Page 84 of Redemption

A troubling thought occurs to me.

Dane arranged this. Not me.

I didn’t get here on merit.

“How much does it cost?” I ask Stephen, and Dane’s hand tightens in a vise around mine.

“Cost?” Stephen is completely befuddled by this entire interaction. “If you choose to sell the paintings to interested buyers, you can name your price. We take a ten percent commission.”

“No,” I correct him. “I mean, how much did it cost for you to agree to feature my work?”

“I didn’t pay him, Abigail,” Dane says, voice rough with frustration.

And maybe a touch of hurt.

Oh.

“I’m sorry.” I look at Dane when I apologize and brush my thumb over his palm. “I didn’t understand the arrangement. Thank you for submitting my work.” I turn a friendly smile on Stephen. “I’m thrilled to have my work in your gallery. What do you need from me?”

He returns my smile easily. “Come by sometime tomorrow after close, and we can discuss how you would like your paintings displayed. Is eight o’clock too late for you?”

“Not at all,” I confirm. “Eight sounds perfect.”

I truly am thrilled to have my work in a real art gallery for the first time in my life, but I’m mostly preoccupied with worry that I’ve upset Dane.

“I’ll see you then,” I promise, ending the meeting so that I can be alone with him.

I’ll prove to him just how much this means to me.

“I’m sorry.”I apologize as soon as we’re in the privacy of our rented penthouse.

The view through the floor-to-ceiling windows is stunning. The city of York with its historic architecture is defined by the Minster and Clifford’s Tower, the remnants of a Norman castle. We can see for miles beyond the city walls, all the way out to the rolling green hills of the Yorkshire countryside.

But for now, the scene doesn’t hold my attention like it did when we checked in several hours ago. I’m too concerned that I’ve hurt Dane.

“There’s no need to apologize,” he reassures me, but tension lingers around his jaw.

“I shouldn’t have assumed that you paid for me to be featured in the gallery. I know that bothered you.”

He caresses my cheek, and I’m easily forgiven.

“Your work speaks for itself,” he assures me. “They were all too eager to feature you. If you do choose to sell, I’m sure they’ll earn a hefty commission. Although, I would like to request that we keep the self-portrait.”

My brow furrows. “Why? Doesn’t it disturb you?”

I place my hand over his heart, securing our connection as we both think back to the painful day when I showed him the painting of my anguish.

“No,” he replies firmly. “It’s the most powerful piece of art I’ve ever seen. You deserve to share your talent with the world. You deserve to be seen. Celebrated. Your paintings will be in galleries in London and New York. We can travel anywhere you need to go to establish your career. I know you have difficulty accepting my money, but let me do this for you, at least. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of your own funds soon enough.”

My heart soars, and my eyes sting with a swell of emotion that I fear I recognize.

It’s too soon to say it, but I’ve felt it growing in me every day since he dropped to his knees and said he can’t live without me.

It would be so easy to love Dane again.

I think I already do.

But I need to assert my independence first. I need to go back home and build a new life for myself, one that I share with him.

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