Chapter 19
FOREST
I’m busy pulling a pair of boxers up my legs when Carla bursts into my room. She stops, takes one look at me, and with her eyes almost rolling out of her head, she turns around and darts out.
“Noooooo!” I hear her cry as she runs down the hallway. “Aaaahhhhhh… my eyes!”
I begin to laugh, and it makes it more challenging getting dressed. Once I have the cargo pants and button-up shirt on, I go after her. She’s sitting in the living room, rocking herself. “I need to bleach my eyes. God, I’m traumatized.”
I begin to laugh again. “You should’ve seen your face.” I crack up when I recall it. “It looked like your eyes were trying to roll out of their sockets.”
“The image of your penis is ingrained into my brain,” she complains, still rocking herself. “I’m scarred for life!”
Laughter explodes from me, and I grab hold of my stomach. When I manage to catch my breath, I say, “That will teach you to just walk into my room.”
“Never again,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m so sorry.” She pulls a face. “Boy, am I sorry.”
“What was so important it couldn’t wait?” I ask.
“Oh.” She gets up, and when she looks at me, she pulls a disturbed face. “I really need to bleach my eyes.”
“Carla,” I chuckle, “the sooner you tell me, the quicker you’re rid of me.”
“Can you go to the drug store and get me some flu meds?”
Instantly the smile drops from my face. “Do you feel sick?”
She nods and sinks back down on the couch. “Yeah. My body aches all over, and my throat feels like someone shoved thorns down it.”
Noah walks into the living room and takes one look at Carla. He goes to her and taking her hand, he says, “I’ll make sure she gets meds in her.”
“He’s going to drug and kill me,” she groans.
“Don’t give me any ideas,” he grumbles as he takes her back into her room.
I shake my head, and I’m just about to go back to my room to finish getting ready for the event at the gallery when Aria comes into the suite.
It’s been hard giving her the space she needs.
“Hey,” she murmurs when she sees me.
“Tonight’s the big night,” I say. “Are you excited?”
She nods. Her eyes dart around the living room, then she asks, “Are you still coming?”
A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. “Of course.”
“My dad arranged a private jet to fly us to San Francisco. I’m also staying overnight so I can visit the other galleries while I’m there.” She swallows hard. “I was hoping you’d stay with me so we can talk?”
Without hesitating, I say, “I’ll pack a bag. What time are we leaving?”
“At three.” She pulls a cute face while glancing down at the floor. “I’m sorry it’s so soon. I was trying to work up the nerve to ask you.”
God, I wish I could kiss her right now.
“Don’t worry about it.” I look back down the hallway, then ask, “Is Carla coming?”
“I’m going to check with her now.” Aria heads to Carla’s room.
“I will not eat chicken soup. Don’t you dare order it,” Carla grumbles at Noah.
“Chicken soup?” Aria asks.
“Yeah, she’s sick,” Noah mutters. “And a terrible patient.”
“Aww… no. So you can’t come tonight?” Aria asks as she goes to feel Carla’s forehead. “Do you have meds? Should I go get you some?”
“I’ve got it covered,” Noah answers. “Don’t worry about her.”
“Worry about me,” Carla groans. “I’m stuck with the tin man.”
Trying not to laugh, Aria says, “Damn, we’ll miss you.”
“You go kick ass,” Carla grins as she turns onto her side. “I’m just going to sleep it off.”
“I’ll call later to check on you,” I tell Carla.
“Enjoy the night, guys.”
When we leave the room, I shut the door behind us. “I’ll just grab a bag and throw some clothes in it. Give me ten minutes.”
“We have an hour. Don’t rush.”
Walking into the building where the gallery is, Aria, Uncle Mason, Aunt Kingsley, and I take the elevator to the tenth floor. The doors open to white walls with a piece of art on display. Stepping out, I glance around me. I take a brochure from a table and flip through it. When I see Aria’s piece, a smile instantly tugs at my lips.
She’s so fucking talented.
I turn to Uncle Mason. “Aria’s piece is number eight.”
He looks in the book, then grins. “Will you look at that? My daughter is an artist.”
I check the numbers on the other paintings until I find Aria’s. Abstract brushstrokes form a forest. Light shimmers through the shadows. The longer I stare, the more detail I notice, and then suddenly, a couple embracing pops out. It rips the breath from my lungs.
Is that us?
Uncle Mason comes to stand next to me, crossing his arms over his chest. There’s a proud look in his eyes, and a soft smile tugs at his lips. “A masterpiece,” Uncle Mason murmurs. “Aria’s the most talented by far.”