Page 104 of Crash and Burn
Grant. I was tempted to reject the offer outright.
But after what Alana had said, maybe I could at least hear him out.
33
The gallery director led me to the entrance of a quiet room away from the rest of the crowd. Grant stepped out before I could enter.
"Thank you for coming," he said. "I wasn't sure you would."
"I wasn't sure I was going to either," I replied. “But I decided it was important to support your art.”
"I don't just mean today,” he said. "I mean here, right now. I'm so glad you came."
He cast a covert look through the door to the other room. There were at least three dozen people milling around and looking at his art.
“There’s something else I want you to see,” he told me. “I’m planning on bringing everyone in here before the end of the night. It’s the last showing.”
Grant waved for me to fully walk into the room. I saw one easel set up in the middle of the room with a sheet covering the canvas. Then I noticed the art on the walls.
It was me. A dozen photos of me. But they weren’t random shots. They were photos of me in my outfits. All the outfits I’d put together over the years, everything I’d re-purposed and everything I’d made from scratch.
Somehow Grant had put together an entire showing of my work.
They weren’t anything like his other photos. They weren’t masterpieces of art. They were quick, candid snaps taken on his camera phone.
But they showed off my designs perfectly.
“Did you notice Sheryl was here?” Grant asked.
I nodded, turning around in a circle, awed as I took in every photograph of me. Me and my own art.
“It’s not just her,” Grant said. “I invited all my contacts from the fashion world. There’s a lot of designers out there, a lot of brands looking to work with new artists.”
“You did this?” I asked. “For me?”
“I love you, Liz,” he said. “I want to support you. The way you’ve always supported me. I thought this was my best chance of showing you how much you mean to me.”
A lump formed in my throat.
Grant looked at the one easel in the middle of the room and put his hand on the sheet covering the canvas.
"Can I show you one more photo?" he asked.
"What is it?" I asked, curious despite myself.
Grant paused, then straightened his shoulders and tugged off the sheet.
It was a photo of us. Me and Grant. I remembered the day we'd taken it. He'd brought me up onto that rooftop and we'd sat for the picture just as the sun was beginning to rise. The city skyline was behind us, with twinkling stars fading as the horizon turned pink.
I remembered what he'd said to me.
Never feel like you have to sugar coat things with me. I want to hear everything, the good and the bad. I want to be there for you through all of it.
When we'd posed for the picture I'd looked into the camera. But Grant had looked down at me. There was a soft smile on his face as he gazed at me. And the look in his eyes...
We'd talked about love and affection that evening. He'd said that he thought the words were important. That they shouldn't be used lightly. And I'd wondered why he hadn't said them. I'd wondered what it meant that he hadn't yet told me he loved me.
But I could see it. I could see it in the way he looked at me, the affection and care and adoration and... love. There was love in that gaze as he stared down at me.
