Page 96 of Student Seduction
He moved from me to my sculpture without answering my inquiry.
“James will be delighted to know you said he was handsome,” I offered to fill the awkward silence. “But he’s Drew’s husband, not mine.”
Aiden’s mouth quirked into a boyish grin. “This is really something,” he began. “I don’t know all the fancy art terms to describe it but when I look at it, I feel it in my chest. I would’ve known it belonged to you even if no one told me.”
My tummy turned another loop. His words said a lot more than any fancy art terms ever could.
“Thank you.” I watched as he read the inscriptions on each pedestal. Quotes from the final letter from my mother I’d imposed into the columns.
It was then that I noticed the slight drag in his gait. I moved to stand beside him. “I’m sorry about your knee.”
The NHL had been his dream, and he’d made it. Briefly. I couldn’t imagine how I’d feel if I woke up tomorrow and couldn’t use my hands anymore to do what I loved.
“It’s okay,” he said quietly. “And thank you.”
All of the overt politeness was killing me. It felt so forced. So not us. But then, we weren’t us anymore. I had to keep reminding myself. Time had passed. Everything had changed.
So why did it feel like nothing had?
He was quiet for a moment, still reading. He stood before the hollowed out figure I’d sculpted.
“It was a wild ride at first. Literally a dream come true. But then…”
With bated breath, I waited for him to finish.
His blue eyes collided with mine. “Something was always missing.”
My heart seized in my chest as if he’d gripped it with his fist.
I nodded, understanding exactly what he meant.
I’d invited him tonight because I didn’t want to have this night without him. I’d needed him here for it to feel complete—even if it meant suffering.
Seeing him now was like stepping into a dream I’d been having for years. The one where he was real enough touch. I didn’t want to wake up tomorrow and him be gone again.
“Aiden,” I began, uncertain of what was about to come out of my mouth. “I wanted to—”
“Emersyn,” Claire St. John interrupted, appearing at the worst possible moment. “I need to introduce you to Lyle Ascott.” She gestured to a man around her age, mid-forties if I had to guess, that she’d brought over with her. We shook hands. “Lyle is the owner of the Dufresne Gallery in Manhattan. He’s considering purchasing your piece tonight and wanted to see about possibly showing it with some more of your work in the Spring.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Ascott,” I said.
“Lyle, please. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” His eyes skimmed appreciatively over me. “My, I didn’t expect you to be so young.”
“Been there,” Aiden mumbled only loud enough for me to hear. I stifled a giggle.
“Claire, Lyle,” I said while turning to include him, “this is Aiden Singleton. He’s a, um, friend of mine from back home and we were just catching up.”
They greeted him politely. Claire spotted someone she had to speak to and left the three of us alone.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt your reunion,” Lyle said. “Here’s my card.” He handed me a marble printed business card that felt like satin in my hand. “Contact me when you’re free and we can talk more about the spring showcase.”
My own showcase? I had to work my voice out of my throat to thank him as I placed his card in my clutch.
Once he was gone, Aiden looked uneasy. I moved close enough to tough him.
“What’s wrong?”
He adjusted the collar of his shirt. “I don’t want to hijack your big night, Emersyn. That guy wanted to buy this. And probably a lot more of your work. I should get out of the way so you can mingle, or network, or whatever you need to do.”
