Beautiful Lies (13 page)

“Thank you, Gloria,” she answers simply. She is very polite but doesn’t seem to be the type that brags about labels and gossips all day. She seems to know the value of
life.
“Paige,” she says turning toward me. Gloria suddenly turns to face me as if she didn’t know that I was stood there. I see the disapproving look that she gives me as she scans my dress. Internally I am rolling my eyes at her. “It was lovely meeting you. I do hope that we cross paths again,” she smiles at me, much to
Gloria’s
dismay.

“Me too,” my voice comes out quiet.

“And if you like this, you might want to go and take a look at some of the paintings over there. Something tells me that you may just like them,” she winks at me and I laugh.

“Thank you, Claire.”

“Anytime,” then she is being pulled away by the overbearing Gloria.

“Who was that?” I hear Gloria question as she pulls Claire into a crowd of nosey onlookers.

I turn away so that they don’t see me laughing and head toward the paintings that Claire pointed out. She was right, I do like them. My eyes sweep over the four paintings all hung up next to one another. It is clear to see that the style is from the same artist. I can feel it in my gut because each one tells a story of pain. They make me feel something. I want to call Rick and tell him that he needs to put these paintings in his gallery now but I know that I can’t. Instead I move closer, shutting out the world around me.

I stare at one that particularly takes my breath away. It’s a black and white painting of a man. He is smiling, but I can tell that the smile is a mask to hide the pain. The lines in his face are slightly contorted and he is using everything that he has to hold in his pain. From his eyes, there is water pouring, like a waterfall. The water is a beautiful bright blue color until halfway down his face when it starts to turn orange and then eventually red. At the very bottom the water has gathered to make what looks like a pool of blood, all the while the man still has this strained smile on his face. It is fascinating.

“Ah, Ms Carter,” the voice causes me to jump but I recognize the Italian accent instantly.

I turn to face him with a smile on my face. “Alfred,” I beam as I take a step closer to him.

“I must say you look simply beautiful tonight,” his words are soft and genuine. He takes my hand and kisses each of my cheeks. “Where is Mr. Adams?” He looks around as though he expects Rick to pop out from some hidden hideaway. It makes me laugh to think that he has known Rick since he was a baby but still insists on calling him Mr. Adams. It surprised me when I first met him but now I am very much used to it.

“He isn’t feeling too well but he sends his apologies.” I lie.

“Ah, nonsense, no apologies necessary. The man works too hard; he needs rest, especially if he is planning on taking care of a wonderful woman such as yourself.”

I find myself blushing at his comment, mainly because it’s not true, Rick doesn’t want anything to do with me. “You are too kind, Alfred.”

“I only speak the truth, my dear.” He smiles at me, his cheeks almost reaching his eyelids. He pats his round stomach with his hand and I notice that his shirt is tugging slightly on his belly but I revert my eyes almost immediately. “So, you seem to be quite taken in by these pieces,” he says gesturing toward the painting that I was just staring at.

“It is very fascinating,” I say, studying it again.

“You have a good eye, Ms Carter. Perhaps you would like to meet the artist?”

I swing around as soon as the words leave his mouth. “The artist is here tonight?” I ask excitedly.

He has a huge smile on his face. “So very eager,” he teases.

I lower my eyes and try to contain my excitement.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, my dear; passion is exactly what this industry needs. And yes, he is in attendance tonight. Wait right here and I will get Mr. Black for you.” I nod in anticipation. It always excites me when I have a theory on a painting and I am able to actually ask the artist if I am close to their original vision.

I turn back toward the painting and take in every detail. It is a truly exquisite piece of art. My eyes flit down to the title,
Des Larmes de Douleur
...
Tears of Pain
. Even the name of the piece makes my stomach twist. I quietly thank my dad for the extra French language lessons that he insisted on Liv and I attending. I stare at the painting for a while longer, wondering what drives someone to paint something so sad?

I take a look at the painting next to it. I examine it closely and I feel instantly sad. The painting shows a man sitting naked in front of a black wall. His back is to us and all we can see are a few strands of his dark hair. Prison bars are made out of the skin on his back. A hand is extended through the bars trying to break free while the other hand is clutched tightly around another set of bars that are slightly bent as though they have tried to move them. Then in the background, through the bars you can see a pair of sad eyes staring at you. The person’s eyes look so sad and trapped. I take a deep breath and look away. I almost mourn for the artist, not quite knowing how I can face them after looking at this. I don’t know why but it has stirred up a set of emotions that I try to ignore. My eyes flit down to the name of the painting,
Vie.
Whoever Mr. Black is, he likes to give his paintings French titles. This title saddens me since it means
Life.
Is this really his life? Is that how he really feels, trapped inside of himself, or was this just inspired by something else?

My eyes rest back on the first painting that I was staring at and I try to figure him out.

“Ms Carter, meet Mr. Black.”

Alfred’s voice breaks through my thoughts. I swing around, ready to face the man that produced such a beautifully sad piece of art.

My world stops.

The room stops.

Time freezes.

It’s him.

I can’t speak but still his name finds its way out of my mouth.

“Taylor.”

CHAPTER TEN

PAIGE’S STORY

“P
aige,” he replies without hesitation.

He knows my name too. Taylor
Black.
I never did use his last name in my dreams. Strangely I don’t recall ever knowing it. A thousand questions float through my head but Alfred interrupts every single one.

“Ah, I see you are already acquainted. That’s great. Ms Carter is rather entranced by your work. I thought that you could speak with her about it. Her husband owns a rather splendid gallery, perhaps you can discuss the chance of some of your paintings appearing in there.”

“He’s not my husband.” I correct him. Mentioning Rick’s name is uncomfortable enough, even more so in the current situation.

“Just predicting the future my dear,” he says with a wink. “Right, I shall leave you in Mr. Black’s capable hands while I go and mingle. Ciao.”

We are left standing in a deafening silence. Our eyes are locked and the shock is splashed over both of our faces. For a moment I believe that he is going to kiss me or take me in his arms, instead he moves closer to the painting.

“How is this possible?” He breathes in shock. He is staring at me as though I am a ghost.

“I don’t know,” I admit, feeling exactly as he does.

“I thought you were…this isn’t possible,” he whispers more to himself than me. “Did you search for me?” He sounds sad.

“No.”

I feel confused.

“No?”

“I didn’t even know that you existed before tonight.”

“I don’t understand. You didn’t know that I would be here? You never planned this? You never came looking for me?” His eyes are searching mine at speed and I feel lost.

“How could I look for you when I thought that you didn’t exist?” I ask. He looks completely perplexed. He just stares at me. “Did you know that I existed?”

He hesitates. “Yes.”

Yes? What? How could he know?

“If you didn’t know that I existed then how do you know who I am?” He says interrupting my thoughts.

I feel my cheeks heat up. I want to lie and make up some story but I need the truth. I’ve been living a lie for a year and this could be my only chance of finding out the truth.

“I’ve dreamt of you.”

“What?”

“A year ago, I was involved in a hit and run accident. I was left in a coma for a month. I spent that month dreaming of you.”

“A month...I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I. All of this time I’ve been told that my mind just made you--and the life that we share--up to protect myself from whatever my mind was blocking out.”

“Blocking out?”

“I don’t remember anything about the accident. I only remember the moments before, and then waking up after.”

“You were in a coma and you dreamt of
me.
That makes no sense.” He seems like he is trying to work it all out.

“I don’t get it either and now I can’t stop them.”

His head snaps up. “Stop what?”

“The dreams. I’ve dreamt of you every day for a year. I thought that I was going crazy.”

“Why do you dream about me?” He sounds confused.

“I have no idea…I just have.” He looks at me strangely. “I sound crazy,” I mumble sadly.

He looks at me sympathetically for a moment. “You’re not crazy, Paige, don’t ever think that.” His words are kind and he sounds like the Taylor from my dreams; the man that I love.

“Dreaming about someone you don’t know for a year isn’t exactly normal though,” I admit.

“I’ve dreamt of you, too,” he replies.

“You have?”

He nods.

“I can’t stop them either,” he confesses. I feel relieved at his words. His stare is so intense that it holds me in place. “I don’t know why you’ve been dreaming of me, Paige, but you need to find a way to make it stop.”

“I’ve tried. And now that I know that you’re real, maybe we can try and work this out...get to the bottom of it-”

“No...you have to forget about me. This night never happened.”

“I can’t do that. I can’t just forget.”

“You have to. For your own sake just as much as mine.”

“Don’t you want to know why we have been dreaming about each other? Don’t you think that there’s a reason?” I ask.

“Ah, Mr. Black. I’m sorry to interrupt your conversation with Ms Carter but you are desperately needed.” I keep my back turned as I try to control my tears. I discreetly wipe a tear off my cheek before turning to face Alfred.

“Ms Carter, are you ok?”

“Yes, I’m just tired. I’m about to leave actually. Thank you for a lovely evening. It’s been a truly wonderful exhibition.” I glance at Taylor.

“Yes, quite, and it’s always a pleasure accommodating you.” He steps up to me and kisses both of my cheeks. “I shall be in contact soon about some fabulous new pieces that I know you will be dying to get your hands on,” he winks at me before turning his attention to Taylor who is standing silently. “Mr. Black, would you be kind enough to ensure that Ms Carter arrives at her car safely? And then please hurry back. There are some people that I would love for you to meet.”

I glance at Taylor who is avoiding looking at me. The very idea of being near me seems to sicken him and it breaks my heart. I need to get out of here...alone.

“No, that’s quite fine. I’ll be ok.” I say quickly.

“Nonsense, no gentlemen would see a lady walk the streets at night alone. I insist,” Alfred says.

“Ok,” I agree. Taylor still hasn’t uttered a word.

“Wonderful, and don’t forget to send my regards to Mr. Adams.” Hearing him mention Rick’s name makes my stomach churn again.

“I will. Goodbye, Alfred.”

“Until next time,” he replies before walking away and disappearing through the crowd.

Taylor rushes ahead and I struggle to keep up with him. He is still silent when we reach the front of the building and I’m unsure of what to say.

“Where is your car?” He asks without even looking at me. I point in the right direction and he continues walking. We walk in silence for the five minute journey and my stomach flutters the entire way. I feel sick.

“It’s here,” I voice when I see my car. I start crossing the road but a car swings around the corner at speed. I feel Taylor’s hand instantly splay across my stomach before he pushes me backwards. I stumble on the sidewalk a little before he steadies me with his hands. I am somehow in his arms and we are staring into each other’s eyes intensely. He quickly pushes away from me.

“Damn it, Paige, you need to learn to be careful,” he says angrily.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. He avoids looking at me as we cross the road in silence.

When we get to my car, we stand in more silence as I slowly retrieve the car keys from my purse.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you back there,” he says softly. My eyes meet his and something goes crazy inside my stomach. I still can’t believe that he’s real.