Crazy Stupid Love (Crazy Love #1)(43)

If I had to guess, I would say they are all part of the same thing; similar to a college that is made up of several different buildings only much smaller than that. Despite the fact that it’s mid-afternoon, the entire area seems to be completely vacant. Then again it is Sunday, perhaps it’s just closed today, whatever this is.

Decklan drops my hand just as we reach the back entrance, pulling a set of keys from his pocket and inserting them into the lock without once looking in my direction. I watch him curiously as he pulls open the large steel door, gesturing for me to enter.

The moment the door latches closed I find it near impossible to see anything and my eyes have trouble adjusting from the bright sun outside to the dim interior.

Decklan once again takes my hand, pulling me towards the far wall of what appears to be a large open space. Nothing really comes into view until he flips on a light, and the entire room comes to life in an instant.

I gasp, my mind still trying to process what exactly it’s seeing. Paintings, sculptors, sketches; there is art everywhere. Every wall and empty space of the room is lined with them, stretching from floor to ceiling, tucked in corners; it’s like a book lover walking into the most exquisite library they could ever imagine. The view in front of me is absolutely breathtaking.

“Decklan.” I barely manage to speak his name, my eyes tracing every inch of the large room.

It appears as though this room is the only room, the entire building opened up into one incredible space.

“What is this place?” I finally glance in his direction to find him studying my reaction.

“The S. Hartley Art Gallery,” he says. “This is where Tim Porter brought Rosie on their first date.” A smile spreads across his face.

“But how?” I start, remembering the dinner at the Porters when Gavin’s mom told me the story.

“Tim frequented this gallery for years, bringing Rosie back here every year for their anniversary. The original owner of this gallery passed away just six months after Tim. At the funeral, his daughter gave Rosie a key, said she knew how much the gallery had meant to Tim and she wanted Rosie to be able to visit anytime she wanted. I may have asked to borrow that key,” he tacks on, his grin deepening.

“I don’t know what to say.” I turn, slowly making my way to the far left wall. There’s everything here; abstract, surrealism, expressionism. Each one is more beautiful than the one before it.

“Do you like it?” Decklan finally speaks after a long moment.

“Are you kidding?” I spin to find him standing directly next to me. “It’s incredible. All of it.” I gesture around the room.

“Rosie said most of the pieces here aren’t worth much; painted by students, freelance artists, people whose names that you would likely not recognize.”

“But that’s what makes it so brilliant,” I interject. “The most beautiful pieces are created by an artist who paints for themselves and not for money.” I turn, continuing into the room.

It’s not lost on me the magnitude of this moment. I find it hard to believe that Decklan would do something so personal, so incredible, for just anyone. The thought leaves me with a tight feeling in the pit of my stomach and makes it damn near difficult to breathe.

Glancing to my right, I catch sight of him, his gaze turned upward as he studies a rather devastating piece in front of him. It’s of man, his hands stretched outward as if reaching for something he can’t grasp. Dark clouds swirl through the background, the pain so apparent on the man’s face it’s almost like looking at a live photograph. His emotion seems to jump off the page at you.

“Amazing isn’t it?” I step up next to him, entwining my fingers with his.

“I don’t know much about art.” He shrugs, his eyes not leaving the piece in front of him.

“You don’t have to know much about art to feel the emotion the artist is trying to portray.” I squeeze his hand, pulling his attention to me. “Thank you for this.” My words are barely above a whisper. “Truly.”

“You’re welcome.” The corner of his mouth pulls up in a slow smile just moments before his lips meet mine, the kiss slow and lingering.

The contact causes my insides to burn; my body coming to life under his touch, his kiss. It’s at this moment that the truth becomes undeniably clear. I love him. It’s sudden and powerful and scares me to my core, but I can’t resist it. No matter how badly I want to...

****

“You okay?” Decklan nudges my shoulder with his as we make our way from the small diner where he took me to dinner after leaving the art gallery.

“I am.” I smile up at him, taking his hand when he offers it.

“You’ve been quieter than usual,” he observes.

I hadn’t really realized this fact until now. I guess I’ve just been so preoccupied with my realization earlier this evening that I didn’t even notice. All I can think about is where I go from here, my future, what it would look like with Decklan or worse, without him.

“Sorry. Just tired I guess.” I give him a sweet smile. “I’ve been in the lab for the last three nights trying to finish my final project of the semester. It doesn’t help that Harlee wakes me up at the crack of dawn every morning either. I think I just need to sleep for like two days straight.” My excuse is not completely untrue.