Chapter 12 The exhibition hall for the art show was starting to empty. Most of the people who remained were either staff or students. And me? I was crushed. "Why do you keep looking at the door?" Janelle asked. Trying to keep my eyes from welling up, I played dumb. "Am I?" "Yeah." "Didn't realize it." There were only a few minutes left of the show, and Dorian hadn't come. I didn't realize how much him being here mattered until he apparently stood me up. Almost every person here had someone who'd come to cheer them on-except for me. It cast a spotlight on something I'd tried to bury: the painful fact that I was essentially alone in this world. I'd made it seem like it didn't matter whether or not he came, yet I still couldn't help feeling let down. In my head, Dorian was my person, someone I could count on, even if things weren't romantic between us. But that was just another delusion. "Hey, Primrose." I turned to find Brandon Wright standing next to me. Brandon was a fellow artist who had graduated from the Institute several years back. He now served as a student advisor and mentor. I knew he had done really well in the industry, having sold several paintings, some to celebrity clients. "Hi." I managed a smile. "I didn't want to interrupt you earlier. Every time I looked over, someone was talking your ear off. But I didn't want to leave without congratulating you on the show. Your pieces are exquisite." "Thank you," I said, forcing myself to perk up. "That means a lot coming from you." "You should look happier than you do this evening," he told me. "Oh..." I shook my head, ready to deny it. "This business-it's a marathon, not a sprint, you know? I know how hard it is to stay the course when some days it seems like the only person you're creating for is yourself. There's little reward for most people, but I believe those who are talented will find success. So even if your paintings didn't sell tonight, just know that the longer you stay the course, the better things will get." "Like you..." I nodded. "You're doing so great now." He shrugged. "I'm hardly successful, but I'm getting there." Brandon had long brown hair past his shoulders and a beard. He was handsome and sort of resembled Johnny Depp's character from Pirates of the Caribbean. "I saw your exhibit on the faces of homelessness at the gallery in downtown L.A.," I told him. "The people you created look so realistic. And the message was obviously profound." "When did you go?" "When it first opened. I think on the second day." "You should've let me know. I would have met you there." He paused. "Actually...are you busy tomorrow night? I'd love to hang out, talk more, if you're around." Caught off guard, I waited before responding, unsure whether he was asking me out. But I shouldn't pass up the opportunity to connect with him in any case. "I had plans to go out with a friend to Juno Bar," I finally answered. "A guy friend or...?" So he was asking me out. "A female friend. You know her. Janelle Ainsley." I looked around. "She's still here somewhere." "Ah." He nodded. "Would you want some company, then?" I hesitated a moment because I wasn't a hundred-percent sure I wanted to go there with Brandon. But ultimately, I had no reason to say no. "That'd be great, yeah," I said. "Perfect." He smiled. "I'd love to get to know you better." "That would be nice." He rubbed his hands together. "Cool." "We're supposed to be meeting there around eight." "Eight's great. I'll touch base with you by text tomorrow to make sure everything is still on." After we exchanged numbers, I said, "I really appreciate you coming out tonight, Brandon." "I wouldn't have missed it." Then one of my professors came by to say hello. Brandon whispered, "See you tomorrow night," as he excused himself and left. The moment he was gone, Dorian's absence returned to the forefront of my mind. As I finished talking with my teacher, I decided that if I ran into Dorian at the house later, I wouldn't even say anything. I'd let him figure out that he'd forgotten. Or maybe he didn't. Maybe he simply decided against coming. He probably didn't want to lead me on any more than he already had. Either way, I had to play like it didn't matter. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing it had hurt me. *** The longer I could stay out of the house the better, so I asked Janelle if she wanted to stop at a bar after the event. She agreed, and then I spent most of that time out stewing in silence over Dorian's absence this evening. When I finally got home, it was late, and I was shocked to find Dorian sitting in the living room. He stood the moment I entered, as if he'd been waiting for me to come back. "Hi..." I said, trying to appear casual. It was comical that I'd ever thought I could hide my feelings from him. My emotions were about to explode out of my head, so I was certain they were written all over my expression. "I thought you'd never come home." "I went out," I said. "Were you out with that Jesus-looking guy I saw you with at the art show?" My eyes widened. "What?" "I'm so sorry about tonight, Primrose." He shook his head. "If I'd had your number, I would've called. Why the fuck don't I have your phone number?" "Wait." I blinked. "You came to the art show?" He scrubbed a hand over his face. "I had meetings all day in L.A. Traffic was absolute hell getting back from the city to Orion Coast. I even left early, but there must've been like three accidents. I got to your event just as everything was ending. When I walked in, you were deep in conversation with some man, and I felt awkward interrupting you, especially when they were closing down the event. I'd already missed it. So I opted to leave and explain the situation to you later, rather than interrupt your conversation. Except later was much later than I thought it would be." I expelled a breath. "I came home tonight determined to not let you see how upset I was that you weren't there. I was never gonna mention it to you. I feel like a fool for assuming you didn't care enough to come." I sighed. "But you absolutely should've interrupted my conversation." "It didn't feel right for some reason. In retrospect, though, I agree. I should've let you know I was there. I've been anxious all night that you thought I'd forgotten or chose not to show." He hesitated. "But I got a vibe that something might've been going on with you and that guy. I didn't want you to have to explain me to him or have him make assumptions." He paused. "Who is he?" "Brandon Wright. He's a local artist." "Would I have been interrupting something?" "He did ask to go out tomorrow night." Dorian swallowed hard. "I was right, then." "You still could've interrupted." His face reddened. Or maybe it was my imagination. Maybe I wanted to believe Dorian was jealous, that it served him right after rejecting me. It also could've been in my head. In any case, the fact that I cared so much about what he thought was unfortunate. I tried to downplay it. "It's not really a date. I'd planned to go to Juno Bar with Janelle anyway. When he asked me if I wanted to hang out, I told him I'd be there if he wanted to stop by." "Seems like a date to me," Dorian insisted, wearing an unreadable expression. "You like him?" I like you. I shrugged. "I don't know much about him, other than he's a talented artist." "He'd be a good fit for you, then, right?" "Not necessarily. I've never dated another artist. They tend to be moody and unpredictable." His eyes stayed on mine for a moment. "Anyway... Big lesson learned tonight. I should have your phone number. I hadn't realized I didn't until I couldn't reach you." I handed my phone to him. "Enter your number. I'll send you a text so you can program me in." As he took the phone, the brush of his hand sent a flash of desire through me. I watched as he entered his information. When he gave it back to me, I texted him the middle finger. He looked down at his phone. "Lovely. Thank you. Is that because you still somehow think I stood you up?" "It's for being dumb and not coming to say hello just because you saw me talking to someone." I should've stopped there, but instead I added, "Do you think I'm hung up on you or something because of my stupid mistake of a proposition? Is that why you thought your presence would trip me up in front of Brandon?" "No," he murmured. "You don't need to worry." I looked down and muttered, "I'm over that." If Dorian was smart, he'd see right through me. He'd see that all of this was for his benefit because I was indeed still hung up on him, and the fact that he'd rejected me still stung just as much as it had when it happened. And that was so very bad. I needed to protect myself from getting hurt even more. An idea occurred to me. "In fact..." I continued. "I think the sooner we become more comfortable with this living situation out in the open, the better we'll be. There's nothing to hide. I think you should meet us tomorrow night at Juno Bar. Bring a date." Dorian narrowed his eyes, seeming perplexed. "I don't know." "Don't tell me you don't have a date on a Friday night." After a brief pause, he proved me right. "I was supposed to meet someone for dinner." Of course you are. A rush of jealousy shot through me. Why am I like this? "So bring her to Juno Bar. We'll be there around eight." "Will you be offended if I say no?" "Yep." I smirked. "Plus, you owe me for flaking tonight, even if it wasn't your fault." "I guess you have a point there. I wouldn't want to disappoint you twice." "Great, then. I'll see you tomorrow night. And if something comes up, you now have my number." "I do." "Good." I pointed my finger against his chest. "Use it." "I will." Boy, did I know how to torture myself. Now I was pseudo-flirting with this guy? I walked toward the stairs. "Heading to bed?" he asked. "Yeah." I turned, pretending to yawn. "I'm kind of tired, so..." "Okay." He nodded. "Can I show you something first?" "Sure." We walked upstairs together, and he led me into the primary bedroom closet. I was shocked to find everything...gone. I gasped. "Wow." "Benjamin took all their belongings to the donation place today. He left you the green dress. So, the closet and bedroom are ready for you whenever you want them." My mouth hung open as I looked around at the space. "It looks so empty." "That's because it is." "I'll move my stuff over the weekend. I really appreciate you letting me have the space." "It'd go to waste otherwise. But again, only use it if you want to. Don't feel like you have to." "I genuinely want to. Thank you again." "You don't need to thank me." "Maybe I won't thank you verbally again. But I'll have to create something for you in this space as a token of my appreciation." "I'll accept that." I continued to look around. Then I turned to him. "You said you went to L.A. today. Do you normally have a lot of meetings there?" "No. I can usually handle everything remotely from the Orion Coast office. But there was a potential investor in town from China. He wanted to meet with me personally before he went back." "Are things getting any easier at work?" "In some ways, yes. And in some ways, no." "Why is that?" "I'm getting more used to the job and dealing with some of the people who worked for my father. But there have also been some surprises-deals he made I wasn't aware of. Things I don't necessarily agree with in his business practices." He sighed. "It is what it is." His eyes lowered to my chest and moved down the length of my body. "You look beautiful tonight, Primrose." I looked down at myself. I was wearing a black dress with a sheer lace design at the top. "Are you just saying that because I put on something other than a crop top?" "Not just that. You were glowing when I saw you talking earlier, clearly in your element." "Jesus. How long were you watching me and not saying anything?" "Not that long." "You'd never know I was bummed that you didn't show, huh? I guess I'm a good actress." "You were that upset?" He cringed. "Again, I fucked up in not letting you know I was there." "Now that I understand what happened, it's not a big deal. I'm not sure why it upset me so much. I guess I wanted you to see a bit of my life outside this house. I wanted to impress you." "You already impress me. Every day." Feeling shy, I looked away for a moment. "Why do we always end up talking in this closet?" "Because you make it easy." He grinned. "I used to hide in here, actually." "What do you mean?" "When I was younger. When I wanted to be alone, I'd go right to my mother's closet. No one would ever think to look for me in here. I'd fish in her pockets for breath mints." "Did you find them?" "Sometimes. Other times, I'd find things I wasn't meant to." "Like what?" "Like a business card to a private investigator, along with photos of my father kissing another woman." He grimaced. My stomach sank. "That must have been hard. Were you old enough to understand?" He nodded. "I think I was about ten. And, yeah, unfortunately, I did understand. I remember mourning the life I thought I had, figuring out that nothing was really the way it seemed. I also remember feeling this relief that my mother knew, and it wasn't a secret I had to keep. I couldn't imagine doing that. I was proud of her for not letting him pull the wool over her eyes." "Did you say anything to her?" "No. But I do remember secretly wishing she'd give him a piece of his own medicine. Kind of a strange thing to hope about your mom, I guess." "Do you think she ever did?" "I don't know. It was only a few years later that she got sick. And then a few years after that, she passed away." He let out a long breath. "I often wonder if it was the stress of my father's affairs that made her ill. Stress can do a number on the body." Dorian stared up at the ceiling. "I remember thinking there was no braver thing than what she did-staying married to him when she could've just taken him to the cleaners. They didn't even have a prenup." "Do you think she loved him, or she stayed married to him for you?" He pondered that a moment. "I think it was the latter. And I regret that. I wish she'd been with someone who respected her more." "Isn't it also possible that she stayed with him because she loved him? Both things can be true, can't they?" "I don't know. I don't understand how you can love someone who does that to you." "When we first met, though, you said you believed your father only ever loved your mother. That's why he couldn't have possibly loved Christina..." He waved that away. "I was talking out of my ass the night we met. I don't know whether my father truly loved my mother. And I never will. I know he was pretty upset after she died. I just never knew whether it was guilt or whether his heart was broken. But not sure how you could do something like he did to someone you truly love." The sadness in his eyes was palpable. "You think having money turns some good people bad?" "It definitely doesn't help." He paused. "I remember as a boy wishing so badly that I just had a normal family, you know? One where the father wasn't a cheater. Where there wasn't so much money that you never knew whether someone was using you." A pained look crossed his face. "But after Mom died, I regretted ever wishing for anything other than the life I had with her. She really was a great mom. And how much more did I need, you know?" He rubbed his temples. "God, how the fuck did I get to this place of vulnerability yet again in this fucking closet?" "I think this stuff just needs to come out sometimes." "It scares me how easily I open up to you, Primrose." "I'm glad I'm here so you don't have to go through this experience alone. I'm always happy to listen." "You say that, but I just complained to you about having a privileged childhood. How fucking tone deaf is that?" "You still have a right to your feelings. Your wealth doesn't take away the fact that you were hurt by your father's actions, that you expected more, and also that having money sometimes can be a curse." He searched my eyes. "You said your father wasn't around when you were growing up, but did you know him at all?" I shook my head. "When my mother told him she was pregnant with me, he left and refused to believe he was the father. He didn't want to deal with it. Rick continued to deny I was his, even though he was the only person she'd been with." "Did you ever meet him?" A wave of overwhelming sadness came over me. My voice shook. "I met him once." "You don't have to elaborate," Dorian said. "I never told anyone, not even my mother, that I went to see him. She died not knowing." "Will you tell me about it?" he asked softly. I exhaled. "My mother had always been open with me about who my father was. I'd known his name from a very young age, but it wasn't until I became internet savvy that I was able to look up his information-where he worked, that kind of thing." I let out a breath of frustration. "I don't know what I was thinking...that maybe if he saw my face, saw the resemblance, he'd finally acknowledge me." I swallowed hard. "What happened?" "I found out he worked in construction for a contractor about thirty minutes away. I told my mother I was going to a lake for the day with my friend Brittany and her family. Instead, Brittany asked her older brother to drive us to the construction site." I shut my eyes. "I thought if I wore the prettiest dress I owned and got myself all dolled up, maybe he'd be happy to see me." I shook my head. "It was delusional." "You thought maybe he wasn't the person your mother thought he was..." Nodding, I shut my eyes as I felt tears start to form. "You don't have to finish the story." I felt his hand on my arm. I opened my eyes. "It's just hard for me to go back to that place. There's no worse rejection than that which comes from the person responsible for your existence. Whenever I look at myself in the mirror, I see him-the face of the man who looked me in the eyes and called me a liar and told me to leave. How do you love yourself when all you can see in that mirror is someone who hates you? When people tell me I'm beautiful, I feel like they're lying." "That's fucked up," he muttered. "I'm so sorry." "The pain that comes from rejection by your own parent is not something that can ever be healed." He looked at me a long moment. "You've said before that you try to beat men to the punch, breaking up with them before they have a chance to hurt you. Is that because you think they're all like him?" I nodded. "I'm sure that's part of it." "Your father is a shit human. And I hate that you see him when you look in the mirror. I obviously don't know what he looks like, but when I look at you, I see the kindest eyes and the most beautiful face. It's your face, no one else's. You can give someone your genes, but that doesn't mean anything. Your spirit is nothing like his." His words felt like a warm blanket. "Thanks," I said. "There's one good thing that came out of that meeting, though..." "What?" "That night I went home and drew for the first time. Despite the pain of the experience, it was the start of a new way to express my feelings. Now I rarely do that any other way than through art." "Except when someone like me forces you to talk about it." He offered a sad smile. "I'm glad you did, because every time I do, it's a reminder that talking about it won't break me. I can talk about it and move on. It's important to let stuff out." I wiped my eyes. "Anyway, thanks for the closet chat." "I should be thanking you for letting me share first. An eye for an eye." He chuckled. "Or an ear for an ear." My emotions threatened to overwhelm me, so I walked out into the bedroom. "I'll see you tomorrow night, right?" "Yeah." He hesitated. "I'll see you then." I wondered, though, if I actually would. Back in my bedroom, I pondered what I was going to wear tomorrow. As I flipped through the closet, I knew my concern had nothing to do with impressing Brandon and everything to do with stealing Dorian's attention. That was a game I apparently didn't mind continuing to play. I just hoped it didn't end with me getting burned. In a romance-themed observation show, several participants undergo a series of interactions and conflicts filled with love, misunderstandings, and power struggles. In the end, one couple rises to over...