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  “We both did make some pretty epic mistakes.”

  Siobhan shook her head. “That’s where you’re wrong, Derick. Nothing between us was ever a mistake.”

  He didn’t respond to that, and she really didn’t want him to. She managed to keep the tears from falling through the elevator ride and the walk out of his building. But as her feet hit the sidewalk, the dam broke.

  Siobhan had always been able to pick herself up no matter how difficult the circumstances were, but this time, she truly didn’t know if she’d be able to get past what she’d cost herself. Because ultimately, how valuable was a lost diamond when the one who had treasured it most didn’t want it anymore?

  Chapter 18

  God, that’s so depressing,” Marnel said, putting her lemon water back down on the table.

  Siobhan glared at her as she pushed her hands through her hair and rested her head between them. “Can you please stop saying that?”

  Marnel shrugged. “I call it like I see it. Start telling some stories that are a little more uplifting and maybe you’ll get a different response.”

  Cory elbowed her. “Show some compassion.”

  “So I’m confused,” Blaine said. “It wasn’t make-up sex?”

  Siobhan huffed and pushed off of her elbows. “No. It was probably more like…” She shook her head as she searched it for an accurate description. “Like ‘I can’t help myself even though I know this is a terrible idea’ sex.”

  “It’s not,” Cory said. “He wants you. He wouldn’t have had sex with you if he didn’t. He just doesn’t want to want you. And he probably doesn’t believe you’ll love him unconditionally. Every time he does something too over-the-top you reject him. Then he has to come crawling back. All that groveling probably gets tiring, not to mention somewhat emasculating,” she added.

  “Thanks for that,” Siobhan deadpanned. “That makes me feel more awesome than I already do,” she said.

  “Seriously, though,” Cory continued. “You’ve said all this before. There’s gotta come a point when he stops believing it.”

  “Yeah,” Marnel said. “Actions speak louder than words and all that. You gotta show him that you’re willing to accept him completely.”

  Siobhan looked to the other girls, who seemed to agree. “What am I supposed to do?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” Marnel said. “But you need to do something. Otherwise your relationship is gonna keep playing out like that Justin Bieber song.” Marnel smiled, clearly pleased with the connection she’d made. “It’s too late now to say you’re sorry, Siobhan. Speaking of that, pretty soon Saul’s not going to accept your sorrys either. I can’t believe he bought that you were sick when you ran out of there the other night. Wait…did you have, what did you call it? ‘I can’t help myself even though this is a horrible idea sex’ with Saul, too?”

  Siobhan stared at her silently for a few seconds before she spoke. “I despise you,” she said, causing all of the girls to erupt in a fit of laughter.

  Marnel cocked her head to the side, looking confused. “You love me.”

  And Siobhan couldn’t help but smile. She really did.

  Chapter 19

  Derick couldn’t believe what he was looking at. This was the worst déjà vu he’d ever experienced. He brushed his thumb over the cardstock, unable to stop staring at the invitation he’d just received for the Lost Diamond. Why would she send another one?

  Shaking his head, he flicked the invitation toward the table. It missed and fell to the ground, which caused him to see writing on the back. He snatched it back up and read the neatly printed words.

  You’ve given me so many declarations of your love, I lost count of all of them. Allow me to return the favor, even if it’s just this once. You don’t owe it to me to come, but I hope you will anyway.

  Love always,

  Siobhan

  Derick walked to the couch and dropped onto it, the invitation still in his hands. He reread the message over and over again. When he’d finally had enough, he was left with only one question. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

  Chapter 20

  The previous three weeks had been the busiest of Siobhan’s life, but as she stood back and looked over the crowd that had packed into the Lost Diamond, she knew it had all been worth it.

  The sound of Kayla’s voice startled her. “Siobhan,” she said, her voice light and singsongy.

  Siobhan looked over her shoulder to see Kayla nearly bouncing with joy. Siobhan hadn’t even thought it was possible to jump that high in five-inch heels. “Yes,” she sang back, somehow dragging out the word into multiple syllables.

  “Whatcha up to?”

  “I was…having a moment, I guess you could say.” She still couldn’t believe this night was actually happening.

  Kayla threw her arm around Siobhan excitedly. “Well, I’m interrupting your moment to give you an update.”

  Siobhan raised her eyebrows. “An update?”

  “Yeah. Ricardo just sold his first painting. Like ever. And he’s flipping out right now.”

  “Really? That’s fantastic!” She remembered what that felt like—for someone else to think you’re talented, worthy. Unfortunately, that memory brought up another, less pleasant one. But as quickly as it popped into her head, she dismissed it. She only wanted happiness for Ricardo. “I need to go congratulate him,” she said, peering around the crowd to see him speaking to someone and grinning widely.

  “You can do that later,” Kayla replied, grabbing onto Siobhan’s bicep and spinning her in the other direction. “You see that guy over there? The one in the dark-gray suit?”

  “There are like three guys in dark-gray suits. Who am I looking at?”

  “Gray hair. Two o’clock,” Kayla said. “But don’t make it obvious that you’re looking at him.”

  “You just told me to look at him.”

  Kayla shook her head and sighed. “Yeah, look. But don’t make it obvious. That’s Stephen Ramsey.”

  Siobhan’s eyes widened so far she thought they might pop out of her head. “Holy shit! I didn’t even see him come in.” What the hell was one of the city’s well-known art critics doing at her small gallery opening?

  “At first, I didn’t see him, either. I just noticed him a few minutes ago. The woman he’s with must be another critic. I heard them talking, and they love your work. You should go introduce yourself.”

  “What should I say?”

  “Your name’s a good start.”

  “Annnd then I’ll just stare awkwardly until the silence gets so uncomfortable that they walk away.”

  “That’s probably not a good tactic,” Kayla said.

  “Thanks. I figured.” Siobhan picked up a glass of champagne from a nearby tray. “I need a drink. And I need something to do with my hands. I never know what to do with them when I talk to people.” She downed about half the glass and turned toward Kayla. “Okay, okay, okay,” she said quickly. “I’m going over. Wish me luck.”

  Kayla put her hands on Siobhan’s arms and looked her in the eyes. “Good luck,” she said, taking note of Siobhan’s free hand that was rubbing itself nervously. “You’re gonna need it. You really are awkward as hell.”

  “Not helping,” Siobhan joked, before turning toward the critics and plastering on what she hoped was a confident and relaxed smile.

  She extended her hand as she approached. “Mr. Ramsey, thank you so much for coming. I’m Siobhan Dempsey, the owner of the Lost Diamond.”

  Mr. Ramsey smiled and shook her hand firmly. “Siobhan, lovely to meet you. Please call me Stephen.” He gestured around the room. “You’ve done a wonderful job with your gallery. Allow me to introduce you to my colleagues.”

  Once they’d gone through the introductions, Siobhan felt like she was going to levitate with a mixture of excitement and anxiety.

  “We saw your pieces. I must say, I haven’t seen paintings with that much emotion packed into a canvas in a long time.”


  Siobhan tried not to blush at Stephen’s compliment. “Thank you. It’s been…a labor of love.”

  Stephen and the other critics nodded. “I hope you don’t mind if I find you in a bit and ask for a quote to put with my review.”

  “Of course.” Siobhan laughed in an attempt to hide the fact that she’d nearly swallowed her tongue at his words.

  Stephen patted her on the arm. “Good. You are quite gifted, Siobhan. New York is lucky to have you back.”

  Siobhan watched the group drift away, stunned not only by the fact that Stephen liked her work but also that he was aware that she had left the city and then returned.

  During the next couple of hours, people continued to congratulate her and the other artists. And a few more paintings sold.

  All in all, the night was turning out to be a huge success.

  Yet there was one thing missing.

  “Has he shown up yet?” Cory asked as she sidled up to Siobhan and handed her a glass of champagne, which Siobhan happily took.

  “No.”

  Cory bumped Siobhan’s shoulder softly. “He will.”

  Siobhan smiled gratefully at her friend. “No. He probably won’t.” She reached out to squeeze Cory’s shoulder, thankful for the support, before leaving to mingle.

  As she talked with her guests, Siobhan realized that she’d gotten exactly what she deserved. She’d spent three weeks putting her “grand gesture” together. It was fitting that Derick would never see it, since she’d never let him show her any of his grand gestures, either.

  Chapter 21

  Derick really didn’t know what the hell he was doing at the gallery. He’d talked himself out of going at least fifteen times. Yet here he was, succumbing to his own stupid curiosity even though it would likely cost him his sanity.

  He scanned the crowd, but didn’t see Siobhan. He wasn’t sure if he was happy or sad at that.

  “What you’re looking for is in the back.”

  Derick whirled around toward the voice and saw Marnel standing behind him, a gentle smile on her lips. He sighed and said, “I’m not sure what I’m even looking for.”

  “Then I guess you’ll have to have faith that I do.”

  She was gone before he could reply, and Derick found himself moving toward the back of the gallery. The first thing he saw was Siobhan’s name written in bold black letters on the wall above a series of paintings that spanned the entire rear wall.

  Why would Marnel send him back here? He’d already seen these paintings—had already had enough problems caused by them.

  But when he actually looked at the art on the wall, he realized that the paintings hanging in front of him weren’t the ones he’d bought. “What the hell,” he whispered to himself.

  He started by looking at the painting on the far left, which he guessed was meant to be viewed first. He was right. It was a picture of a man catching a girl before she fell. The background colors were muted and streaked, allowing the brightness and stillness of the two figures to stand out in stark contrast to the life that kept moving on around them. The figures gazed at each other, time stopping for them even though the rest of the world was a blur of color. Derick’s eyes flicked to the placard beside it, and he read the title: Fated to Fall.

  Moving to the next one, he saw a man holding court among a flock of old ladies. They were all smiling as they sat beside their easels. Everyone was engaged except for one figure—a young woman standing slightly apart, wearing a small smile on her face as she watched the scene unfold. A Central Focus.

  Derick kept moving through the paintings, watching his and Siobhan’s love story unfold before him. Every major moment between them was accounted for. Their tour to the top of the Empire State Building—Penny Wishes; their lunch at Burger Joint—Hidden Truths; their rooftop dinner at the Met with the fireworks in the background—Illumination of Love.

  Then he came to one that stopped him short. He and Siobhan were in it, but they were surrounded by vibrant colors. Pictures swirled around them—elements of the paintings Derick had bought. The woman was holding her hands out, handing the man something. Derick had to move closer to see what it was, and his breath caught when he finally saw it. Her heart.

  His eyes looked frantically for the title: Lost to You.

  Part of him didn’t want to see any more, but he knew he had to see it through. She’d painted herself looking into a window and seeing his reflection. The next depicted Derick’s arm wrapped around her as they stood on the shore of Belle Isle. Another showed him wrapping a robe around her as a group of painters looked on.

  Then he arrived at the one he knew would be there but had hoped wasn’t. It was a painting of the gallery. Derick was to the far right, barely on the canvas. His arm was outstretched toward Siobhan, but her back was to him as she entered the building. The title was self-explanatory: The Lost Diamond.

  The next one was unlike any of the others. It was a riot of colors and seemed almost abstract until he looked at it more closely. That’s when he made out the naked limbs among the swirling mixture of paints and textures. Derick still wasn’t sure what he was seeing until he looked at the title: Chaotic Passion.

  It was their last time together, the encounter Derick had callously called a mistake. He wasn’t sure if he was interpreting the painting correctly or not, but as he looked at the two figures, it felt as if they were almost completely concealed by layers of paint and color.

  Because, ultimately, he and Siobhan had allowed themselves to be obscured by all the emotions they’d carried since the beginning, hadn’t they? How could their relationship ever have stood a chance when it was blanketed by the chaos of the burdens and resentments and pain they’d both collected along the way?

  It took a jumble of paint on a canvas for him to finally see things clearly.

  Derick looked to his right where the last canvas rested. But this one—titled The Future—was blank.

  “I wasn’t sure what to put there yet.”

  Derick didn’t bother to turn around. He knew who had spoken.

  “Me neither,” he replied.

  Chapter 22

  Siobhan could only manage shallow breaths as her heart expanded and took up all the available room in her chest. She tried to read his body language, but with his tailored suit and his back to her, she couldn’t get any sense of how he felt.

  He had sounded genuinely unsure. But, against her better judgment, she let a shred of hope seep into her. Because if he didn’t know what the future held for him, maybe there was a chance that Siobhan could still be part of it.

  He rubbed a hand over his beard as he continued to stare at her paintings. “Seeing all this, laid out like this…it’s hard to believe we’ve known each other for less than a year. This is a lot to have gone through.”

  Siobhan nodded even though he couldn’t see her. The truth was, despite the fact that she’d created the paintings for Derick, a part of her had thought he would never actually get to see them. “I think the depth of our feelings for each other came on so quickly that we condensed years of relationship-building into months.”

  Letting out a short laugh, Derick turned his head slightly and flicked his eyes in her direction before facing the wall again. “We’ve definitely put each other through the wringer.”

  Not being able to stand the distance any longer, Siobhan moved next to him. “Yeah, we have. But it was funny. When I was conceptualizing all of this, I felt like the bad moments would be where I’d feel the most emotion. That reliving them would be the most painful.” She turned and looked at him. “But they weren’t.” She gestured down toward the first few paintings. “The good memories were the hardest to paint because I knew I might never experience any more of them.”

  “Listen, Siobhan, I get—”

  But she lifted a hand to stop him. What she was saying wasn’t an excuse or a plea. It was merely a simple truth she’d uncovered as she’d painted their story. And she needed to share it with him before any other words wer
e said. “When we fight, we fight hard.” She shrugged. “We’re passionate people, Derick. We’re opinionated, stubborn, and, at times, downright infuriating.”

  He let out a soft chuckle at her description.

  She grabbed the fabric covering his bicep and tugged until he turned to face her fully. “But we’re also dedicated. To our careers, to carving out the best life possible for ourselves, and—whether we like it or not—to each other.”

  Derick’s eyes drifted away from hers but he didn’t dispute what she’d said.

  Siobhan pointed at the blank canvas. “If you can look at that—if you can think about your future—and see someone else there, then I’ll walk away right now and never bother you again. But I need you to know that I can’t imagine anyone else in that picture with me. And I really don’t want that”—she gestured to the painting of the disconnected limbs lost in the fray of color—“to be how we end.”

  She stepped in front of him, partially obstructing his view of the art on the wall. Cutting off his gaze from what was, and hopefully directing it on what could be. “I know that I’ve told you that I’ll accept you as you are so many times and I haven’t. So I started painting this exhibit to show you that words aren’t enough for me to show you how I feel. I’m capable of more than that. I know that everything you’ve ever done for me has been because you loved me and wanted to support me. And for once, I wanted to accept your gift and show that I was grateful for it. You bought me a gallery to show me your love.” Siobhan turned her head briefly to the paintings behind her. “And I filled it with paintings of how that love came to be.

  “As I painted, I realized that our love might not be easy or convenient or perfect. But it’s ours. We created it together. I don’t want to scrap it just because it’s not always as pretty as we initially pictured it to be.”

  And there it was, everything Siobhan felt in her heart splayed out for him. He could do whatever he wanted with it. As vulnerable as it made her, Siobhan had never felt freer. At least if he walked away, he would walk away knowing exactly where she stood.