Page 85 of The Tomorrows After You
I snuck back into Riot’s room where he slept, shirtless, draped in the soft white sheet. He looked young. Innocent. Vulnerable. A wave of guilt ran through me.
If I’m going to be asking questions, I should tell him why I came back to Godot.
I should tell him that Ihadbeenassignedto root out the very story hetrustedwith me earlier that week. And that Ihadalsokilledit (in my head, at least) weeks ago.
As Iclimbedinto bed, Iscannedhis face, the mooncastinga soft glow on his features, a peaceful warmthrelaxinghis brow. Ihatedthe idea of himdistrustingme, but the longer thiswenton the worse it would be if I didn’t explain myself.
“One more day, Riot,” I whispered inaudibly, snuggling next to him. “Just give me one more day.”
33
Nicolette
The Farmer’s Market was already packed with vendors by the time Riot and I arrived. He stood in the bed of his truck, pushing the artwork to the tailgate. I unloaded his new pieces onto a push cart, noticing how different they had been lately. More colorful, more hopeful.
When I arrived in Godot, his pieces were dark with sharp edges and almost all rusty, black steel. Now the animals had colored eyes, and he used mirrors and glass to cast sparkling rainbows against the walls.
Some of the vendorswerealready coming over to eye the work. Theseweregoingtogo fast and I couldn’t help but beam with pridewatchinghim carry the last one in through the bay door. His black t-shirtclungto his chest and arms in all the right areas and Itriednot to blush,rememberingthe devastatingly wonderful way hewokeme up this morning. His fingerstracingmy nipples and his lipstrailinglower.
“Excuse me, are all of these from the same artist?” a woman interrupted my thoughts.
“They are,” I nodded. Riot bent down to place the heaviest piece on the floor.
“Are you Riot Asher?” she asked with wide eyes.
I groaned.Here we go.I understood why Riot didn’t want to man his own booth. To be subject to open scrutiny. I steeled myself for the tongue-lashing I was prepared to give this woman if she brought up his criminal record. But I was stunned when she stepped right up to him, extending her hand.
“Isawyour piece at the Godot Field Days a few weeks back. Oh, my God,I’mso glad Igotto meet you in person. My nameisAveryAdams; I own an art gallery in Charleston and I simplymusttalk to you about ashowing.”
Riot stood there, looking like an invalid who didn’t speak English. Part of me realized he probably never had this reception before. His eyes flitted to me and I nodded encouragingly. He shook the woman’s hand.
“Thank you, yes that was a good piece. I was… proud of it.” His cheeks pinked and his eyes flitted to me quickly. It was adorable how he stumbled over his words.
Avery linked her elbow through his and began walking. “I’m thinking we could do a limited-time showcase later this summer…” As she passed by she gave me a not-so-subtle wink. “Well, he’s sure marketable, isn’t he?”
A splash of anxious possessionhitme and my eyesnarrowedat the old bat. But Istooddown because thiswasthe first time Riotgotto interact with anyone but me about his artwork. I couldn’t keep his talent to myself forever.
Look at me and my personal growth.
We were once again almost sold out before the market was over. Riot had just returned from his walk with Avery the Art Collector and he was teeming with nervous energy but trying to be cool about it.
“She said if it took off in Charleston, it could maybe be a traveling showcase. There’s a tour going to Charlotte and Asheville later this fall.”
I smiled and stood on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek and brush a loose lock of hair off his face. “That’s awesome, Riot. You should be proud. I know I am.” He smiled at the repeated words he’d written on my article weeks ago.
“I couldn’t have done this without you, Nic. Seriously, thank you.” He wrapped his arms around me and I wondered why I wasn’t feeling more joy. Something in my heart tightened at the idea of Riot going on an art tour.
If it was how he made his living, he could get a limited exception to his probation. He’d done it before for a show on Hanniqua Island. So, why wasn’t I more thrilled? Deep down I knew it was because if Riot’s art career took off, I wasn’t sure where that left me.
Where did Iwantto be? What was next? I shook the thought away. He pulled back and smiled down at me.
“What do you think about going to the diner and getting a giant stack of sticky French toast?” he asked. My heart floated at the hopeful expression on his face.
“I would love to but Ihaveto make a quick visit to the Valley to follow up on that clinical trial study.”Itwasonly a partial lie but itsatin my gut likerottingfruit.
Riot pouted briefly before kissing me on the forehead. “Okay, see you at home?”
Home.There it was again. Said plainly like second nature.
