I'm Not Charlotte Lucas(79)

And then I noticed the paintings on the easels, and my heart fell clear to the plush maroon carpet. Because surrounding my ex-boyfriend were a dozen of my own paintings, and I hadn’t given anyone permission to display them.





Chapter Thirty-One


“What’s going on here?” I asked, ignoring the flashing lights in the lobby that indicated we should be taking our seats. I wasn’t going anywhere until I had answers.

Liam stepped forward, approaching with his hand raised like I was a wild animal and he needed to be cautious.

Well, I wasn’t exactly wild yet, but he definitely needed to beware.

“Don’t be angry. I didn’t know how else to prove to you that I wasn’t saying those things about your talent just because I care about you, that I was saying them because they’re true.”

“What are you talking about?” I was proud of how even and dangerous my voice sounded. I hoped he could hear it too. The only things stopping me right now from picking up my version of Darcy and hitting Liam over the head with it were the high-schoolers manning the concessions table and watching us like we were an afternoon telenovela.

Liam swept his arm out to indicate my paintings. “These are good, Charlie. You are good. I wanted you to see that other people agreed with me. Strangers agreed with me. You wouldn’t believe how many people asked me if these were for sale tonight.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” I said, scoffing. “You just went into my studio and took my paintings without asking? And brought them here to display? Can you not see how horrible that was of you?”

“Okay, I can see why you’re mad, but hear me out—”

“No, I don’t have to hear you out. You betrayed me. You violated my trust, Liam, and you didn’t have the right to do this.”

He inched closer. “But, Charlie, the owner—”

“No,” I said, stepping back. Music drifted out of the theater, and I squeezed my eyes shut, commanding the angry tears to retreat. Taking in a deep breath, I faced Liam. “Don’t say another word. The play’s starting. I need to be in there.”

Beth stepped toward us, her eyes wide. She must have just come in and witnessed the tail end of our argument. “Hey,” she said softly. Her gaze flicked between Liam and me, but I didn’t want to explain. “I just got here. Wait, are these yours? I’ve seen them before.”

“It’s starting. Come on.”

Beth didn’t argue with me, and when I turned back for the theater, she was right behind me.

“Whoa,” she whispered as we took our seats.

“Yeah, whoa.”

She leaned in close. “You seem really angry.”

“That’s an understatement.”

She nodded, and we settled in for the second act. My traitorous eyes flicked to the other end of our row every few minutes until the end of the show, and I hated that I was disappointed to find Liam’s seat deserted for the rest of the night.

***

“So lovely!” Mom gushed, pulling Mariah in for a hug. I agreed and hugged my sister, but I wanted to get out of there. I was terrified I’d go back through the lobby and find my paintings—or Liam—still there, and I wanted nothing more than to just get out of the school.

“Are we going out to celebrate?” Dad asked, handing Mariah the flowers.

“Actually, there’s a group heading to Carrow’s,” she said, screwing up her face in apology. “I was thinking of going with them.”

“Sure thing, honey,” Mom said. “We’ll celebrate this weekend. You have fun with your friends.”

Mariah studied my face before turning to Beth. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course,” Beth said, pulling her into a side hug. “I wouldn’t miss it. Your British accent is stunning, by the way. I definitely want to hear more of that in the future.”

Mariah grinned. “Of course, darling,” she said, giving us another taste of her accent. “All those hours Charlie forced me to watch Jane Austen movies really helped me get it down.”

“You’re welcome,” I said.

We hugged Mariah goodbye and left the theater. I was anxious but glad to find the lobby empty of all paintings and Liam—and also oddly bereft. Mom and Dad left us at the front of the school, and Beth grabbed my arm to stop me.

“Listen. I can’t come over tonight. I’ve got a wedding in San Francisco in the morning, and I’ve got to be up at four to drive down there, so I really need to get to bed. Want to talk now?”

“No, I need to process everything that happened. I’m just so angry, but I’m not sure if it’s a gut reaction or valid emotions.”

Her dark eyes glittered. “So Liam brought your paintings and put them on display without asking?”

Beth really was very smart. She caught on so quickly. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

“He wanted to prove to me that I was good, that other people like my work.”

She wrinkled her petite nose. “Okay, well first off, it doesn’t really matter what other people think. If painting brings you joy, paint. If it rips your heart in half and makes it hard for you to function like it did after you graduated, then don’t paint. How you feel is much more important than how other people view your work.”