Page 32 of Angel

Next to it was a white grand piano.

Beyond was an extensive kitchen adjacent to a voluminous dining room, where a contemporary concrete table stood paired with eight studded leather chairs.

My breath caught as my eyes drifted to the wall.

One of my own oil paintings hung above a side console, making a bold, dramatic statement in the space.

I spun around, biting my lip as I pointed at the canvas.

‘Where did you get that, Angel?’

He tracked my gesture, and for a second, his expression softened.

‘Don’t remember, Rox?’ Angel muttered, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe. ‘I bought it at your last showing downtown.’

‘Toni, my boss, said it was an anonymous buyer,’ I stammered, my head spinning. ‘I never followed up to find out the name.’

He shrugged his massive shoulders.

‘I came for that show, if you remember, with Evangeline. I loved the energy in the image. I had to have it in my house because it’s stunning.’

I blinked, stunned by his secretive support.

He had no clue that the inky, melancholic palette of that specific artwork reflected one of my darkest seasons of despair; a visual ode to my unrequited love for him.

‘It’s a perfect complement to the room,’ he rasped, blind to the emotional storm raging in my heart.

I sank deeper into his sofa, absorbing his words, eyes locked on my painting in his house, while he walked down the hall to finish his own packing.

He emerged ten minutes later, rolling a silver suitcase and carrying his battered acoustic guitar case.

He’d changed into a pair of dark, faded jeans that hugged his muscled thighs.

Plus a black vintage T-shirt that stretched over his ripped chest and a leather jacket.

He was majestic, masculine, and imposing, all rockstar edge and armor.

‘Ready to join the hordes who’ve bought into the hype of Capri?’

My mood perked up a little at his wry, wan smile.

‘Have you been?’ I asked him.

‘A couple of times,’ he shrugged. ‘It’s crowded, busy, and never quite lives up to its billing. I’m not a fan of tourist masses.’

‘Did you know you and Evangeline were honeymooning there?’ I murmured.

Angel winced at the sound of her name, and I regretted speaking it aloud.

‘I was running on fumes with the tour schedule,’ Angel rasped. ‘I let her and her planner handle all the prep and bookings while I signed the checks. Turns out I wasn’t locked in enough.’

I caught the bitter note in his timbre.

My heart broke for him, and we fell into a prickly silence until he raised his chin at me.

I got the memo and rose, tracking to the door.

He gestured for me to precede him out of his house and back toward the waiting car.