Embrace My Heart(36)
Qasim burst into laughter despite how deeply his old friend had rattled his nerves the night before. “I very much want to change my ‘just friends’ status with her,” he admitted because it felt so damn good to say it to someone.
Will moved another step closer to the desk. “So what’s stopping you?”
“The fact that I’m an idiot probably has a lot to do with it.”
Will took his turn at bursting into laughter before he sobered. “You know, Sim, unless you plan on threatening to break in half every guy who acts interested in the lovely Ms. Bauer, you’d do well to stake your claim. Women like that don’t remain unattached for long.”
“I understand and agree.” Qasim commenced rubbing his eyes again.
“Apologies for the nosiness, man.” Will gave another cautious wave. “I only wanted to come by and explain myself. I can’t afford to lose another job over something stupid coming out of my mouth.” He shrugged. “Guess I just need to think twice before I stop attending my AA meetings, after all.”
“We’re good, man. Your job is safe.”
“I appreciate it, Sim.” Will’s nod was reverent. “I’ll catch you later, man. Hey, you want to grab dinner after work?” he asked.
“Plans tonight, but catch me another time?”
“Count on it.” Will gave an airy salute and left the office soon after.
Qasim tried to focus on one of the folders containing items that needed his reply and signature by day’s end. He had been working for ten minutes when he recalled that he hadn’t seen Will drink a thing the night before.
“You know you’re free to get more outrageous with the décor, Yancey. We’ve had artists take our ‘design your own theme’ offers to some pretty wild places.”
Yancey Croachman laughed. “I can imagine!” Her pale blue eyes sparkled as she looked around the bright, spacious elegance of Gallery V. After a few moments, however, her smile waned.
“There was a time I would’ve been the wildest of the bunch. Just ask Cooper,” Yancey said, referring to her agent. “My mood now has definitely mellowed.” She clasped her hands to a surprisingly ample chest for someone her size. “The work in this latest collection needs a mellow environment in order to sing. The hidden jewels nestled inside all the overt busyness of the pieces pop even more when uncovered while the observer is enveloped in a peaceful oasis.”
Vectra, her cheek propped against her fist, began to shake her head dazedly. “Wow...you’re sure to leave this showing a millionaire with a sales pitch like that. I can’t imagine a buyer not wanting to have one of these pieces on a wall in their favorite room.”
Yancey’s expression, while serene, glinted with an element that made her seem far older. “I came from a place that was all too real for me. It’s taken me a long time to get here.”
Vectra’s brow furrowed just slightly. She felt somewhat eclipsed by the solemn manner that wafted about the young artist. “You sound like you’ve got quite a story to tell,” she noted.
Yancey shrugged. “It was one I was glad to see end.” She closed her eyes briefly. “I was in an abusive relationship—high school sweethearts, hmph. Started our junior year in high school, lasted through college. Our mothers were friends. I knew him since playpens and diapers.”
“Yancey, I—” Vectra felt her stomach muscles clenching. “I’m sorry.”
Yancey’s smile was surprisingly serene. “When I was finally able to draw myself out of the wicked spell I was under and see that it was my life I was jeopardizing, I was able to stop being ruled by everybody else’s image of us. We were the adorable childhood sweethearts destined to be adult soul mates. Anyway...that’s when the rest of my life began.”
Yancey sighed approvingly and turned back to the canvas she and Vectra stood closest to. She gave a wave. “That’s where all this comes from.”
“Would you do it again, Yancey?” Vectra didn’t mean to voice the question aloud. She wanted—needed—to hear the other woman’s answer. “Would you get serious?” she asked. “Really serious about another man? Could you? After something like that?”
Yancey folded her arms over her chest, hiding a portion of the Canadian flag emblazoned across the T-shirt she sported with faded jeans. She rocked to and fro, appearing to contemplate her answer.
“I’ve believed for a long time now that living, wanting to live, is the best therapy.” Light returned, full-blown, into her bright gaze. “I hope there will be another chance to do it again, because I plan to give it my all and do it better than it’s ever been done before.”