Page 5 of Sawyer
His heart started galloping. He was going to have to do it again—paint—something he loved as much as he loathed. No, not loathed. What he felt was fear. Fear that he couldn’t come up with something original enough, and if that miracle happened, that he couldn’t paint like he wanted—withexcellence. Again and again. Because if he wanted to succeed, he would have to paint masterpieces—and a lot of them.
How was he going to do that when painting one was so hard?
Suddenly he couldn’t breathe, a panic attack looming.
Nanine smoothed his wild black curls from his forehead, as if sensing his distress. “You will paint with as much brilliance as you do everything else. Because your true greatness comes from inside this great heart of yours. No one could quote the philosophers the way you do without passion and deep understanding. I named you Fourth Course, a course that is filled with both subtlety and undeniable complexity, because you see and appreciate traditions most people do not.”
He could hear his inner critic scoff.You were named for the salad course!
Sawyer only clenched his eyes closed and leaned into her touch, wanting to believe her every word.
“But most of all, Sawyer, you must remember your heart. It gives you the key ingredients to any work of art, whether in the kitchen or on the canvas.”
Her brown eyes holding him, he could take a breath finally. He told himself he must remember this moment when the doubt came. Every philosopher or artist worth his salt spoke of moments of epiphany. That Nanine would be his eagle, his mountain, or his burning bush was not surprising. She had always spoken to the heart of him.
He gave in, took her hand, and kissed the back of it. “Thank you, Nanine.”
“It is nothing,” she said in that very French way of hers.
He knew the truth, as if it were a law of the universe: her words were everything. They would be his North Star in this scary, vulnerable territory he found himself in.
Nanine touched his cheek one last time before she glanced around the room at all of them, her Chanel Number 5perfume seeming to beckon them with its intoxicating soft, musky notes.
“We have all come a long way together, my loves, since you first came to me and the restaurant ten years ago.”
A hard ball of emotion lodged in his throat as tears formed in many of his roommates’ eyes. When he thought about how they could have lost her to her heart attack, his chest ached. She’d made them a family, and for that reason alone, he would feel indebted to her for the rest of his life.
“You have no idea how much I love and treasure all of you.” Her words were as soft as her loving gaze. “This review is but the truth in writing.”
Truth: that word again.
“There’s a lot of love in Nanine’s—from all of us,” Thea said, dabbing more tears.
Damn, even Sawyer was feeling the need to grab his handkerchief.
“Damn right,” Dean said, clearing his throat. “Madison would be upset she was missing all of this deep sharing.”
That had the desired effect. Everyone laughed.
“Now—” Dean pulled Sawyer out of the chair and gave him a brotherly hug. “Let’s go pick some spectacular champagne. On me.”
Nanine stayed him with a gentle hand. “No need. I have a few special bottles chilling for such a moment. Ah, but this has been a good day.”
Yes, it had been. Epic.
He vowed in that moment to wrestle his demons to have the famed art career he’d always wanted.
CHAPTER
TWO
Madison hated that she needed a moment.
But she so did.
Holy ever-loving hell! That review, and from their first night…
Industry people would know this was big. Which meant the Michelin people would take notice.
