Page 62 of The Art of Loving Ellie
You really know how to command a room, Ellie.I berate myself as I smile nervously at my audience.
My palms are sweating again, and it’s becoming increasingly hard to hold a steady grip on the microphone. I put a hand above my eyes in an attempt to find Alex in the crowd, knowing that his presence will help me through this.
“H—hello, everyone. Thank you so much for attending our Christmas Gala and sharing in the many successes of Alexandre Bernard, and his generous contribution to the art department at the local University.” I pause as the room echoes with clapping.
“My name is Elizabeth Clark, Alexandre’s assistant.” Murmurs from the crowd drift up toward me, and I almost drop the mic to run away, but I take a steadying breath and continue. “Most of you don’t know me, but maybe you have seen me around, hiding in the back—running the show,” I laugh a little, getting a few echoing laughs from our guests which helps to ease my anxiousness.
“I wanted to take a moment tonight to share with you all a story. This story… well, it’s one of a young woman, who desperately wanted to run from her past and start over. Only, this woman didn’t realize that she wasn’t running from her past; she was carrying it around on her back until the weight of it almost broke her.” Getting more comfortable with my words, I start to pace around the stage as I speak.
“Tonight, I have brought what I hope is not only a surprise for my great friend, Alex, but also an apology. An apology for two of the most important men in my life, and the inspiration behind a painting that took a lot of self-discovery to open my heart to.” Ernesto brings out two large metal easels, each holding a matching canvas hidden under a cloth draping.
I look across the room and finally lock eyes with Alex, feeling a sense of deja vu as I speak directly to him. “Alex, you have helped change me and grow me into the confident young woman and artist that I am today. I will forever love, and cherish our beautiful friendship.” The crowd begins to clap, and tears sting my eyes. Alex holds his hands over his mouth attempting to keep his emotions at bay. He blows me a kiss and encourages me to keep going with a wave of his hand.
My heart starts to pound, and I look everywhere across the room for the one person that I need to hear this. “There is a man who is extremely important to me that I hope is somewhere out there tonight. His name is Tyler Mitchell, and—” I swallow hard, hoping I can make it through this without throwing up. More murmurs and gasps come from my audience as I walk over and unveil the two paintings.
Beneath the covers sit two matching canvases; One, has Alex’sNew Beginningsand the other is my complimentary painting titledNew Endings.
Alex has painted a woman who is gaunt, and sickly looking—shying away from a young and healthy man who appears to reach for her with raw desperation. I have created a version of the woman who has changed her fate by taking a chance with a man she knows will contribute to a life she can be proud of.
In my painting, she turns toward the light and warmth the man gives off. With bright eyes, she looks up at him, and only part of her right leg remains shadowed in the sickly gray color that once consumed her whole. Her body is no longer gaunt, and her skin is no longer pale as she accepts the man and the help he offers her with a beautiful, soft smile—eager for change.
A flash goes off, interrupting the stunned silence in the room, and it takes me a second to connect the thought that it belongs to a camera. I walk to the edge of the stage, looking around as another flash sets off across the room.
“Tyler?” I whisper into the microphone, and the guests direct their attention to the front of the room where he stands, holding a camera, and sporting a familiar lazy smile. I try unsuccessfully to calm my thundering heart at the sight of him.
I take a couple of steps down from the stage area and drop the mic to the floor as the guests part themselves to allow Tyler through. They stare at both of us, trying to make sense of how the two off us have anything to do with Alex and the gala—but they don’t realize that he haseverythingto do with it.
I freeze, holding my breath in my white lace dress as I behold this wonderful man before me. “You came.”
He tenderly raises his hand to my face, tilting my chin up to him and I don’t dare blink in case somehow, this is all a dream. He looks incredible in a dark gray, three-piece suit, with his camera hanging between us, and his hair wild and windswept. “No place I’d rather be, Princess.”
I stare up into his beautiful brown eyes and pray that mine are conveying every moment I’ve regretting not being with him, and every moment I’ve hated pushing him away.
“I don’t understand. Why didn’t you respond to me?” Tension slowly starts to leave my body as his thumb traces a line back and forth over my cheekbone.
He takes his time roaming his eyes over my let down hair and white lace dress, and a spark of excitement enters his gaze. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting, Ellie. I knew you needed some time alone to figure things out. You have no idea how hard it was for me to leave you.” He looks truly pained as he recounts the last time we saw each other. “I went to Alex and gave him a piece of my mind. I told him you deserve better, and that you needed him to be there for you, and at that point—I figured I pretty much ruined any chance I had at getting through to you.
“I called Mom and told her I was going to come stay with them for a while, and I shut my phone off, needing some space myself. That’s why I was late tonight—getting over here from Brooklyn was a nightmare, and the snow certainly didn’t help,” he laughs, shaking his head, “Gramps called me a damn idiot when I turned my phone back on and saw your messages.” I smile at the thought of Gramps, not at all surprised to hear him say that.
I think about the words he said to Alex—that I deserve better, and I realize that Margaux was wrong. He didn’t quit his job; he told Alex off and took some time to get away. That’s why he never came back to the office.
“What is it?” he asks, seeing my eyebrows drawn in thought.
I laugh incredulously. “Margaux told me you quit your job at New York Cityscapes.”
“What? Why would she tell you that?”
One of our specters leans over to us. “Who cares, just kiss her already!”
Everyone around us starts clapping, and we laugh at the scene we present. Two people caught in a lover’s quarrel—but, it’s so much more than that.
“Should we give them a show, beautiful?” He wiggles his eyebrows playfully as he swiftly swings me down into a dip, causing the room to spin.
He brings his lips gently down to mine, and everything in the room melts away. I feel the broken chains in my mind, and the vice around my heart completely dissipate knowing that he is here, and I will never have to face my battles alone again.
We right ourselves, and hand in hand we return to the party. Alex wraps us both in a hug and congratulates me, telling me he can’t wait to put our paintings front and center in this place once we get it back to normal.
Tyler and I dance the rest of the night away, and I realize that he’s given me the greatest Christmas present I’ve ever received by being mine. I eat my fill of delicious foods and laugh until I snort at Alex attempting to flirt with a straight man—who is politely uncomfortable, and by the end of the evening, we sneak away to admire my creation.
