oOo
His paintings hung in two vast, white rooms on the ground floor and the lighting was excellent.
Edward paced to and fro while Michael tried to calm him down. He knew his client, and Edward was always terribly nervous before presenting any new works.
"Here." He handed Edward a glass of whisky.
"Thanks." Edward downed it in one gulp, and gritted his teeth. "I'm not sure I made the right decision, Mike." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Maybe I should have chosen 'The Meadow' after all."
He rubbed the back of his neck. The decision he had made had not exactly been a sober one.
Bella had assured him that it would be okay to include the painting with her in it. If he was totally honest with himself, she had seemed pleased.
There were other paintings with her in it, but none depicted her as clearly – or as revealingly.
"You did the right thing, Edward," Michael assured him. "You relied on your instinct. Did it ever misguide you?"
"Plenty of times," Edward huffed. He looked at his agent. "And you know it."
"I'm just saying you should trust yourself. You had a reason not to choose it, didn't you?"
"Yeah." Edward sighed. He thought of Bella, his Bella, and how he'd felt that the painting might show too much, that it was too personal.
The clacking of heels made the two men look up. It was Rebecca, the gallery associate responsible for "Edward Cullen – New Seasons." She was the typical gallerina, young and pretty, dressed in Prada, with fashionable, horn-rimmed glasses that – Edward was certain – were plain glass.
"The first guests are starting to arrive," she informed them. "The bar is open and we have servers with trays of champagne. And Katrina is ready with the red dots." She gave Edward a smile. "Have fun. If anything's the matter, I'll be around."
"Thanks," Michael said.
Edward stayed silent, his nervousness reaching its peak. The drink had only helped minutely. How he hated this part of his profession. He was a painter, not a businessman.
"Ready?"
Michael smiled encouragingly.
"As ready as I'll ever be," Edward sighed.
.
Half an hour later, the room was filled with people and Edward felt like he was being pulled in twenty different directions. Journalists asking him questions, collectors wanting to talk to him, admirers wanting his autograph. His family had arrived, hugging and kissing him, bearing flowers and marvelling at the beauty of the exhibition rooms.
Edward was nursing his second glass of champagne and waiting for Bella. She was to come with Alice and Jasper, and had sent him a message that they were stuck in traffic, but should be here any minute now.
"Edward!"
Gah. It was that horrible woman Zafrina. She kissed the air next to his ears.
"Simply brilliant," she gushed.
She had Joham and Senna in tow, both of which did the same air-kissing thing to Edward.
"Congratulations, Edward. It clearly is a 'new season' in your work," Joham said, using air quotes.
"Your paintings are so different," Senna said. "Much more lively and positive."
Both Joham and Zafrina nodded their heads.
"What brought this change?"
Edward's eyes were roaming the vast room while he tried not to react with irritation or arrogance. Before he could make up a reply, she entered the room – the one person that had brought the change.
Her smile made his heart sing.
oOo
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