A.N - Man, I saw this painting that looks almost exactly like the one I described in Chapter 2. I was shocked. Amazing what happens when you go to Blackpool. Please bear with me on this chapter. Have faith in me!

Chapter 10

"Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you mad."

- Aldous Huxley (English writer 1894 - 1963)

Jesse looked uncomfortable. Well, so he should. Here we are, standing in front of what I think is his best painting, and I've just been told that my boyfriend is the artist that I fell in love with on my first day here.

And Paul Slater was the one to tell me the truth.

Suddenly, I was angry. Though at Paul more then Jesse - even so, Jesse was definitely not going to get away with this. Just, right now, I was going to focus my anger on Paul, who was standing next to Jesse, chuckling.

"You." I spat at him, causing him to stop abruptly mid-chuckle and for Jesse's face to twist into a confused expression. "You knew all along. Every time I told you I had a date with Jesse - every time I told you how much I loved Hector de Silva's paintings - you knew! And you never told me!"

"I thought you'd rather Jesse tell you," Paul shot back, spitting out Jesse's name as if it were poison.

My eyes narrowed and I took a step closer to Paul. And another, and another, until Jesse's arms snatched around my waist to prevent me from getting too close.

"Our deal?" I reminded him, probably unwisely, considering who's arms I was in. "Yeah, it's so off. You didn't 'let me meet' Hector de Silva at all. I already knew him, and you knew it."

I paused as I realised something.

"You only agreed because you thought that it would get me to keep Saturday night a secret." I was sure of this. "Well, guess what Paul? That's not going to happen."

Jesse's grip around my waist had been tightening all through my speech and only now did he speak up.

"What deal?" He asked. "What happened Saturday night? Susannah, what happened?"

His words were cold and precise, tinged with concern. Which just made me feel all the more bad. He'd called me Susannah - not querida. The last time he did that, it had been to warn me of Paul Slater. And look how well that turned out.

"Well, Suze," Paul's grin made look positively evil. "Seeing as our deal's off, I think you should tell him."

I froze. The weight of both men's stares on me made me nervous.

"Either you do, Suze," Paul warned. "Or I do."

See now, that didn't really give me much of a choice. Paul was bound to make it sound more then it was.

Taking a deep breath, I turned in Jesse's arms so that I was facing him.

"What happened Saturday night, Susannah?" His voice was quieter, upset.

"Well," I hesitated. This was going to crush him. "He kissed me."

Jesse's grip tightened, his teeth clenched and a muscle ticked in his jaw.

"You said that you were never alone with him," he reminded me.

"Another little white lie," I admitted. "The artist went to Hawaii, and left Paul a key to the studio."

Jesse nodded, taking in everything I just told him, his gaze focused on something over my shoulder. I can just see Paul's smirking face.

"So, tell me something Jesse," Paul wanted to know from behind me. "Does she sigh when you kiss her, too?"

Why that little! I'm going to kill him. Rubbing salt in an open wound. I turned around ready to go and slap him, only to find that there was nobody keeping me encompassed in his strong arms.

Jesse had set me aside and raced over to Paul, and punched him.

Paul had no chance. He was down on the floor like a ton of bricks.

"Slater, yo mataria tu," Jesse said whilst punching Paul's jaw. "You promised me, not five minutes ago, that you'd stay away from her."

"Well," Paul countered. "I didn't promise that I hadn't already done something, had I?"

A noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl made it's way out of Jesse's mouth. And, whilst it sounded hot, chances are, what followed it wasn't going to be as good.

Plus, everybody in the Gallery at the time was now watching the two of them. Kelly had even stopped filing her nails.

I think it was time to break up the fight.

"Guys!" I called, stepping in between the two of them. "Guys, stop it."

I grabbed Jesse's arms - because he looked the most likely to launch into another attack - leaving Paul free to do what he wanted. Which was attempt to hit Jesse again.

"Suze," he complained. "Get out of the way. I need to finish this."

Then he reached out and shoved my shoulder. My eyes widened in shock and Jesse, who I'd been pushed into, growled again.

Paul froze as well as he realised what he'd done.

"Suze, I'm sorry," he apologised. "I didn't mean to, it was an accident."

"No, you meant to," I told him. "'Get out of the way. I need to finish this.' That's what you said."

"Listen, Suze, it's not like that."

I jerked backwards at the sight of his hand coming to rest upon my shoulder.

Jesse pushed me behind him as he saw Paul's action as well as mine to it.

"You stay away. For real, this time." Jesse warned.

"She works here, genius. I can't stay away from her," Paul argued.

"Try really hard," Jesse hissed as he laced his fingers in my own and gently began pulling me towards the exit, leaving Paul to the mess that both of them had created.

I waited until we were a block away before yanking my hand out of his own.

"You lied to me Jesse," I reminded him taking a step backwards.

"You lied to me too!" He retorted. "You said you were never alone with him, that nothing happened, after I specifically told you to always make sure that there was someone else in the room with you."

"It was work, Jesse!" I whisper-shouted, not wanting to let the whole of New York know my problem. "He's not going to try anything at work. Besides, I'm a big girl now, you don't have to tell me what to do."

"Querida," Oh, so now we're back to the pet names. "I know you are, I don't want to tell you what to do. But, you know that I knew him in college. I know Paul Slater better than you do. I know what he's like!"

He looked so frustrated as he ran his fingers through his hair.

"Well, maybe he's changed since college."

Jesse laughed humourlessly.

"Yeah," he said. "Only he proved today that he hasn't."

Jesse paused for an indeterminable amount of time. My gaze was everywhere but on him.

"Why did you lie to me, querida?" He wanted to know.

"I knew you'd react like this." I told him. "And seeing as I like my job, I didn't want to get fired."

Jesse laughed again. Coldly.

"Oh, you won't be fired," He stated. "Slater desires you too much to fire you. Don't worry, Susannah, tomorrow, you'll be sitting in your amazing office, able to look at my beautiful paintings, whenever you wish."

"Which brings you back to your lie," I reminded him. I can't believe we were having this conversation on a New York sidewalk. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Jesse opened his mouth to speak, but I interrupted him.

"And don't say you were scared, or anything like that. I told you how much I loved them, and you still led me to believe that you were simply someone who loved Hector de Silva's paintings as much as I did."

"Querida," He began. "I'm sorry. Really, truly sorry. Sorry for lying to you, sorry for you finding out this way. Just, believe me when I tell you, I wanted you to get to know me, the guy, rather then me, the artist.

"You wont believe how many times I've told girls that I like to paint, that I'm an artist, and then they only stick around to see if I would paint them so that they can be displayed in a top-notch gallery. It happens, querida."

His voice was shaking.

"I should have known that you'd be different. You, with your degree in Art and your genuine interest in all things beautiful. I got scared, okay? Is that the answer you wanted? I didn't tell you that I painted those paintings, because I was scared. Scared that you'd only see me as an artist. And not as me."

It was when he was struggling to keep in his tears that I realised he wasn't going to say anymore. That I should stop him now.

I walked over to him slowly keeping my gaze determinedly on the floor. One look at him and there was no way that I'd be able to say what I wanted to.

When I got close enough, I wrapped him in a hug.

"I'm sorry I lied to you," I whispered into his ear as his arms came around my waist and crushed me to him possessively. "I am. And I forgive you for lying to me. Let's just say, we both have our reasons, okay?"

I felt Jesse nod against my neck.

"But," I went on. "I still feel that, maybe, we should take a break?"

Jesse snapped his head away from my embrace and looked at me.

"What?" He asked, tear tracks stained his face but there were none in his eyes.

"Just, maybe, a week or two?" I felt stupid now. I was breaking up with this guy, why exactly? He was smart, funny, extremely fun to be around, an amazing painter.

But, I had to try and think of the lie that had hung between us throughout all of our relationship. I had to see behind it, and know the real Jesse.

Jesse nodded acceptingly when I told him.

"I'm sorry," I kissed his cheek and stepped away awkwardly not sure of what to do or say now. "Well, bye."

"Can I at least walk you home?" He smiled. "I'm going there anyway."

I smiled too. Ah, good old Gentleman Jesse.

"No, it's okay," I told him. "I'm not going to go straight home."

Jesse nodded again and paused before he jogged the few steps between us and wrapped me in another tight hug.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Me too."

Then he pulled away and began walking down the street.

I shut my eyes and turned in the opposite direction to him - the space between us growing farther and farther apart.