Champagne Toast (42 page)

“
Of course I did,
”
she says, looking at me with a soft smile before bringing her attention back to the piece,
“
you sent the flier, remember?
”
Bree winks at me before walking around the corner, giving us privacy.

“Sure, I just —
I
’
m really happy you
’
re here,
”
I say, not wanting to argue with Angeline Armour.  Not tonight.

“
Kate, this is so impressive,
”
she says, walking closer to the photos of Evan.
“
Is this him?
”

“
Yes,
”
I say meekly.

“
I can see why you were so taken with him.  He
’
s very handsome and has such an expressive face,
”
she says, almost marveling at Evan before reading the placard.
“
The name is very appropriate, too.  He seems to have so many faces.
”

She has no idea how right she is.

We stand in silence for a few moments before she reaches and takes me by the hand. My gut reaction is to flinch and pull away, but I
’
m too overwhelmed to do it.

“
I
’
m so very proud of you, sweet girl,
”
she whispers, tears welling in her eyes.
I
’
m not sure what to say in return, so I squeeze her hand and nod emphatically, swallowing hard to keep my own tears at bay.  She hasn
’
t called me sweet girl since I was young.  This has to be the most surreal moment of my life.  After a short moment, I
’
m able to collect myself enough to speak to my mother.

“
Thank you for coming, Mom.  It means a lot that you
’
re here,
”
I say, squeezing her hand once again.  We stand together, staring up at the piece, staring at the love of my life as he looks back at us from the canvas.

Ten minutes later, my mother is kissing me on the cheek, saying her good-byes, asking me to come for Christmas and telling me how much she
’
s missed me.  And for the first time in so long, I feel at peace with Angeline Armour.  And best of all, I feel hopeful.

Just as she
’
s about to leave, she stares into my eyes, runs her hand down my cheek and simply says,
“
I
’
m sorry
.”
She doesn
’
t have to say any more than that.
I know what it means.  She knows photography is not a hobby, she knows I
’
m capable of more than she has given me credit for, and that there
’
s more to me than she realized.

I hug her tightly.
“
Thank you,
”
I say, pressing my eyes closed tight, not allowing the tears to come.  My happiness overrides our past.

Angeline waves as she leaves the gallery bundled in her large fur coat.  Bree returns and holds my hand tightly, knowing just how emotional that exchange was for me.  I take a few deep breaths, down another glass of wine that she hands me and thank my friend for pushing me to do this.  Somehow I know I will never forget this night.  It
’
s not just the night that my piece hung in a gallery.
It
’
s also the night that Kate Armour reached a turning point.  This is the night that Kate Armour started to believe in herself.  This is the night that Kate Armour made peace with her mother.
This is the night of new beginnings
, I think to myself as I study the many faces of Evan,
even if my new beginnings are bittersweet.

Evan

30 minutes later . . .

I stand on the sidewalk, staring at the door of the gallery and shivering in the bitter December air.
Not sure if I should go in or walk away, my feet are stuck to the ground like they
’
re in the clutches of a vice.
I
’
m struggling to make a choice.
I want to see her work, to tell her I
’
m proud of her, to ask for another chance.
But, after what I
’
ve done, I don
’
t know what she
’
s thinking or feeling.
And I sure as hell don
’
t want to ruin her big night.
I know her, and I know that a night like this is monumental.
It took guts for her to submit her work and then follow through when it was accepted.

Finally, I remember her mantra, the one she always said to everyone but herself,
“
no regrets
.” 
If I walk away, I will definitely regret it.
And so, I take a deep breath and make my way into the gallery.
A friendly woman takes my coat and points me in the direction of the photographers and their work.

My face is staring back at me.
Pictures and pictures and pictures of my face. Pictures of me smiling, frowning, laughing and looking concerned.  Just like Kate, the huge canvas takes me into i
t
s orbit, drawing me in.
I remember Kate taking every single shot.
I remember playing around in her apartment when I first gave her the camera.
I remember her taking pictures of me when we were lounging on a park bench in the sunshine.
And I remember her taking shots of me as she lay in my lap under the Christmas tree.

As I walk closer to the canvas, though, I notice so much more.
Tiny little shots tucked between my many expressions, and that
’
s when I feel like the biggest loser in the world.
This entire canvas feels like a love letter, a walk through the happiness we once shared.
And in a strange way, I feel like I should leave the gallery before she sees me.
Like maybe she wouldn
’
t want me to see this after all that
’
s happened.
I take one more look at the piece and turn to walk away.

“
What are you doing here?
”
Her voice pierces into me as I hear her walking up behind me.
When I turn to face her, I see that she
’
s as pale as a ghost and looks horrified to see me.
My heart sinks.
That was the reaction I was dreading.

“
You gave me the event flier, and I told you I
’
d come,
”
I say, trying so hard not to sound like an idiot.

“
But, that was before,
”
she says sharply.
Her eyes are angry and dark.

“I know, I just —
Kate, this piece is so awesome.
Seriously,
”
I say, pointing at the canvas.
She looks away from me before she speaks.

“
Thank you,
”
she says, her words dry and bitter.

“
Look, I don
’
t wanna spoil your night, so I
’
ll go, but before I do, I hope you
’
ll let me say something,
”
I say.
Kate looks at me with expectant eyes.

“
I
’
m proud of you
,”
I say, shrugging my shoulders,
“
I always knew you could do something like this.
”

She says nothing and I feel like such a patronizing ass.
“
Anyway,
”
I say,
“
I guess I
’
ll be going.
”

“
You
’
ve left me twice, Evan,
”
she says with bite.

“
I know,
”
I say softly, my eyes pleading,
“
I shouldn
’
t have walked away.
”

“
I used to walk away, too, remember?  I walked away from the guys I didn
’
t really love,
”
she says, looking me dead in the eye.
“
So, maybe you never really loved me, Ev.
”

“
You can
’
t honestly believe that,
”
I say, aghast.  She
’
s really convinced herself that I didn
’
t
love
her?  How am I going to assure her that I
’
m just a stupid, jealous guy who couldn
’
t get past his own ego?

“
I do,
”
she says simply.

“
I was hurt, I was broken,
”
I offer. 

“
And I wasn
’
t?  You broke me just like you broke your promises, Ev.
You promised me so many times that we were in all of this together.
That you loved me, that you trusted me
.” 
Her hands are planted on her hips as she glares at me.

“
But, I
did love you
,
”
I protest.  Kate looks at the people around us before stepping towards me, her eyes searing into me.

“
You
left
me without even listening to what I had to say.  You made so many assumptions, so many horrific assumptions about me and who I am
.” 
Her words are intense, but she says them softly so we won
’
t make a scene.

“
I know,
”
I whisper, but she doesn
’
t seem to hear me. 

“
And then, I let you back in the night of Patrick
’
s wedding.  And you did it all over again.  Do you have
any
idea how that felt?  You treated me like a goddamn whore
.” 

I can
’
t believe what I
’
m hearing.
I know I was a jackass, but I had no idea that I made her feel cheap.
  “
I had no idea, Kate, honestly, I
—”

“
I
’
ve thought about you every single day since you left me two years ago.
And you?
Have you been thinking of me or did Patrick
’
s wedding just bring all of those memories to the surface?
”

“
Of course I thought about you. It was suffocating me.  I think about you
all the time
.
”

“
Were you thinking of me when you brought that redhead to Molly
’
s?
Or the blonde?
”
she snips.  My breath catches.  I had no idea she had been there when I brought Daphne to Molly
’
s last year.  Or when Daph set me up with Krissy this summer.
I remember standing on the sidewalk, thinking I had seen her inside the bar.  I convinced myself it was all in my imagination.  Good Lord, I must
’
ve looked like such an asshole
,
rubbing her face in the fact that I was dating. 
Why did I take them there?

“
I
’
ve been dating, trying to move on.
I
’
m sure you
’
ve been in relationships, too,
”
I say, trying desperately to get her to understand my side of things.

“
No,
”
she says matter-of-factly.

“
Not at all?
”
I
’
m completely shocked.  Maybe I don
’
t know her as well as I thought.

“
No, because no one even comes close.
No one even comes close to you.
What would be the point?
”
She shrugs her shoulders and a single tear escapes her eye and pierces right through my heart.
I feel like such slime.