headed to the
refrigerator. "You always look so fresh and lovely. It's good that I love
you, otherwise I may be forced to despise you."
Leilani smiled as she kicked her
shoes off with a sigh and sat on a chair. "You're lovely yourself."
"I'm covered in paint
splatters and I have the hair of a teenage softball player." She tugged
her ponytail tighter. "But Mark doesn't seem to mind."
"What don't I mind?"
Sam's husband said as he walked into the kitchen.
"My constantly disheveled
state."
Mark went up behind her and slid
his arms around her waist to nuzzle her neck. "I love your disheveled
state, especially when I'm the one who caused it."
Leilani looked away on a prickle
of jealousy. She missed affection.
Not that her relationship with
Aaron had sizzled the way Mark and Sam's did. He'd been affectionate, but not
like Mark was with Sam. If Leilani hadn't been there, Mark would have laid Sam
on the counter and had his way with her—she could see it in his eyes.
But she and Aaron had known each
other all their lives. Maybe she'd been misled to expect burning passion in
addition to friendship and love. She and Aaron had been more like a warm candle
than the fireworks that Sam and Mark were.
Leilani wanted fireworks. She
wanted someone to want her.
There wasn't a doubt in her mind
that Aaron had loved her, but he hadn't been the most attentive fiancé. He'd
talked about forever, but it'd always been his idea of forever.
She felt the resentment crawl up
her gorge to choke her as she thought about all the times she'd tried to add
her dreams to theirs only to have him smilingly deter her. Her fists clenched
when she remembered talking to him about going to Europe instead of Australia.
He'd listened and gently put her off, making her feel like a bitch for being
annoyed with him when he was so loving about it. Then he'd gone off to
Australia to surf.
And drown.
She wondered if she'd fought him
more and made him go to Europe if he'd still be alive. But he'd never have gone
for that.
"Leilani?"
She looked up to find Sam and
Mark both staring at her in concern. "I got an offer to go to London to
help curate a show," she blurted.
Jumping, Sam clapped her hands.
"That's awesome."
"I don't think I can
go."
"What?" Sam exchanged a
look with Mark.
"You ladies go into the
living room," he said, pulling down glasses. "I'll bring you some
wine and then get going on dinner."
"My hero." Sam kissed
him and waved Leilani to follow her. Once they settled on the couch in the
living room, she said, "Okay, explain yourself to me, woman. Tell me why
you can't go to London."
Leilani took a deep breath,
knowing to say she was afraid wouldn't end well with Sam, so she went with the
obvious. "To curate a show takes time. I can't leave the gallery for that
long."
"Why not? I'm here."
"Yes, but you have your own
art to focus on. Between that and Mark you won't have time to run the gallery
too."
"Sure I will. I forget how
much I love the business side of things until I'm there, in that closet of an
office, pouring over the books. It balances out my artistic side, to express my
business acumen too. You'd be doing me a favor, and this is an excellent PR
opportunity for Wakida Gallery. The gallery in London is a good one, right?"
"A great one. Very well
respected in the international community, and now that I met the owner I know
why."
"That spitfire British lady from
the other day?"
"Yes. Melanie King."
"Based on her excellent
taste in artists alone, I'd say her gallery rocks." Sam grinned. "Seriously
though, tell me what your real reservations are, because you've been talking
about going to London since the second I met you. Does it have to do with
Aaron?"
She nodded. Guilt was the first word that came to mind. Just the fact that she
was even entertaining the idea was awful. She was letting Aaron and his mom and
everyone down. "The surf competition in Aaron's memory is going to be in a
month and a half."
Her friend shrugged. "Just
come
Catherine Cooper, RON, COOPER
Black Treacle Publications