Page 104 of More Than I Can Bear

“Because everyone loves your work.” I turned around to find Jack standing beside me, swirling a glass of wine in her hand. She smirked then, the elegant PR maven shoved aside to let my friend through. “Of course they fucking do, which I told you—”

“Dude, you are not gonna ‘I told you so’ me on the night of my first gallery opening,” I replied with a grin.

“Yeah, I am. Look at them, Freya.”

We turned around together and surveyed the gallery. People were staring at paintings, picking up shoes and holding them against themselves to see how they’d look. I saw the gleam in people’s eyes, of the kind of excitement that comes from finding artwork that speaks to you. Honestly I’d felt like I was never going to experience that.

My work was too weird, I’d decided, only able to be appreciated by other strange little weirdos. So, now, to find out there were a whole lot more weirdos out there than I expected…? I let out a long sigh, my heart aching in my chest, not from pain but from pleasure. It seemed to happen all too often lately. I felt a kind of gratitude so intensely sweet it took my breath away and that’s what had my eyes pricking. I raised a shaking hand and tried to low-key brush at my eyes, but Jack caught me at it.

“Freya…”

Her voice was low and full of concern and she instantly spun around, blocking the sight of me from the rest of the room. She bent down and inspected my face. “Are you OK? Do you want me to grab the guys? Did they do something?”

“No, they…” My throat closed over and the rush of emotion just hit me harder. I didn’t cry, ever. I’d once had a particularly bitchy male painting lecturer take me out into the hallway and call into question my presence in the program, let alone my future as an artist. If I could survive that, I could certainly get through this. But her suggestion that the guys were at fault just made things worse.

Because Kaine was there as soon as someone seemed keen on buying something, so that Cress was often cut off before she could get to a customer, because he was on it. He directed them to the stock of shoes we had in the backroom or talked about the various merits of the paintings, seeming to know that once he got them talking, he could make a sale.

Adam was greeting people like they were long lost friends and, like always, that’s the way they treated him. He was my hype guy, gesticulating wildly as he told them what he loved about each work as they smiled and gave their own input.

And River? He found the quieter lurker types, sidling up and sharing the same space as them before asking a few discreet questions, making sure they knew where to get assistance before disappearing. Every single one of them had worked like a dog to help me get this exhibition off the ground and they weren’t content to drink wine and nibble on cheese and crackers now. They wouldn’t rest until it was a success.

“They’re perfect…” I finally ground out. “It’s all perfect, every single thing.”

“And you deserve that.” She forced my eyes to meet hers. “I don’t know where you get the idea you don’t. Alby and Floss, they’re nice people. Justin needs a kick in the mangina most days, but no one brought you up to think you aren’t worthy of this. Somehow, you do it to yourself.”

She glanced behind her.

“Life’s hard in the spotlight.” She nodded slightly. “But it can be worth it, because sometimes it takes the glare of the public eye to get people noticing how worthwhile you are.” I caught the moment her lips twisted into a lopsided smile. “And that’s why I need to tell you something?”

“What?”

I blinked as I stared into her eyes.

“Adam…” I watched her suck in a breath and then look around the room. “He was given an incredible opportunity, to be added to the 2023 AFL draft.”

“The national league?” I asked, my mouth falling open. “But he never said anything about it.”

“No, he hasn’t.” She shot me a rueful look. “He feels like he can’t, that it’s a choice between you and the rest of the sleuth or football and that if he can’t have both…”

He chose us. Every day since that dinner at the Bridgewater Mill, he’d chosen us. He must’ve got the call sometime between then and now and rather than bring it up with the entire sleuth he’d… I swallowed hard then, more tears forming in my eyes, that I had to brush aside as I stared at him. Beautiful, golden, the centre of attention, that would always be the case, whether he played football or not. I’d known that when I met him and I knew it now.

“I’ve got this,” I told Jack, giving her arm a squeeze before working my way through the gallery.

People called out as I passed, or stopped and stared, like I was the celebrity this time, not Adam, but I didn’t care. I was proud of what I’d been able to pull off in the last few weeks, but that wasn’t more important than this. The way Adam’s face lit up as I drew closer, then his arm hooked out to grab me around the waist.

“And here’s the artist herself. My girl.” He said that with such pride, beaming at the crowd of people clustered around him. “She’s so freaking talented. You wanna snap up some artworks now, while they’re ridiculously cheap, because she’s gonna hit the big time.” He nodded to the paintings on the wall. “Everyone’s gonna want a Freya North original in their lounge room.”

“Adam.” His eyes dipped down to meet mine and his were sparkling. People, it was always people that brought him alive, especially a crowd. But it didn’t seem to matter to him if it was a bunch of art lovers or footy fans, he just wanted a chance to be a part of that collective appreciation. I hugged him close and then turned to the gallery attendees. “You’ll have to excuse us, I just need to have a quick word with him for a sec.”

“Is everything OK?” he asked, once we got outside. People standing in line to enter the gallery turned to watch us go with interest. “Has someone said something shit? Tell me who, Frey, and I’ll sort them out.”

“Adam—”

“Whatever it is, we’ll sort it out.” He took my hands in his and gave them a squeeze. I let out a sigh then and nodded.

“We will.”

I hadn’t connected fully to Adam yet. We all studiously ignored that fact, too caught up in the honeymoon phase to say anything about it, but I was about to now. I let out a long sigh and then reached out.

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