Page 86 of Painted Dreams
“Kat, you have a sense of entitlement. Sometimes you have to–”
“You know what? I think it would be best if you head back to Colorado or HBTV or wherever.” She raised her hands, palms flat, as if to push him away. “I can’t listen to this anymore.”
Nick hesitated, torn between wanting to shake her and wanting to pull her into his arms and apologize.
“Also, gallery weekend is off so there’s no reason for you to be here.”
“Kat.” He took a step toward her.
“Don’t.” She shook her head and stepped back. “Just go. I need some space.”
What she needed was an attitude adjustment. But he’d give her the space. Turning, he headed to the bedroom to gather his things. He had some serious soul-searching to do.
ChapterTwenty-One
“Comeon.” Muttering to herself, Kat yanked a small portion of the packing materials from a four-by-three painting. She’d decided to send one of the mountain scenes with colorful wildflowers to the Denver Art Museum. As Nick had told her, the mountains would appeal to Colorado customers.
After confirming it was the right piece, Kat tugged the wrapping back into place and covered it with tape. She’d just finished when a knock sounded at the door. A man from the shipping service greeted her.
“Looking for Katlyn Andrews. That you?”
“Yes, here’s the shipping label.” She propped open the studio door then ushered him to the painting. “It gets another box or crate, right?” She didn’t want it to arrive in Denver damaged.
“Yes, ma’am.”
From the corner of her eye, Kat saw Mia slip inside the room. As her friend scooted behind the delivery man, Kat sucked in her breath and wondered how many others would show today. This was her first time back in the studio since the gallery disaster. Since Nick walked out. Since her life imploded.
Kat watched the man carefully load the painting then shut the door as a lump formed in her throat. It felt as if she’d let one of her babies down. She could only hope it brought a good sum for the museum and found a nice home.
As soon as the doors clicked shut, Mia sidled up beside Kat and drew her into a hug. “Hey, girlfriend. How are you?”
“Fine.”
Mia’s brows rose. “You mean that or just faking it ’til you make it?”
Kat gave a tired shrug. “I’m getting there.”
“And is that certain someone still not to be mentioned?”
“Absolutely.” She didn’t want to talk about Nick. Talking about him was like picking at a scab. The wound would never heal if she couldn’t leave it alone. And the truth was, his absence had left a gaping hole in her heart. She could hardly say his name without blubbering in a twisted mix of anger and disappointment. That he’d delivered a gut punch when she was already so down? She still couldn’t believe it.
Mia squeezed her arm. “Ready to do some painting?”
“I might sketch out some new ideas today.” Kat couldn’t help a glance toward her surplus. Until they sold, what was the point of doing more of the same?
The door opened again, and two co-renters burst into the room, chatting and laughing. When they spotted Kat, they squealed and rushed to her side. “Hey, sweetie. So good to see you.”
Kat forced a smile. “Thanks, guys. Good to be here.” She held up a sharp, new graphite pencil. “Hope my muse shows up today.” She hoped muscle memory would set in as well because both her enthusiasm and confidence had taken big hits.
Instead of working at her easel, Kat settled into one of the large stuffed chairs. It was one of a few pieces of mismatched furniture, mostly abandoned by former roommates, that had made its way to the studio. She glanced around the room, inhaling the scent of coffee mixed with paints and thinner. And Nick’s words haunted her again. Okay, so she was fortunate to have this space, but it wasn’t decked out in gleaming lights, new workstations, or fancy furniture. It was cold and drafty, made of bricks and concrete. Some of the work surfaces were made of leftover plywood or old doors on sawhorses.
And everyone who joined the group worked hard. With that in mind, she leafed through an envelope of photos she kept for inspiration. Determined to be productive, she pulled her sketchbook onto her lap. She’d filled several pages and lost track of the time when Mia stopped by and peeked over her shoulder.
“Aaah…sunflowers. Very nice. Moving from Colorado to Kansas, I see.”
“Something fresh and new.” Then an idea popped into her head. “Maybe I’ll do a series of state flowers.”
“Sounds good to me. This one is cool.” Leaning over, Mia ran a hand along a bouncing row of sunflowers on the paper. “Has a more graphic look. Actually, that would make an awesome scarf.” She nudged Kat’s arm. “Want to paint one for me? Here’s an idea…start your own line of hand painted scarves. I love that poppy one you wear.”
