Page 88 of From West, With Regret

I’m jamming out to Dua Lipa when West comes back.

I remove my ear buds as he sets two bags of takeout on the large table. He crosses the room to where I am on the floor, looking down at the drawing I’ve made. He sits beside me, bending his legs, resting his forearms on his knees, facing the opposite direction.

“How are you liking the studio?”

I grin and sit back on my heels, giving him a quick kiss. “I’mloving it.”

“Good.” He gives me an ear-reaching grin, one that adds life to his blue eyes. He rests his chin on his shoulder as he gazes down at my work. “What number is this one?”

“Nineteen.” I study it, falling in love with it even more. It’s a path in Central Park. Although it’s charcoal on parchment, I imagine the changing colors of the leaves falling to the ground. The black shine of the wrought iron fence overlooking the pond. The sun’s rays peeking through the branches.

“Almost finished,” West points out, his eyes darting up to mine.

“Yeah.” I sigh.

The moment settles between us. I’m almost complete with my twenty pieces, then comes the reopening of The Veiled Door. Followed by uncertainty.

I don’t know what’s going to happen once I’ve finished working for West. This was never meant to be a permanent situation, but so many things have changed since we first met. Will he want me to keep working for him, designing pieces for his other countless bars? Or is this it? The Veiled Door and then I’m finished, going back to selling pieces online?

I put the worry aside as he shifts himself and plants one hand to the floor, straightening his arm. He’s wearing another well-tailored suit. This time, his suit jacket and pants are a deep emerald color. I love them because they bring out the intensity of his blue eyes.

“At this point, we’ll be hosting The Veiled Door’s grand reopening next week.” I laugh, not wanting to make any of that true, but if it’s what West would want, then I would try to finish the last piece this coming week.

“Possibly.” West’s grin twitches. “Though next weekend won’t be any good, considering we won’t be here.”

I pull my brows together. “What do you mean?”

Pulling his phone from the inside pocket of his jacket, he taps the screen a few times before handing it to me.

It’s open on an email.

Hello Mr. Knight,

I first want to apologize for emailing you later than I had originally anticipated. It’s been a busy time for me and my team as we prepare for the opening of my new gallery at the end of the month. Your friend, Holt Capuleti, reached out to me a while back and told me your situation. He explained that not only does your girlfriend admire my work, but that she’s also an artist herself. I must admit that when he told me her name, I couldn’t help myself, so I looked her up online and, wow, her work is phenomenal! You are one lucky man, Mr. Knight.

I would absolutely love the opportunity to meet her and hope you will both accept my offer to preview my gallery this next coming weekend.

I will have my team forward you the address, along with the date and time in a follow up email once I receive your reply.

I’m looking forward to hearing from you and London!

Warmest regards,

Emily Rapture

“Holy shit.” I gasp, covering my mouth and looking up at West, wide-eyed, tears welling in them.

West grimaces. “I hope those are happy tears.”

“Yes.” I nod enthusiastically, bursting with disbelief. “Of course, they are.” I drop West’s phone and reach for his arm. “You’ve got to be kidding me. This can’t be real.”

He chuckles, the lines in the corners of his eyes deepening. “You just read the email yourself. It’s all there in black and white.”

“I can’t believe you did this for me,” I gush.

West shrugs. “With a little help from Holt.”

“I’ll have to thank him later.” I grin. Then I lean forward and kiss West, because that’s all I can think to do. That’s all I want to do.

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