Page 28 of A Virgo's Muse
“He got you blushing,” I teased. “That man’s a menace, but you bring out his soft side.”
“Well, he brings out my loud side, so we’re even.”
We both laughed. For a second, the world outside the jewelry store didn’t exist. It was just two people with scars finding light in each other.
The associate returned with the ring box and receipt. I handed over my card without hesitation, heart beating a little different now.
As we stepped outside, I looked up at the sky like it was holding something sacred.
“Two months ago, I saw her for the first time at Angel’s Secret,” I said. “She had that black silk dress that had that slit showing off her smooth leg and thatleave me aloneface on. I damn near forgot how to speak.”
“And now you’re about to marry her.” Sade smiled. “That’s wild.”
I held the ring box in my palm and said, “I’m gonna do this right. I already got the perfect day planned.”
Sade bumped her shoulder into mine. “Good. ’Cause Virgo hearts don’t open often. When they do? You protect that shit with everything.”
I nodded slowly. “Trust me. I plan to.”
Tonight was the night.Every stroke, every brush, every canvas covered in the story of my healing was about to be seen and not just by strangers but by people who mattered… my people… him.
Onyx stood behind me in the mirror, helping fasten the back of my dress. His fingers were steady, gentle, but his eyes were watching me in that way he always did like I was the only thing in the room worth noticing.
“You nervous?” he asked, lips brushing the shell of my ear.
“A little,” I admitted, smoothing down my olive-green gown. “I haven’t shown anything this personal before.”
He looked down at me, expression soft. “It’s already beautiful. ’Cause it’s yours.”
That man had a way of making me melt and believe in the same breath.
When we arrived at the gallery, the air shifted. Friends, supporters, and collectors milled around, sipping wine and admiring the previews of other artists. I slipped into my hosting mode, greeting, smiling, and thanking everyone. And Onyx, always being able to be adaptable, did the same in his own way. People gravitated to him. It was his energy—calm but commanding.
The gallery buzzed with soft chatter and clinking glasses, but all I could hear was my heartbeat.
We drifted apart for a while, each of us floating in and out of conversations and handshakes. I could feel his eyes on me, though, even across the room like some invisible tether.
Then the host tapped the mic and called for attention. It was time. I walked to the center of the gallery, where five of my pieces were covered in black satin drapes. The mic felt cold in my hands, but the second I spoke, I found my rhythm.
“Hello, everyone,” I began, scanning the room filled with familiar and unfamiliar faces. “My name is Desire Howard, and I ownMy Desires,which is an art studio. A lot of you have seen my artwork, bought it, sat in one of my classes, or even watched me live as I painted. Some of you know me by name, some only by brushstrokes, and others have taken classes and made a personal connection with me.”
I took a deep breath, grounding myself in truth.
“After my childhood home burned down, I lost everything, including my very first pieces of art. It wasn’t just paint and canvas. It was me. And when that burned, I lost my spark. I couldn’t paint. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to teach. I didn’t even want to feel.”
A hushed tone blanketed the room.
“These new pieces mean the world to me. Over the last few months, someone walked into my life unexpectedly and shook everything up. Not in a stormy way,” I said, chuckling, “but in the way that forces a flower to bloom after a long winter.”
My eyes found Onyx across the room, and even in a crowd, he made me feel like we were the only two standing.
“This person saw me… truly saw me. Not the strong version I present, not the teacher or the brand, but the woman underneath all of that—raw, imperfect, guarded. And he didn’t flinch.”
A few soft smiles spread through the crowd as well as a few nods.
“I call this collectionA Virgo’s Musebecause it’s about finding balance between logic and chaos, between silence and noise, between control and surrender. It’s about him.”
I smiled through the tremble in my throat.
