From Bully To Beloved

SERA

Lunch prep begins.

“We haven’t been this busy in a long time,” Kelly says.

“The weather is getting nicer. That always makes people want to get out more.” On autopilot, I empty the coffee makers and go about cleaning them before I start fresh pots.

“We need to try to go out together more often,” she says. “We haven’t been out together in ages.”

Going to a nice dinner with Kelly sounds great.

“I meant to tell you,” she says, wiping down the counter. “I have a friend who I think you would hit it off with. Bryce Amoria.”

Putting my hands on my hips, I turn to look at my friend. “Kelly, are you trying to set me up with someone?” I ask in surprise. It’s so out of character for her, especially after our discussion about marriage and the fact that I’m essentially off the market until the marriage is annulled.

“No, no, nothing like that,” she says. “He’s a friend of my neighbor from high school who just opened an art gallery here in NYC, and he’s always looking for new artists.” I open my mouth to protest but she hurriedly keeps talking. “Now before you say no, he’s a really nice guy with a brilliant eye for talent, and I think you should at least consider taking a meeting with him.”

“Kelly, that’s very sweet, but I don’t have the space to work on something as intense as an art showcase.”

If Coltonthinks I’m messy now, he’s never seen me trying to put a show together. The last time I did, I could barely walk with all the canvases spread throughout the place. Pretty sure I got to the bedroom by jumping on and over the couch.

If I attempted to do the same thing now, I think Coltonwould have a heart attack.

Again, the visual of a large open loft comes to mind, and I get excited that it’s almost within reach.

“Maybe after I settle into my new place, I’ll consider it.”

“If anyone can do it, you can,” Kelly urges.

“You know I haven’t done a show in years.”

Three years, to be exact.

Ever since my first and only art show, which ended with a scathing article inArt Dream Monthlyby top art critic Professor Osgood Ramstraat. I still remember what it felt like reading “uninspired,” “affront,” and my favorite, “no truth.” With each word, my heart sank through the floor. I was crying by the end of it, so upset and humiliated.

The worst part? Chase didn’t disagree with him. When he saw me crying and read the article, he shrugged and said, “He makes a few good points.”

I was so distressed and stunned that it took me a second to process exactly what he had just said. I tossed him out on his ass the next day, and he had the nerve to be surprised. Unfortunately, the damage was done. My confidence was andstillis shot. For months, I couldn’t pick up a pencil without those words playing on a loop in my mind. Eventually, I got back into it, telling myself that I couldn’t give up because of one lousy article-written by the expert of all art experts-and that tastes differ. Bad publicity is better than no publicity. Some days I tell myself I will become the best artist in the world and then rub the article in Mr. So-called “Expert’s” face.

“But you’resogood,” she insists. “Your show was amazing.”

“I’m glad you thought so.”

“Come on, Sera, it was one bad review. Don’t let one jerk keep you from following your dream.”

“It wasn’t just a bad review, Kelly. It was a scathing review from one of the top art critics in the city. Professor Ramstraat was one of the headmen to define “what makes artwork good.” Today, at almost seventy-five, and of Dutch origin, he’s considered to bethemover and shaker among New York’s art critics, and has become popular among art lovers for his honest and amusing reviews. That’s what one article said. Amusing reviews, my ass. “I know you’re just trying to be encouraging, and I appreciate it. But it still hurts, you know? Even now, while living with Cal, I can’t bring myself to sketch when he’s around because I’m nervous he’s going to see what I’m working on.” And burn it.

Kelly gives me a sympathetic look. “Can you at least think about calling Bryce Amoria? Please? For me?”

I groan in frustration. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

Kelly drops the doe-eyed expression in a millisecond and claps. “Yay! And when you’re ready and done thinking about it for the hundred and twenty-fifth time, I’ll give you his card. Or do you want it now? Okay, you don’t. But I’ve got it right here waiting for you, just in case.”

“You’re lucky I love you, Kelly.”

She grins in satisfaction. “I will pout as much as possible if it means you’re at least open to the idea of another art show. You’re always telling me to stand up for myself. I hope you’ll do the same.”

“Touche, Kelly. Touche.”

The front door opens, and Kelly looks past me to see who’s arrived. She softly gasps, “Holy moly, check out the hotties.”

She rarely says anything like that aloud at work. Immediately, I’m amused, needing to see who she’s talking about. When I turn around, I’m surprised to find Coltonand Justin standing at the podium, waiting to be seated. Daphne approaches and greets them warmly before she shows them to a booth.

“What’s he doing here?” I mutter under my breath. I can’t deny the spark of happiness igniting in my stomach because Cal’s here. Of course, I can’t let him know how happy I am to see him. He’s cocky enough as it is.

“He who?” Kelly asks.

I motion to Cal. “That’s Coltonand his best friend, Justin.”

Kelly stares at me with wide eyes. “That’sCal? That’syour husband?” she hisses.

“Yeah.” I nod, playing it cool.

“Sera!”

“What?”

“Sera!”

“What? Stop saying my name.”

“He’s perfect!”

“I told you he was handsome.”

“I know, but he isn’t handsome. He’sperfection.”

“Believe me, when he opens his mouth, he is not.”Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

“I know he annoys you, but he doesn’t look like a bad guy. He looks… hot, no question about it, but he also has kind eyes.”

Kind eyes? Is she serious?

She pauses and looks at me sternly. “That doesn’t mean I approve of this scheme.”