She smiles. “I see,” she says, making me think there’s more to her words.
I glance at Bentley to find his gaze already on me, his expression unreadable.
“Well, apologies again, but I should get going as I still have items to put out,” the lady says with a small wave before hurrying back to her booth.
Where is she going to fit more? Every square inch appears to be covered with her cards.
“Looks like you have another admirer of your work,” I tease Bentley as I start unpacking my stuff.
“Well, I’m certainly an admirer of your work,” he says, extracting a necklace from the selection I’ve just laid out. It’s a jade green butterfly encased in a delicate silver fleur-de-lys pattern with a matching silver chain. “This is beautiful. Must’ve taken hours to perfect that metalwork,” he murmurs, turning it over in his long fingers as he examines it.
Days, more like, but then, all of my jewelry does because each piece is one-of-a-kind. Once a piece is purchased, it’s gone. I can craft similar pieces if a client wishes, but I never make anything exactly the same.
Warmth blooms in my stomach at Bentley’s praise. He’s the only person apart from Callum who encouraged my passion.
The day passes in a blur as hundreds of people pass through the large hall. Bentley and I are run off our feet with interest in our products. It’s a great event to attend if you’re a vendor because people come from far and wide for the variety of wares on sale.
I push down my jealousy when several people book sessions with Bentley, one of whom is a pretty young blonde with a perfect figure. He’s an artist. It’s what he does, I rationalize. Still, it doesn’t stop me from breathing a sigh of relief when her boyfriend joins her, explaining that he wants a drawing of her as an engagement present.
Before I know it, the crowds are finally thinning as the day winds down. I’ve had a great day, selling over half of my stock and handing out flyers and gift vouchers with ten percent off any purchases made atHeart of Goldon opening day.
As I start the painstaking process of carefully packing away the pieces I haven’t sold, the woman from earlier gives me a cheery wave goodbye, having already packed up her cards. My thoughts return to her comment when she saw Bentley’s sketch of me.
Whoever drew this has captured you perfectly.
I pause as her words sink home. Maybe I should rethink things? Why not take Bentley up on his offer to draw me? The sessions are booked and paid for, after all. And I’d be lying to myself if I said I didn’t want to spend time with him.
He's made a success of himself despite all he’s had to overcome. Neglected by his parents and blamed by mine for something that wasn’t his fault. In my parents' eyes, Bentley is the “wicked boy who led their son astray” by sneaking Callum out to go to “that party” the night of the accident. They don’t know the truth: I was the reason they were at the party.
I made an absolute fool of myself that night. I finally worked up the courage to approach Bentley, trying to make him see me as more than Callum’s little sister and a young woman in my own right. I confessed my feelings and clumsily tried to kiss him, but he turned me down flat. Hurt and humiliated, I stormed off and went to a house party, nursing my injured pride and consuming drinks I was too young to purchase legally.
So, why wouldn’t I be flattered when a boy took a shine to me? And why shouldn’t I indulge in a little harmless flirtation? Bentley didn’t want me, but this boy was showing an interest.
But it turned out not to be so harmless because he wasn’t satisfied with a flirtatious exchange of words. Instead, he tried to kiss me, his hands gripping, roaming, and slipping under my T-shirt. My fear turned to panic, and my voice came out only in a whispered “no, no, no,” and “stop, please!” But I wasn’t strong enough to stop his hands from touching my bare skin.
And then Bentley was there, ripping the boy off me and snarling, “Didn’t your mother teach you any manners? She said no. She told you to stop.”
He turned up with Callum when they learned I’d gone to the house of a high school senior renowned for holding wild and out-of-control parties.
Humiliated and furious, I lashed out, telling him I didn’t need a protector and to mind his own business. And like the immature kid I was, I stormed off, stalking all the way home, where I sobbed into my pillow. So much for showing Bentley how grown-up I was.
A little later, my parents received a phone call with the news that Callum and Bentley were in a car accident.
Then we were off to the hospital, my parents seething with anger and looking to assign blame—which fell squarely on Bentley’s shoulders. He never corrected them—he just took their fury along with the brunt of their shitty comments. And Callum and I let him—out of fear of our parents’ wrath.
When I went to find Bentley the next morning, he was gone. Packed up and left for college.
Guilt coats my insides again. Bentley sacrificed so much for me. And I let him. He’s been my heart’s desire since I was sixteen—the troubled kid with neglectful parents. But he never let themtarnish his heart of gold. What would he say if he knew he'd inspired the name of my business?
Maybe it’s time for us to put the past behind us, for me to take a risk and reach out for what I want.
“Earth to Gem.” Bentley’s voice pulls me from my musings.
I shake my head, clearing the cobwebs of the past, and turn to face him. “Sorry, I, uh, zoned out there for a minute.”
His caramel eyes hold a hint of concern as he looks at me. “Everything okay?”
I nod and give him a beaming smile. “Everything’s great.” I take a deep breath. “I … want to go ahead. I want you to draw me.”