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Chapter Twenty-Eight

Cameron

I get a full two weeks at home this time. It’s rare I’m in one place for so long, but to be fair, I did choose this lifestyle. I make sure my life is busy and there’s always something to do. First, it was about the money, and when I had so much of that I didn’t know what to do with it, it became more about keeping my mind busy. I can’t get lost in bad thoughts if I’m always talking to people and turning this way and smiling that way.

But since I’m home for so long, it’s about time I get familiar with the city I live in. New York is a beautiful place, and though I’ve been here and there, it’s all been for work. When it comes to my personal life, all I’ve done around here is grab food and hide away in my penthouse apartment.

I’m not sure what brings me to the Met on a Friday night. No doubt it’ll be packed, but what else is there to do around here? Okay, well, there’s a ton of things to do in NYC on a Friday night, but nothing that’s appealing.

I head inside, purchase my ticket, and then I’m on my way. It’s a little pathetic that I’ve never been here before, considering this city has officially been my home for almost five years. I get lost in the art, ignoring that there are people everywhere. They all are lost to me as I gaze from painting to statue and back to more paintings. They’re all so beautiful and truly amazing. I think I could spend a full week in here and not tire of it.

There are tons of paintings in here I want to see, and with the amount of time I’m spending looking at each one, I’m not sure I’ll get to them all. But there is one on my list that I must see, one that holds a special place in my heart. It’s hard to say why, but ever since the first time I saw it in one of my early art classes, I’ve thought of it often.

In my opinion, Study of a Nude Man is one of the most beautiful pieces of work I’ve ever laid eyes on. And maybe it’s because I spent so much time studying the body when it comes to drawing and painting. I modeled for years for students to learn, and took extra classes because painting people was one of my favorite things to do. But this painting… to see it in person is going to be an absolute privilege.

I head down the hall and turn into room 809. The air leaves my lungs as soon as I step into the room, only it isn’t because of the painting. I wish it was because of the painting, but…

There’s no possible way I’m seeing what I think I’m seeing.

Why in the world would Austen be here?

Looking at this painting at the exact time I am, no less. Did he seek it out? Did he remember it’s one of my favorites? I doubt it. I’m not sure I ever mentioned it to him, and if I did, he likely wouldn’t remember. Austen is talented when it comes to drawing, but he isn’t an art nerd the way I am. He doesn’t know art the way I do.

As far as I know, Austen doesn’t know where I live. Even if he did, there is no way in the world he would know I was coming here today. And, considering he’s already here, I’m the one who showed up after him.

What are the odds?

Slim to none, if I had to guess, yet… here he is. Standing in front of my favorite painting, looking at it with awe and wonder.

The soft display lights above him make the natural highlights in his hair brighter, and I notice for the first time how long and full it is. His shoulders are loose, his blue button down sleeves rolled up to the elbow, showcasing his toned forearms as he slips his hands into his pockets.

This has to mean something, right? Like the universe is trying to pull us together, or something? As I stand here now, I think maybe it’s time to listen.

“Austen?” I say when I snap out of my shock and step closer.

He turns to face me, and I can’t help but huff out a disbelieving laugh. It’s him. It’s actually him.

“Hey,” he says, surely just as shocked as me.

I can’t help but smile, something in my chest lightens and everything gets a little fuzzy.

“Hey,” I repeat.

I step up to his side and pull my gaze from him to look at the painting. I feel his eyes on me, but I let him stare. As surprised as I am to see him here, I can’t pull away from the masterpiece in front of me. The colors, the perfection in which Courbet captures the dips and curves of the muscles… it’s breathtaking.

“How is this happening?” Austen asks breathlessly.

All I can do is shrug. I turn to him, giving him a small smile.

“I can’t begin to answer that,” I say.

He shakes his head and I turn back to the painting, not ready to let it go.

“This is a beautiful piece,” he comments. The sincerity in his voice is unmistakable.

I nod. “One of, if not my most, favorite,” I answer.

“It’s so simple yet…”

“There’s so much detail. Like a photograph.”

“Yeah…” he says wistfully, his body moving the slightest bit closer to mine as he shifts his weight.

We stay there, side by side, for a long while, just taking in the painting. People pass us, stop and look, share conversation, but we don’t move. We take our time, and this moment somehow feels important, so I just let it be.

“Where are you going next?” Austen asks when I finally pull my gaze from the painting and step back.

“I would love to see Roman Charity , but I believe that’s down a few hallways.” I look around, noting the gallery numbers around us. “But I do believe An Eruption of Vesuvius is just in the other room over here, and seeing that would be great.”

“Do you mind if I join you?” He’s almost shy as he asks, and I can’t help but smile.

“That would be nice.”

We make our way through the rooms, stopping frequently to take in the artwork. There is so much and it’s all so beautiful. As we walk the halls to make our way toward the 600s, Austen speaks again.

“I have no idea why I decided to come here today,” he says.

“Honestly? Me either.”

“Weird coincidence.”

“I’ll say.”

I lead him through the rooms, wanting to see this next painting. Of course, I want to see them all, but Roman Charity was also on my list of must-see.

I spot it right away and head over.

“Oh wow,” Austen says. “Is he, uh…”

“Yep,” I say, pointing to the painting. “This is the young woman’s father, Cimon. He was put in prison to die of starvation. Pero, the daughter, would visit him and breastfeed him to keep him nourished.”

“That’s, uh…” He scratches the back of his neck. I get that art makes some people uncomfortable, especially something like this, when you see an old man drinking from a young woman’s breast. This is the sort of kinky thing that people get up in arm’s about nowadays, but this has nothing to do with sex. It has to do with a young woman’s love for her father. It’s sweet and beautiful.

“It’s a wonderful example of human kindness and affection.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Austen says, causing me to chuckle.

I roll my eyes, and we move on, because he doesn’t get it.

“So, why are you in New York?” I ask as we make our way through the different galleries.

“Savannah’s been working on this deal with these Italian designers for a while, angling for a promotion. The production manager is out on maternity leave, so they called her to fill in. I came to surprise her while she’s running her first shoot, on her own, but also, I…” He purses his lips.

“What?” I say as I come to stop, my heart pounding suddenly. Is he going to tell me he came here for me?

“I’m looking at property.”

My brows shoot into my hairline. “To live?”

“No,” he says. “For work.”

“Oh… But wouldn’t you need to live here too, then?”

“If I find a building suitable for my needs, then yeah, but I’m not there yet.”

It seems like he doesn’t really want to talk about this, so I don’t push it.

We stay at the museum until it closes. It’s dark when we get outside, but New York is still very much awake and alive. The city that never sleeps…

“I’m guessing you need to get back to Savannah?” I say, shoving my hands in my pockets.

“Actually, she doesn’t know I’m here… yet.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I kinda wanted to spend the day with myself,” he says, a sheepish smirk playing on his lips. God, that smile is a killer.

“Sorry I ruined that for you.”

“You didn’t,” he says quickly. “Seriously, Cameron, this was nice. It felt almost…” He sighs.

“Almost like what?” I ask, though I’m pretty sure I know what he’s going to say.

“Like the old days?”

I smirk. “I didn’t hate it.”

He smiles in return. “Maybe we could do it again? Before I leave.”

I look around, rocking back on my heels. “Are you hungry?”

“What?”

“Food, Austen. I know this great little hole in the wall. Best sushi you’ll ever have.”

“Best?” he questions. “I don’t know about that.”

“Trust me, it’s way better than Bamboo Inn back home.”

His eyes narrow and I raise my brow, waiting for an answer.

“Okay, but if I end up shitting in the street like Maya Rudolph in Bridesmaids, I’m gonna be pissed.”

I grin. “Guess it’s a good thing you’re already married. No trying on wedding dresses.”

Austen barks out a laugh.

We make our way down the steps and I lead us to the restaurant. If you had asked what I’d be doing tonight, not in a million years would I think it would be this.