Serena
I had been back home two weeks, and I tried my best to blend in, but nothing helped. Becky was staying with me, since her parents still refused to speak to her, and they’d cancelled all her credit cards, so she was broke. My dad, as much as he loved her, told me that sometime soon she would have to figure out what to do with her life, because that wasn’t it. She stayed mostly at home, because the press still talked about the whole Matt incident, and she wasn’t in the mood to go out.
My moping around because of Shane was enough. He didn’t call or try to contact me, not that I was expecting it. I spent all day in the small room I used for a studio. It brought back all the things I had when Mom was around as I transferred my paintings to canvas. They were beautiful; even I had to admit it. That helped to numb the pain from missing the ranch and the people there, as well as lots of things that had happened. Dad, and everyone else for that matter, saw that I wasn’t in the best of moods, but he assumed it was because I was back home and the adjustment was difficult. If he’d talked with Hawk, he would know what was going on.
I was in the studio and almost done with my painting of Shane where he was leaning over the fence shirtless, just looking out at the road in front of him. The paintings and his gifts helped me to miss him less, almost as if a part of him was with me here in New York. After all, he loved my paintings and I used his presents, even though the colors I had in my studio were better quality.
I heard a knock on the door, and as it opened, I looked back from my seat. Alice slowly entered, bringing with her a tray of tea and some cookies.
That was another thing; since I came back, she made it quite easy to like her. I wasn’t acting like a spoiled brat, and she was taking time to bring me tea or snacks whenever I was painting, and we’d talk about news in high society or some other useless stuff like that.
“Hey, hope I didn’t interrupt.” She put the tray on the small table I had for occasions like that and sat down while she looked at the canvas. “Beautiful.”
My cheeks heated at her praise. “Thank you.” I washed my hands in the sink and sat down with her. The cookies looked delicious.
“Was he working there?”
“Yes.” Well, okay, that was a bit cold, but I really didn’t want to talk about him. Like, ever, though that was probably impossible.
“He's very handsome.”
Boy, was he!
“Yes.” Just keep on chewing, Serena.
“He looks out of place there, lost.”
I couldn’t take it. “I’m sorry, Alice, but can we change the subject?”
She looked at me wistfully, and there was something in her eyes, like understanding, that got to me. “Your dad is worried about you. You don't go out much.”
“I’m busy, and I needed a break since coming home. Plus the whole Becky situation.”
She nodded while pouring one more cup of tea for herself. “That’s what I told him, and he believed it. Now I want to know how long you’ll keep this up, and if you’re ever going to Milan with your new collection.”
That was unexpected. “I’m still not sure with my line, debating—” She didn’t let me finish.
“Please stop, honey. I may look stupid or too focused on myself, but I’m really not. You spend hours here with all this”—she pointed at the working part of the room—“and you clearly enjoy doing it. And let me tell you, you have an amazing talent. Why don't you focus on that and stop acting as though fashion is what you want to do in life?”
“I love it and I’m good at—”
“Yes, you have great taste in clothes. You look at the trends and always know what to put with what. That just shows you have an artistic eye. It doesn’t mean you have to be a fashion designer. Not when there is something you love more.”
I loved fashion, but it wasn’t my passion. I had the idea for one collection and grabbed at the idea of becoming someone in the industry, to have the artistic craving in me fulfilled, but afterward, I couldn’t draw a damn thing.
Painting was something I loved to do and could see myself doing for a long time. And I knew Mom would have been proud. Losing her was one of the biggest pains I’d ever felt, and part of it would always ache inside me. She wouldn’t want me to grieve to the extent that I became someone else doing a job I liked but didn’t love. Dad would support me in anything I decided, but I didn’t want his interference. It was something I had to do on my own.
I couldn’t be daddy’s girl anymore, where he took care of everything. I had to be on my own, and if there was one thing I learned on the ranch, it was the fact that if there was hard work, there were results.