Page 98 of Crash and Burn
He opened his mouth to explain but a loud, refined voice called out before he could.
"Excuse me everyone, if I can have your attention this way, please."
"That's my cue." Grant tried to adjust his tie with shaky fingers but only ended up turning it askew.
"You're making it worse," I told him.
I reached up and fixed it for him, smoothing the tie down once it was in its proper place.
"Liz..." Grant said.
His blue eyes met mine, deep and penetrating. My cheeks burned. I stepped back quickly, dangling my hands at my sides. Grant cleared his throat and looked away.
"Thanks," was all he said.
"...And now let me introduce our newest artist, Grant Williams!”
Grant inhaled a sharp breath as everyone began clapping.
"Here we go," he said before striding up to the front of the room.
I kept my trembling hands clasped behind my back.
I'd looked into Grant's eyes so many times before. I'd seen every emotion reflected in them. Lately all I'd seen was hurt, and guilt.
But in that brief moment, the only emotion in those eyes was a familiar, tender warmth.
After the art director introduced Grant and said a few words about his talent and skill, we were all led deeper into the gallery where dozens of photos were displayed on the walls.
I didn't recognize many of them, as I assumed most of the shots were taken specifically for his newest project. There were a few older pieces I remembered him showing me though. Some of them were from that evening on the rooftop of the abandoned building. I tried not to fall into a deep well of nostalgia.
I spotted Jessie and waved to her somewhat frantically. She came over to me with an understanding smile and lifted her Champagne flute in greeting.
"He's pretty good, isn't he?" She nodded to Grant's photos.
"He's always been amazing." I hoped she couldn't hear the plaintive note to my tone. "I didn't think I'd see anyone else I knew at this thing."
"Mason invited me," she said. "He wanted to make sure the gallery was packed with people."
"It sure seems to be." I surveyed the room, taking in the press of bodies. "There's a lot more people than I thought there would be for an art show."
"I heard some people talking," she said. "Apparently Grant has been making a name for himself in the art world."
I hadn't known that. He hadn't told me. I didn't know anything about Grant's current project. We hadn't talked about his art, or anything really, ever since that day when...
I inhaled deeply, pushing down the rising anguish. I forced a smile.
"I'm happy for him," I told her. "I want him to do well."
"You're much more forgiving than I am," Jessie said.
"I don't hate him or anything," I told her. "I'm just—" My voice faltered, my heart clenching in my chest.
"It's okay if you're angry with him," Jessie said. "You don't need to forgive and forget so quickly if you're not ready. It takes time to get to the point of forgiveness sometimes."
"I am angry," I told her. "And hurt. But I don't want to let these feelings fester. I want to heal and move on."
"Just don't force it," Jessie said. "You lost something, someone, important to you. You're allowed to grieve that loss."
