Page 101 of If My Wishes Came True
“No,youare.”
“We make a good team,” she says, putting her arm around me.
After another forty-five minutes, we’ve talked to Vanessa and Asher, who came straight from a dinner date in Little Italy and are holding hands as they walk around the space, eyeing each othermore than the artwork. They’re obviously very much in love.
I’m happy for her.
And Sam is here with—let me see if I can get this straight—the lead guitarist of a Brooklyn-based indie rock band, whom she had a friends-with-benefits relationship with while she was studying at NYU, and she still sleeps with whenever he’s in Chicago for a gig. He’s leaving tomorrow morning, which might explain why they’re off in a dark corner, groping each other.
I’m happy for Sam, too. She’s not in any rush to settle down, and I respect that.
“He’s gorgeous,” a woman’s voice says from beside me.
I assume she’s talking about Sam’s guitarist, who’s undeniably attractive, but when I turn to face the woman, her eyes are on Charlie.
Charlie’s portrait, that is.
“How much?” she asks, eyeing my painting.
“This one’s not for sale,” Christy says. I’m relieved we talked about this ahead of time, because we’ve gotten many inquiries—especially from older female art collectors.
“Too bad,” this particular older female art collector says. At least she’s not pushy, like some of the others.
“My client would be happy to paint a custom portrait for you, if you’re interested,” Christy goes on, handing the woman my new business card.
“Sign me up,” she says. “I have the perfect subject. My high school beau, James Winston. I’m sure I have a picture of him somewhere. He looked just like a young Elvis Presley.”
“He sounds very handsome,” I say as Christy shifts gears backto business, closing the deal for me.
I’ve never seen her this self-assured, and it’s a great look for her. She’s in her element, relying on her sharp wit and intellect. That’s her comfort zone. If she can just figure out how to maintain this level of confidence when it comes to men and dating, she’ll have the world in the palm of her hand.
By the end of the night, she’s on cloud nine—and I have a list of commissions and potential new clients a mile long. It’s hard not to be thrilled about it.
I can’t believe Charlie didn’t show up, though.
The crowd is clearing out. Vanessa and Asher are continuing their date at a jazz club on the other side of town. And Sam and her guitarist are at her place, getting it on, I assume. The gallery will be closing soon.
“Maybe he mixed up the dates,” Christy offers, reading my mind.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “He knew it was tonight. But…it’s okay.”
My sister looks devastated. She wanted to believe in this love story as much as I did.
“I thought Charlie and I were soulmates, too,” I tell her. “I bought into the fairytale. But my story doesn’t end with a man who can’t stand up for himself. Who won’t fight for his own happiness. If he isn’t here tonight, then…he’s not the right person for me, Christy.”
She circles her arms around me. “You’ll find the one you’re meant to be with. And so will I. We’ll go on double dates, and celebrate our engagements, and be ineach other’s weddings. It’ll be a new chapter for both of us, and it’s going to be the best one yet.”
“Yes, it is,” I say with a heavy, but hopeful, heart. It’s a relief to be able to feel both of those things at once.
For so long, I wouldn’t let myself wish anymore. I wouldn’t let myself believe in happy endings. But now I do. Even if this isn’t my happy ending, I can hold out hope that mine is still coming.
And that means I’ve come a long way.
“I’m going to hit up the ladies’ room before we leave,” I tell Christy.
“I’ll wait for you outside,” she says.
I walk to the far side of the gallery, then down a long hallway to find the restroom. I don’t really have to use it, so much as I wanted a moment to myself before going home for the night. There’s so much on my mind. My excitement over the success of the show. My disappointment over Charlie.
