CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
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JAMES
I hated how Jane made Emma feel uncomfortable. I knew she was putting on a show, which we’d both agreed to, but I couldn’t wait to get out of the car and tell her to stop. We had to pretend in front of the cameras, not behind them.
As Emma looked out the window, I took Jane’s hand and stopped it from caressing me.
When we pulled outside the gallery, the music from the building hummed, and I could see a lot of people inside the windows. It didn’t look overcrowded, but there were certainly more people than I expected.
Before getting inside the building, I let Emma go in first. I needed to see her face when she realised that the exhibition was of photography instead of art. But also, because I needed to speak to Jane.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked her after holding her hand. A couple of people had seen us. I heard them whisper as they took their phones out to take a picture. The show must go on.
She smiled at me. “What are you talking about?”
Nobody around us could hear what we were saying to each other. As far as they could see, we were a couple sharing loving whispers.
Keeping the pretence, I kissed the top of her head. “You’re making Emma feel uncomfortable. It needs to stop.”
“Oh, James, she loves you. I’m just giving her a little push to realise it.”
My body begged me to freeze, and my heart threatened to stop as I tried to get my head around Jane’s words. I didn’t have time to think though. A teenager approached us, bringing me back to reality. I took a quick glance at Emma, who stood at the door watching us. Her arms wrapped around herself, as if she were cold. The desire to let go of Jane and run towards Emma, kiss her and tell her the truth, pulled at me, but instead, like the fool I was, I stayed smiling for the cameras and attached to Jane.
But by the time we finished getting pictures taken and signing a couple of autographs for the two teenagers, Emma had already gone inside the gallery, and I’d lost her to the crowd.
I looked around, scouring the mass of people, trying to locate her flaming-red head. Finally, my gaze landed on her. She stood in front of a single photograph. Ready to walk towards her, to see if she was okay, I was stopped by John..
“Hey, glad you made it, man,” he said, shaking my hand and slapping my back. With his height blocking my view, I was scared of losing her again.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Thanks for inviting us,” I answered, eager to leave. “Sorry, there’s someone I would like to talk to.”
John wasn’t used to being interrupted, or being brushed aside; his defensive posture made it obvious. Another day I would have apologised further, but the need to get close to Emma was overpowering. My steps became faster, more urgent to reach to her. She still stood in the same spot. Relief that she was before me released the tension in my shoulders. I wasn’t prepared for the hit of emotions that chased the release though. She was stunning. Her beauty was in how she carried herself, how she smiled, how she’d always expected and allowed me to be me. Standing in front of the solo print, the light making her red hair shine beautifully, the tidal wave of feeling for this woman threatened to drown me.
I could’ve stared at her forever. Her delicate movements, the way she concentrated on whatever she was doing… every gesture and moment held me captive. I stood rooted, watching her completely in a trance, until Jane nudged me, interrupting my reverie. “What are you waiting for? If there was ever a moment….”
Without a word, I stepped directly behind Emma. Her heat brushed against my shirt. I glanced up from her and focused on the print. It was a black and white photograph of two weathered hands, that of a man and woman. The name written underneath, Forever Love.
“What do you think when you look at this one?” she asked without turning around to face me.
My pulse spiked that she’d known it was me without having to check. I swallowed the rush of feeling and focused on the photograph. I didn’t have an eye for this type of thing, but I tried to analyse it. I mulled it over and then answered, “I think they just got married.”
This time she did turn to look at me, a small smile on her lips. “What makes you think that?”
“The wedding rings.” I shrugged.
She stayed quiet for a couple of minutes. “Do you want to know what I think?”
I nodded, taking in a big breath, fighting the need to move the hair away from her neck, struggling with the need to touch her. “Yes,” I finally answered.
“I think they’ve been married for years, maybe they were friends before they got together….”
She stopped there and didn’t continue.
A silent look was all it took as she glanced at me. I knew she was hurting, but that simple, harmless look told me exactly how she felt about me.
“I love this place. I’m completely speechless,” she admitted after clearing her throat. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
I smiled at her, hoping that she would smile back. “It’s not too bad.”
She did. Her sad face broke into a huge grin. It was what I’d hoped for, why I’d jumped at the chance to bring her here, knowing she would love it.
“Come on, let’s get you a drink.”
At this she giggled. “Are you trying to get me drunk, James?” Her natural smile and voice returned.
“Me? Never.”