Page 77 of For the Love of Art

“Paints,” I mumbled as I looked around my office.

I walked to a set of cupboards beneath the window and opened them. Aha! I pulled out an assortment of art supplies and set myself up. I didn’t think much about what I would paint, but the outline of Bow Bridge appeared on my canvas. Instead of the bright, warm, happy colors most Central Park themed paintings had, I was drawn to cool tones. A night sky filled with stars and the moon appeared where the sun and clouds should’ve been. A person stood alone on the bridge, head down.

When I finished, I stepped back and examined what I’d created.

I shook my head, dropped my paintbrush on the easel, and headed back into the main gallery.

By the end of the day, everything was set for the following night. I finally felt a sense of accomplishment.

“We did it!” I held my hand up for a high-five. Dori didn’t look particularly thrilled at my celebratory gesture but obliged me anyway.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” she said.

I surveyed the room one more time, smiling at the work I’d done.

“Isla!” Lianne squealed behind me.

I turned just in time for her to throw her body at me in a tight hug.

I laughed. “I missed you too.”

“Never leave this island again.” Lianne squeezed me tighter.

“Let her go. You’re going to kill her with your cobra grip,” Frankie said.

When Lianne let me go, he pulled me in for a hug even tighter than hers.

“Did you have fun on your trip?” Lianne asked.

“Oh, I–” I looked up to see Nathan striding into the main gallery.

“You have company,” Nathan said.

“Sorry. I thought you were at the other gallery,” I said.

“I forgot some papers here.” He patted his leather bag.

I nodded. “Right. Well, I’ll lock up.” I looked at my friends. “Let me just grab my purse.”

I walked to my office and pulled my purse off its hanger. I did a double take of the easel, remembering the pathetically sad painting I’d done earlier. I grabbed it, peeking out into the gallery. Lianne and Frankie were chatting with each other, but I didn’t see Nathan. I snuck into the small back room where we kept extra prints and discreetly hid the painting behind the boxes of champagne for Victoria’s opening.

No one needed to see my sadness.

Lianne and Frankie’s mouths hung open. If it weren’t for Lianne’s Bluetooth speaker playing Anne-Marie’s 2002, you could probably hear a pin drop.

“I’m sorry, he put his finger where?” Frankie squinted his eyes, slowly moving his wine glass closer to his lips.

I was recounting my trip to California, but the only part my friends seemed to care about was the hotel room on my first night.

“In her vagina. Turn on your hearing aid, Grandpa.” Lianne poured herself another large glass of wine. “Or did you need us to draw you diagrams?”

I groaned and fell back in Lianne’s armchair, covering my face with my hands.

Frankie made a face at her, then snatched the bottle of wine to refill his glass.

“Alright, enough with the beating around the bush.” Lianne leaned closer to me. “How did it all end?”

Frankie’s brows came together. “Yeah! You told me that you never swiped your little v-card!”