Page 44 of I Blame the Alcohol

Stella shoots me a look, “Don’t lie to me, Captain. I’m not an art expert by any means but even I can tell these are terrible.”

“I mean, they aren’t thatbad…”

Her glare has me laughing.

“You’re right, they’re terrible. How much did he pay for this one?” I point to a particularly ugly white canvas that has red arrows pointing in every direction.

Stella claps her hands, “I love this game. Guess.”

“Uh… five hundred?”

“Cody, nothing in this room is under ten grand. Up your guess.”

Ten grand?

My left eye starts to twitch as I do a quick calculation of the dozen or so art pieces scattered around the room.

“Uh… twelve grand?”

Stella smirks, “Fifty.”

“Grand?” Disbelief oozes through my tone as I stare at a picture of red arrows that costs more than my annual mortgage.

Holy shit.

She laughs and skips down the hall, making me break into a jog to catch up. We play this game for the next few minutes, Stella pointing at random art pieces and me failing spectacularly at guessing anywhere close to the right price.

We eventually reach the end of the hallway, coming to a stop in front of a photograph set in a simple black frame. It’s a picture of the Vancouver skyline, right along the edge of the marina. It’s the least extravagant piece we’ve seen tonight but it’s the only one hanging on this wall.

“You know the drill. How much?”

I take my time, calculating the average of the other pieces and considering the simple elegance this one has that all the others lacked.

“Two hundred and fifty.” It’s on the lower end of the average, but there’s something authentic about this one that screams quality.

“Zero.” Stella responds after a pause, making me thing she’s joking.

“You mean how many zeros?”

“No, I mean it didn’t cost anything.” She pauses again, studying the one and only piece I could afford in this entire room.

“My mother took the photograph. On their first date.” The corners of Stella’s mouth tug up in a sad smile, “She had it framed as a wedding gift.”

Raising her hand, Stella lightly traces over the blurred corner at the bottom, “That’s my father’s shoulder. The story goes, he went in for the goodnight kiss but ended up missing because my mother was too caught up trying to take the photo.”

She laughs softly, “My mother used to say she fell in love twice that night, first with the city and then with my father.”

“Was he different back then?”

I step closer, my feet sinking soundlessly into the plush carpet. Stella turns so we’re chest-to-chest, tilting her head to look at me. Her hair hangs loose around her face, the braid from earlier leaving the strands soft and wavy.

My chest constricts as I take in the delicate lashes framing her dark blue eyes.

Her mother's photograph isn't the only priceless thing in this room.

Stella sighs, “In a way. My mother brought out a different side of him. Not softer but… less harsh, I guess? He never stopped smiling around her. Even when they were arguing, my father would get this smile on his face, one that seemed to say he has never been happier.”

She smiles sheepishly, “That probably sounds dumb.”

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