Sweet Hope (Sweet Home #4)(27)
After seconds of wondering, I finally just f*cking asked. “And what’s that?”
Aliyana took a deep breath, her full tits pushing against her shirt, and met my eyes. “A man who’s protective, strong, dark… artistic, passionate… cultured…” She trailed off, rubbing her pink lips together, and I froze.
Her brown eyes pierced mine like she could see through to my f*cking dark soul. I shifted under her scrutiny and felt my heart begin to race.
Forcing myself to look away, I picked up my brioche and ate it in silence. That fog of tension was back around us again, but I pushed it out of my mind. I just needed to get through this breakfast.
“Can I ask a question?” Aliyana said, and I sat back in my chair, my brioche now demolished. I flicked my chin in response, giving her the okay. “Why don’t you want anyone to know who you are?”
And there it was. The one question everyone wanted to know. Why was Elpidio a recluse?
I shrugged. “Not into the whole fame thing.”
“Then why the exhibition? And why now?” She pushed.
Glancing out over the Puget Sound, I raked my hair back with my fingers. What was I meant to say? I was locked up for distributing ‘class A’ drugs on the University of Alabama’s property, and in the process, nearly ruined my brother’s shot at the NFL. Oh, that’s right, you don’t know. My brother is Austin Carillo, number eighty-three for the Seahawks and regarded one of the best wide receivers in the country. But that’s now. A few years back, I was running a street crew dealing drugs. Oh, and I sold some f*cked-up snow to a Tide player and he OD’d. So I’ve been serving ten years inside but got out a couple weeks ago after only five years because I ratted out a big-time cocaine supplier.
I couldn’t tell her none of that shit, so I answered, “Vin wanted it, and I told him as long as I didn’t have to deal with people, he could do what the f*ck he wanted.”
Aliyana’s head tilted to the side as she regarded me. “And how and where did you meet Vin? I can’t imagine you ran in the same circles.”
If only she knew.
She edged forward, waiting for my answer.
“Around.”
“Around?” she questioned.
“Around,” I said a bit firmer to let her know I wasn’t saying shit.
Slumping back in her chair, she began eating again, only pausing to quietly say, “You’ve gotten me more than intrigued, Elpi.”
My forehead pulled down to a frown.
She must have seen my expression and added, “Your artwork floors me, so tragically beautiful.” My gut clenched as she spoke those words. Tragically beautiful…
She dropped her croissant, letting out a single laugh. “I remember the first time I saw a picture of one of your sculptures. It was a piece in a magazine on Vin Galanti, and he did nothing but talk about his protégé, the reclusive and mysterious Elpidio. He’d just loaned one of your pieces to the Met as part of a marble statue contemporary exhibit, an exhibit of sculptors who still adhered to the old-fashioned hammer and chisel techniques.” Aliyana’s eyes lost their focus as she pushed her fingers through a small pile of sugar granules that had fallen from the packet she’d used earlier.
“Vin showed your first piece, the only work I’d seen in pictures from you.” A tiny smile pulled on her lips. “And the piece that is still my favorite today.”
I knew which one she meant. The only piece I could barely look at now without breaking.
“The angel…” she said, and I could hear the love for it in her voice. I expected to feel the usual slam of grief I never failed to experience whenever I thought of that piece and what it represented.
But Aliyana sitting here now, telling me she loved the piece, that it was her favorite out of all my sculptures, made me feel… proud… humbled… f*cking floored. Floored that out of everything I’d created, Aliyana loved my mamma’s dedication most.
“I was in Austin, Texas, at The Blanton Museum of Art, but when I learned that your piece would be at the Met, I jumped on a plane and flew out for a whistle-stop stay of forty-eight hours just to see it up close.” She laughed. “The same thing I did to get this job actually.”
That blush was back on her cheeks, only this time I enjoyed every dip of her eyes, the flush of her cheeks, the quiet sighs she exhaled. I was just enjoying Aliyana, period.
“It sounds stupid, Elpi, but seeing your angel changed me. I don’t know what it was, but… but… ah, it doesn’t matter,” she said in embarrassment.
“Tell me,” I ordered gruffly. I really needed her to finish that f*cking sentence. I needed to understand what she saw in my sculptures that had her so moved.
Aliyana took a long, drawn-out swallow but met my gaze with her brown eyes and said, “I felt you. I felt you in its every curve. I felt like I was looking straight into your soul. I felt the love you poured into that sculpture… It made me reassess everything in my life… It made me want more… it’s difficult for me to explain.”
I sucked in a sharp breath, my hands moving upward to rub over my eyes. “Aliyana…” I growled out, but not from anger, but from the fact that she was telling me things I didn’t deserve… that she didn’t want to get wrapped up in.
“Did I say too much?”