Page 7 of If My Wishes Came True
“Holy shit,” she exclaims.
When I turn, her jaw is dropped. “Jenna…” she continues after a minute. “This is incredible!”
Overhearing her niece, Marie joins us. “I agree,” she tells me. “I’ve been watching you paint from the back of the classroom, because I didn’t want to interrupt your process—but your work is truly remarkable.”
“You’re much too kind,” I tell them with a dismissive wave of my hand. I don’t have a hard time accepting compliments from my interior design clients, but this feels different. As Vanessa and Marie stand to examine my work, it’s like they’re peering into my soul. It’s a little unnerving, to be honest.
“Your eyes are so expressive,” Vanessa says, still staring at my painting. “And see the juxtaposition with her mouth, Tati? She’s smiling, but there’s a wistful look in her eyes. It’s amazing, Jenna. I don’t know how you captured that!”
I grin, but my stomach clenches. I’m used to hiding under a bubbly exterior, but my portrait gives me away. I feel so vulnerable, so exposed…I may as well be standing here naked.
“You don’t see talent like this every day,” Marie agrees. “Are either of your parents artists?”
I shake my head. “Neither of them. I have no idea where this passion of mine came from.”
“Well, you should be very proud, Jenna,” Marie says, turning to me. “Youdoknow this is a beginner’s class, right?”
I exhale a laugh. “It’s been so long since I’ve painted, I wasn’t sure what to expect from myself.” The last time I picked up a paintbrush was for a required art class my senior year of high school. That was twelve years ago.
Marie gently squeezes my shoulder. “Expect greatness, Jenna,” she says before walking away.
I’m so touched, it takes everything I have not to burst into tears. I don’t think anyone I’ve known in my entire life has ever expected greatness from me.
I lift my hand to my heart and feel it crack open just a bit.
After class, Vanessa suggests we get a drink, so we walk to a nearby pub. I’m immediately at ease with her, which is rare for me. Yes, I was one of the most popular kids at Beachwood High, but I honestly always wondered why every girl there wanted to be my friend. Was it because I was head cheerleader and homecoming queen? They were always by my side for the good times—sneaking beers out of my parents’ basement refrigerator and partying with the varsity football players—but when I was laid up after an emergency appendectomy the weekend of our Valentine’s dance junior year, not a single soul came to visit me. I’d always suspected my friendships were superficial, but that confirmed it. It hurt worse than the actual recovery from my surgery.
Which is why sitting at the bar with Vanessa tonight feels so special. She seems like the type of person who, if she likes you, cuts past the small talk because she’s eager to connect on a deeper level. Half a beer in, we’re already chatting about our exes.
“Boy, do I have war stories,” she says with a shake of her head before taking a swig of her drink. “Tati Marie’s worried because I’m thirty-two, and she wants grandnieces and nephews,” she continues with a laugh. “She doesn’t have kids of her own, so she’s invested in this.”
“Is that whatyouwant?” I ask her.
She nods. “I do. And I was about to have it all, but…” She sighs deeply, her gaze fixed on mine. “I left my fiancé at the altar.”
I can see the pain in her eyes. The glint of gold is gone, replacedwith a deeper amber. “I’m so sorry, Vanessa. Did this happen recently?”
Her cheeks flush. “It’s been a little over three months,” she says.
“Are you okay?” I ask as her eyes start to glisten.
She bites her lip. “I will be. I just feel terrible for the way I left things with him.”
A tear rolls down her cheek, so I reach for a cocktail napkin and hand it to her. “Do you want to talk about it? I know we just met, so if you don’t feel comfortable?—”
“No, I do—feel comfortable,” Vanessa tells me. “It’s strange. I don’t normally click like this with other women right away.”
“Neither do I,” I confess.
I’m not even very close to my sister. Christy’s only two years younger than I am, but we have absolutely nothing in common. She’s the smart one in the family. Loves to read, just like our dad. She got her degree in English literature at Columbia, and now she’s a literary agent in Manhattan. It’s like Dad won the lottery with his second daughter, after discovering the first one was defective.
Vanessa smiles and takes another sip of beer before she begins. “Nico and I had this adorable meet-cute. I was sitting under a tree in Central Park, and he asked if he could share the shade with me. We got to talking, realized we had a lot in common, and became friends right away. I’d gone through the most brutal breakup, and I wasn’t interested in a relationship at the time. But Nico was single, too. And fine as hell. Eventually, our boundaries got blurred. One night we ended up sleeping together. And when you sleep with a friend, things canget....”
“Complicated,” I offer as she nods. “I know what you mean. I’ve been there, too.”
With Dex.
We were friends with benefits for about a year, while he and Sunny were broken up and she was engaged to someone else. But I don’t tell anyone I’ve slept with megastar Dex Oliver. I’m pretty private about my relationships as it is, and I don’t want to have to dodge uncomfortable questions about what he’s like in bed.
