Page 62 of A Small Town Spring

I try to be happy about that, since I know that’s the point of this whole endeavor—to make money for her, me, and the gallery, but there’s still a sting of sadness at having to let go of any of my paintings.

On the other hand, given the makeup of the people present, it’s likely I’ll be seeing a good number of the sold pieces on my friends’ walls, since they’re obviously the ones who purchased some of them.

Friends like Beck and Van, Van looking screen-star handsome in a gray suit with a white dress shirt unbuttoned past his collarbone.Beck’s wearing a suit, too, but his is dark blue with an orange shirt—the colors of Beck’s Cookie Counter.

“Congratulations,” Beck says.“The show looks really incredible.We’re so happy for you.”

“Thanks,” I say, hugging each of them in turn.“It’s so kind of you to come all this way.”

“Where’s Kingston?”Van asks.“I thought he’d be with you.”

“Be with me?Why would he be with me?”I say, suddenly feeling like a kid who’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.Van is one of Kingston’s best friends.What if he can see it all over my face that Kingston and I slept together?Does Kingston care if other people know?We’ve barely had a chance to talk, let alone discuss the terms of our new relationship.My gaze darts to the hallway that leads to the storage closet where our first kiss took place.

My cheeks feel hot, and I look at Van and Beck to find them both studying me with different kinds of smiles on their faces.Van’s smiling at me as though he knows something I don’t know.Beck’s smile looks as if he’s figured out a secret.Damn it.

“He’s meeting me here,” I say, because it’s obvious we’re not going to be able to keep this to ourselves even if we wanted to.

“Excellent,” Van says, while Beck says, “So happy for you.”

I can’t explain further, because Ivy’s throwing her arms around me.“You gorgeous bastard,” she says happily.“You did it.You really did it.I am so proud of you, babe.”

Beck and Van let us have some privacy, and I smile at my ex.“I was hoping you would be proud, but it’s okay if you want to be smug and say I told you so.”

“Well, I did.But you know what—I’m honestly so happy that you made this happen.The show looks fab, the buzz is off the charts positive, and you are making a big splash in the best kind of way.”

I grimace.“You say I made this happen, but I really didn’t.You did.Pete did.Fernanda did.All I had to do was paint the pictures, which I would have done, anyway.”

“Stop being self-deprecating and thinking it’s only your success if you do everything yourself.You know that’s not true.And yes, you painted these pictures, these stunningly beautiful, intensely gorgeous pictures.I quite like the one of me.”

“Do you?That’s good, because it’s yours.”

“What?Truly?”

“The gallery knows which ones aren’t for sale and that one is not for sale.It’s yours, if you want it.”

“I want it, babe, I want it.And I’d love to stay and celebrate your success more, but I have a date.”

I grin, nothing but happy for her.Well, maybe a single twinge of regret, but the rest of me—happy.“With whom?”

“A friend of a friend.But it’ll be our third date,” she says, looking radiant.

“Enjoy,” I say sincerely.

“Thanks.”She scans the growing crowd.“Where is Kingston?”

“He’ll be here,” I say, letting my joy show on my face on purpose this time.

She doesn’t miss it.“Oh, Toby.Again, I’m really happy for you.”She kisses my cheek and walks away.

I talk to a few more people, note the new dots on some of the paintings indicating they’re sold, take a glass of white from a tray of them in the corner.I’m about to call Kingston to see if he’s been held up when there’s a hubbub at the entrance.Fernanda crosses the room quickly and I look to see which critic or patron she’s greeting so effusively.The new arrivals are a woman I don’t recognize and a man I do.The wine glass slips in my hand, but I manage to retain my grip before it can fall to the floor.The man at the entrance of the gallery is Nathan Wheaton, London art scene darling and, incidentally, my father.

Thirty

Kingston

I don’t havetime to go home and change before heading to the gallery, but I always keep some emergency clothes and toiletries at the office.I spruce myself up before I grab a car to the gallery.I didn’t have time for dinner, either, but I plan to take Toby and our friends out for a celebratory meal after the festivities conclude.

I’m not hungry anyway, except to see Toby again.The day was interminably long, one meeting after another, when all my brain wanted to do was relive the sensation of Toby jerking me off using his own come as lube last night, or maybe the moment this morning when he kissed me in nothing but his underwear, his tongue making wicked promises in my mouth.

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