Page 139 of The Compass Series

STELLA

“ B reathe, Stella, breathe,” I murmured to myself.

I was a basket of nerves the day of the art showcase.

It wasn’t getting any better, seeing how I hadn’t been able to get in contact with Jeff all day.

He had a show the night before, and I knew it took him a while to regroup after his DJing jobs, but I’d hoped he wouldn’t have partied as hard knowing the biggest day of my career was happening the following evening.

Stella: Where are you?

I’d already texted Jeff four times and called him five, with no response.

“He’sgoing to come. There’s no way he would stand me up today of all days. I'm sure his phone just died.I’m sure there’s a reason for him not being here on the day that means the most to me.”

I stood in front of the bathroom mirror at my gallery show, trying to shake off all my nerves and trying to shake off the fact that Jeff hadn’t arrived yet.

It was a quarter past nine and the show began at eight.

Yet still, my boyfriend was nowhere to be found.

I had to stop hiding in the bathroom. Otherwise, peoplewould start to wonder why the artist was not walking around her own display.

“Stella? Someone who just arrived says they’re waiting to see you. I’m guessing it’s your boyfriend,” Marie, the organizer of the event,said from outside the bathroom door.

I swung the door open, feelingthe butterflies in the pit of my stomachintensifying with knowing that Jeff had finally arrived. I wanted to be angry with him for being late, but all I really cared about was sharing my artwork with someone I cared about.

“He’s here?”I asked, swinging to open the bathroom door.

I smoothed my hands over my white gown and felt my cheeks hurting from smiling so hard from the idea that he had arrived.

I felt as if thisgallery show was so important for me to share with Jeff because it felt like nothing more than a dream for so long.

I felt as if I finally had something to show him.

Something for him to be proud of. Something to prove that I was taking my career seriously, just as he did his own.

“Yes, he's here. Also, I’m shocked that you left out how good-looking he is. Like my gosh,that is a good-looking piece of man.” Marie tossed her hands up in surrender. “But just to be clear, I would never hit on him. I have my ownmanto do that with,” she joked.

I thanked Marie for notifying me ofJeff’sarrival,yet when I walked out of the bathroom, I was shockedto see that my boyfriend was nowhere to be found.

Yet in front of me was a very well-dressed husband of mine.

Damian stood there dressed to the nines as he always did, looking around at the gallery of artwork on the walls.

After shaking off the fact that my boyfriend was nowhere to be found, I walked over toDamian to greet him.“Beast,” I said,standing behind him as he stared at one of my favorite pieces. It was titled Blue .“You came.”

“I gave you my word.”

“If only others’ words meant as much as yours,” I muttered.

He raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

I shook my head and pushed out a smile. “Never mind. Is Kelsey with you?”

“We went to dinner but decided not to attend together.”

“Oh no, is everything okay between you two? She had so many good things to say about you?—”

“I’d rather not speak about her.”

I frowned, feeling as if something went wrong somehow, but I didn’t want to push him. I knew enough about Damian to know that when he was pushed, he clammed up. “I can show you around.”

“Okay.”

We began walking around the gallery, and whenever he’d compliment my work, I’d think about hugging him. Instead, I said, “Thanks for coming tonight.”

“It’s important to you.”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s an honor to be invited.”

Oh, Damian.

I tried to ignore the skipping beats of my heart.

For a hardened beast, he sure had his moments of softness.

“So, the theme of the series tonight is grief. I started years ago, when I was only a little girl, after my mother passed away. Then I finished the final piece after Kevin’s passing.

I use a mixture of charcoals and acrylics to make it come together.

I recently got into paint pouring, but none of those pieces made it into the final choices for tonight because I don’t feel confident enough in the techniques to showcase them to anyone. ”

“If they are even half as good as these, then you’re holding on to masterpieces.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Was that a compliment from the Beast?”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“My ego is already inflating.”

A tiny smile hit the corners of his mouth, but he dropped it just as fast. “How many have you sold?”

“None yet. Honestly, I might not sell any. A handful of people have stopped in, but none found the need to purchase. Which is fine. It’s just exciting to have people viewing my work. Plus, it’s probably my fault. I should’ve dropped the prices. I’m probably overselling myself.”

Damian lowered his brows as he stared my way, then he stepped closer to the painting to look at the price tag.

He huffed. “You should’ve charged more. You’re worth more than that.”

My heart did that skipping thing again.

“Have you handed out QR codes to the individuals coming in and out of the space?”

“No. I told them my website where they can purchase pieces, though.”

He frowned in disappointment. “People are lazy. Even worse than their laziness, they have the focus of toddlers. Society would convince you that humans grow out of the toddler stage of life, but honestly, they just get taller and still act like children. They need things to be right in their faces, or their focus shifts.”

“I agree. But with the short notice of the show?—”

“Next time, come to me,” he offered. “I have one of the best assistants in the world. He can get everything done for you.”

“I… wow. Damian, thank you. That’s a truly amazing offer.”

“Business cards.”

“What?”

“Do you have business cards?”

“No… not yet.”

He sighed and muttered something under his breath. Damian cleared his throat and slid his hands back into his pockets. Just then, a few individuals walked through the front door. His stare shifted toward them.

“I can look around on my own. You go entertain your guests,” he said.

“Right, of course. Well, if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

“Newsletters,” he replied.

I arched an eyebrow. He sighed. “Get them to sign up for your newsletter.”

“I don’t have a newsletter.”

“You will after today. Jot their emails down on a piece of paper.”

I smiled his way and did as he said. Everyone who came afterward shared their email addresses with me when they entered.

I was thankful for the small collection I’d received.

Damian stayed the whole time for the gallery, keeping to himself and studying each piece for an extended period of time as if they were telling him a whole story.

When the event ended, he was the last one there, outside of the other artists and me.

He walked my way and smoothed out his suit. “Thank you for having me, Stella.”

“Thank you for coming. It means a lot to me.”

His mouth parted as if he had something more to say, but he shut it. Then followed up his unspoken words with, “I will see you once you’re home.” He pushed open the front door.

“Damian, wait. What were you going to say?”

“Nothing. It’s none of my business.”

“What’s none of your business?”

“Stella, it doesn’t matter.”

“But if it mattered to me?” I urged.

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck with the palm of his hand. “Where is Jeff?”

“I… I’m not sure.” I felt the emotions hitting my eyes as it set in that I had my first gallery show, and Jeff didn’t show up. “I’m sure something came up.”

“Don’t cry.”

“I’m a Pisces sun, Cancer moon, and Gemini rising, Damian.”

“I have no clue what the hell you just said,” he deadpanned. “But it sounded very Maple-like.”

“Very Maple-like indeed.” I snickered at his confusion. “It just means that crying is kind of what I do.”

“At least waste your tears on something that matters.”

I pushed out an emotional smile and wiped my tears away. “Have a good night, Damian.”

He turned to open the door once more and then looked back at me, letting it close again.

“I know we started off on the wrong foot, and I know I am not the easiest of persons to ever get to know. I’m not a good person, but…

you are. You’re worth showing up for, Stella.

Anyone who doesn’t show up for you doesn’t deserve your tears. ”

He exited the gallery, leaving me with a wild heart and a few remaining tears.

Marie walked over to me and smiled. “Seriously, Stella. Your boyfriend is so hot.”

“That’s not my boyfriend.”

“Oh?”

“It’s my husband.”

Within seconds, I was calling his name. “Damian, wait!” I exclaimed, racing out of the building toward him. He turned to look at me, and those ocean blues of his looked devastatingly hurt. His expression surprised me a little as I walked closer to him. “Wait, what’s wrong?”

He cleared his throat and shook his head. “Nothing.”

“You’re lying. What’s wrong? Are you okay?” I asked. Without thought, my hand landed on his forearm. He looked down at our touch, then raised his head to look at me. He appeared on the verge of showing more emotion than I knew was possible to receive from him.

His lips parted, and he flicked his thumb against the bridge of his nose. “You’re a good person, Stella.”

My heartbeats… momentarily controlled by him.

“Thank you, Damian.”

“No.” He shook his head. “You don’t understand. You’re a really good person. You see the good everywhere and in everyone, but they don’t all deserve it.”

“Damian—”