands in front of the door, her eyes turned down with sadness and exhaustion. An ‘I’m sorry.’ are the first words out of her mouth.

Lifting my hand, I stick one finger out to her and curl it in, motioning for her to join me on the couch, narrowing my eyes.

“Come here.”

I’m not even remotely upset about what happened at the gallery with Allison. If anything, I’m more embarrassed for putting Sara in such an awkward position.

After lazily removing her heels, she saunters over to me, her shoulders hunched over. Without a word, she crawls onto the couch and rests her head on my lap, lying on her stomach.

Running my fingers through her hair, I push it aside and tuck it behind her ear, revealing her long, diamond drop earrings. We sit together in silence for another episode. Turning her head, she looks up at me and releases a heavy, tired sigh.

“Graham?”

My fingers drape across the smooth skin of her cheek. “What is it?”

“Should I quit my job?”

My hand stops at the bottom of her neck, feeling her rapid pulse beneath the pads of my fingertips. I hold my breath, searching her green eyes for any sign how she’s feeling.

“Why would you want to quit?” I swallow back the swelling in my throat.

Raising her hands, she runs them down her face, groaning. Her eyes land on mine.

“You heard the way Allison talked to me earlier. I don’t know how much more I can take.”

“Does she talk to you like that all the time? Or was it only tonight?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“All the time,” she sighs. “I don’t know. It’s like I annoy her more than anything. She acts as if I’m this insignificant person, and I feel like she doesn’t even consider me an artist. She refuses to mentor me or show any of my pieces. I’m worried if I continue this job, I won’t get anywhere in my career. I feel like, in a way, she’s holding me back.”

“Well,” I shrug. “If she makes you feel that way, maybe it’s best if you quit.”

“But.” She hesitates, and I can see her internal struggle. I wish I could do more for her, somehow take away her stress, but the only thing I can do is hold her and tell her everything will be okay.

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