Page 61 of Stuck with the Grump

Tyson ended the call without so much as a goodbye.

“Fuck,” I groaned and got to my feet, pacing across the room. Tyson was right, I needed to reach out and take what I wanted. I was Clarke fucking Wesley and if I wanted something, I made it mine. Even if loving Leigh was terrifying. Even if it pushed me out of my comfort zone and it made me question the way I thought my life was going to go.

There had been a time when I thought I would marry a woman who ran in my circle, someone else who also didn’t have time for a relationship. We would have a kid or two but there would likely be a divorce once one person started wanting more than the other person could give. We would have gone our separate ways but remained amicable for the children. When the children were grown, I would spend the rest of my life working remotely until I grew too tired to work.

That had been my life plan, until Leigh.

She had brought me out of the shell I had burrowed myself in for so long. Leigh had been the one to bring laughter and relaxation back into my life. She had made me see that there were things in life worth living for beyond making money and turning profits.

Several days was all it took for her to come into my life, spin it around, turn it upside down, and waltz back out.

I phoned Camille and told her my plans. She suggested a decoy car as a distraction, so I could show up without the media swarming me. I wasn’t ready to face the news reporters angling for any information they could about the upcoming case. And it would confirm Leigh’s worst nightmare of being harassed at her grand opening

We hung up and I got dressed before racing to my closet and pulling out a suitcase. Clothing was strewn across the room as I stuffed some in the little suitcase, tossing in toiletries on top. I wasn’t sure if I would have time to go to my own home when I got back to the city, so whatever I could keep in the suitcase would have to do. Seeing Leigh was the only thing that mattered.

It couldn’t be too late. I wouldn’t let it be too late.

The game had been changed when Leigh entered my life.

I wasn’t about to let her change it again by walking out.

29

LEIGH

Theblackdresshungoff my shoulders, the V-neck cut low with a slit raising high on my thigh while the hem fell to the floor. Camille had spent the better part of the afternoon weaving my hair into an artful array of messy braids pinned to my head. She had worked her magic with my makeup, transforming me into someone I barely even recognized for the night.

We had arrived at the gallery long before anyone else. Tyson had already been waiting outside when Camille and I arrived.

“You both look amazing,” Tyson said, pulling me into a tight hug. “Congratulations, Leigh. This is outstanding.”

“Want to go inside and get the first look at it fully finished?” I asked, pulling the key to the building from my pocket.

When I opened the doors, there was a moment when I couldn’t believe that this was my reality. I had created this gallery. I had built it from the ground up. Endless days and weeks had been spent dreaming about this moment and now, it was finally here.

Dozens of calls had been made and thousands of dollars spent. There were nights I had spent crying over a glass of wine and a package of cookies because I didn’t think that this would ever happen for me. Camille had been there for more than one of those cookie binges, laughing and crying right along with me.

“This is incredible,” Camille said, staring in awe at the fairy lights that hung behind the gauzy white fabric hanging from the ceiling. “I knew you would make it look stunning in here, but I never thought that it would look this amazing. I don’t know how you did it.”

“I’m so proud of you,” Tyson said, hugging me again. I could see the tears glistening in his eyes as he looked down at me. “You did it, Leigh. Holy shit, you did it.”

“I wouldn’t have gotten here without you guys,” I said, looping Camille into the hug. She wrapped her arms around me, laughing and blinking rapidly.

“Don’t make me mess up my makeup,” Camille said, running a finger gently beneath her eyes as our group hug broke apart. “I can’t believe that you’ve managed to accomplish all this. When Clarke called me and started telling me about your plans, I had no idea that they would ever come this far.”

“It is incredible,” I said, taking a deep breath as the doors opened and the caterers stepped inside. “Looks like it’s show time.”

Within half an hour, the gallery was filled with people. My mom and dad were walking around the room, stopping to talk about every piece. Several of the little plaques beneath the paintings had been marked with a red dot sticker. I grinned as I counted the sales, knowing that tonight I was changing lives and bringing art to others. It was all that I had ever wanted.

Each time the door opened, and people hurried inside out of the snow that was beginning to fall, I looked over the crowd and searched for his face. Each time that damn door opened, I looked for him. I hoped that it would be him.

It was never him.

I forced myself not to care. This was the end. I had left him a ticket and he hadn’t come. He had stormed out on me, and I should have reached out before now. Both of us were doing things to send whatever spark was between us straight to the ground.

“You need to stop worrying so much,” Tyson said, handing me a glass of champagne. “If he doesn’t show up tonight, then it’s his loss. He knows that the ticket is here and waiting for him.”

“How does he know? I didn’t tell him.” I probably should have but every time I tried to pick up the phone and call him, I put it back down again and tried to pretend that there wasn’t a panic attack threatening to take over.

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