CHAPTER 11
The gallery is chic. That’s the only way to describe it. The walls stretch up into a dark copper ceiling. The foyer walls are done in midnight blue with thick, flocked wallpaper that makes me want to reach out and touch the velvet. The color combination makes the place feel warm and posh. The way the light bounces softly on the ceiling gives the illusion of candlelight, but without the flicker. Once inside, there is a myriad of walls with different pieces of Cole’s work hanging on each one. A single spotlight accents his art.
The series of works of Sottero line the center of the room. They stand out against gray walls, drawing the eye around the room. The entire show is breathtaking. As Cole leads me through the rooms, we enter the back wing. I stop short. There is a portrait of me—an image that was not in the LeFemme box. It’s a painting of me with angel wings made from paint and seemingly random objects. The exposure is perfect. My skin has a silky glow and is perfectly smooth. A piece of silk covers part of my chest, while crystals cover the rest of my naked self. My hair is blowing and I look completely and totally awesome. If someone thought I’m a goddess, that’s what it would look like. It is standing in a back corner, set apart from the rest. The entire show has a somber feel, like the artist feels lost. Looking at the rest of the pieces has a calming effect, but this one is different than the rest. It screams of hope and happiness. It doesn’t belong.
“Cole, this shouldn’t be here.” I say, turning to him with my heart racing a mile a minute.
“I should have asked you. I understand if you don’t want anyone else to see it—”
I take his arm, stopping him midsentence, and turn him toward me. Cole thinks I’m too prude to let him show it. “That’s not it, Cole. You can leave it up if you want, but it doesn’t blend with the rest of the show. Those works out there are all melancholy and pensive. This one…”
I don’t know how to compare it. There is no comparison. The front of the show is all tortured artist, and this is happy dude. The only speck of black on the canvas is a crow that’s in the tippie top of one of my wings. There are other things too, objects that mean something to me or us; a yellow sneaker, a tutu, a red ribbon. I can’t help but smile when I look at it, and I want his last show to be amazing. This is so different that I don’t know people will say.
Cole pulls me to him, wrapping his arms around my waist. “It’s perfect. It’s everything I was missing, everything that’s important to me, now.” He kisses my cheek lightly, searing my skin. My knees feel like jelly for a second and I lock them so I don’t fall over. I smile at him shyly.
He says, “I have something for you.” Cole releases me and pulls a black box out of his pocket. My eyes grow wide and I glance between his face and the ring box—that is totally a ring box. “You’re the only woman who would accept a proposal without a ring.” He grins and cracks open the lid.
Inside is the most beautiful ring that I’ve ever seen. It’s not a traditional engagement ring. There’s no single diamond set on prongs. Instead it’s a glittering blue stone the color of Cole’s eyes, set in white gold. It’s so simple and sophisticated at the same time. My hands cover my mouth as I gasp. I don’t know why I’m shocked, but I am.
I’m shaking too much to move. Cole reaches for my left hand. He pulls the ring from the box and slips it on my finger. It fits perfectly. I smile, stunned into silence before throwing my arms around his neck and kissing his face over and over again.
“It’s beautiful.” I breathe after we part.
“It’s a diamond. I saw the color and that setting, and knew it was perfect for you, my beautiful bride.” Cole leans close to my ear and presses his lips to my neck.
Someone says, “Ah-hem,” and Cole pulls away from me with a wicked smile on his face. “This is the infamous Anna, I assume?”
Cole nods. “Frederick, may I introduce my bride-to-be, Anna Lamore.” Fredrick extends a dainty hand toward me. He’s five foot nothing with wavy black hair and tanned skin. His dark eyes glitter like he’s stealing a cookie. I smile at him as we shake. “Anna, this is Frederick Supoe, the gallery owner.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say. “Thank you for arranging this show so quickly for Cole.”
“Cole and I go way back. There’s nothing that pleases me more. He never shows certain works and I can tell from looking around that this is indeed the lost works of a lost man.” Frederick folds his arms over his narrow chest and moves towards the painting of me. He taps his front tooth and then points to the bright painting, “Except this one. This one is the most brilliant.” Frederick stares at it like he’s awestruck.
I don’t understand. I step next to Frederick. We’re nearly the same height. I glance at him. “Why?”
He doesn’t look at me. Instead he continues to gaze at the canvas. “Any man can be lost. Any man can capture that emotion in film or paint, but it takes a much more to pull up from the ashes and start again. That’s what this says to me. It says we have a new Cole. The piece is symbolic of his new name, of his new life. The front rooms are filled with the secrets of his past, but this—this is his future.” Frederick turns and looks at me. “You’re an impressive woman, Miss Lamore. I hope you’ll consider putting on a show here.”
I’m flabbergasted. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Supoe’s Gallery is the finest in the city.
When I make a squawking sound, Cole answers for me, “She would love to.”
“I’ll be expecting it.” He winks at me before walking to the front of the gallery. It’s nearly time to open.
I want to jump up and down. Glee spreads across my face. Cole takes me in his arms and swings me around. Cole and I laugh as we whirl in a circle. I’ve never seen him so happy.