Jackson reached up with his other hand and brushed my cheek softly. He didn't say any words and he didn't need to. I knew he understood how I was feeling without having to say anything.
"We should go," I said, breaking the silence. "Claire's going to be wondering what we're doing in here."
We were lucky to grab a cab and make it to the art gallery under half an hour, even with the rain and traffic. Claire seemed to have gotten a burst of energy and chattered throughout the whole cab ride, talking about auditions she had gone on, ideas of how to get Choosing Matthew into a bigger venue and different acting classes she was considering taking.
The art gallery was small but tastefully appointed, taking care to make sure the paintings were the center of attention. There was already a crowd milling around, looking very downtown chic, when we arrived and Claire craned her neck to catch sight of Nathan after we checked our umbrella.
"There he is," Claire announced, pointing out Nathan in the crowd. He was standing next to Mia and talking to a group of people excitedly with sweeping hand gestures.
"Why don't we take a look around?" Jackson said. "Looks like Nathan's talking to some potential buyers."
"I'll catch up with you guys later," Claire said. "I see a few of my friends over there."
She disappeared into the crowd and Jackson and I maneuvered our way in the gallery to look at the paintings. I was impressed with Nathan's work. I didn't know much about art, but I could see the raw emotion in his paintings. They were mostly abstract, but they pulled you in with glimpses of something familiar. If you looked at them a certain way, you could catch a woman covering her face with her hands in distress, a haggard man staring back at you with empty eyes. It was powerful, disturbing, and completely fascinating.
"What do you think?" Jackson asked as we moved from one painting to the next.
"He's obviously really talented. I'm not big on abstract art, but when I look at his paintings, I realize that I'm not just looking at a few smudges of paint randomly splattered on the canvas. I'll see something real, like a man hunched over looking alone and desolate."
Jackson grinned at my observation. "Nathan would love to hear that. He's always talking about his art not being for the critics but for real people. He always says that while he has an intention behind every painting, it's more important for the observer to decide what they see."
"Right now, I see a gorgeous man who's about to get me a drink," I looked meaningfully at the bar.
Jackson grinned. "Vodka tonic?"
"Yes, please."
As Jackson weaved through the crowd, I turned back to the painting we had been standing in front of. The canvas swirled with red and black brush strokes and I was staring at it, trying to glean what it meant, when I heard someone call my name.
"Emma!" Nathan said as he approached with a huge grin. "I'm glad you could make it."
He gave me a kiss on the cheek and Mia was right behind him, giving me a quick hug.
"What do you think?" Nathan asked, sweeping his hand around the gallery.
Mia rolled her eyes. "Nathan, stop fishing for compliments."
I laughed at Nathan's affronted expression. "He doesn't need to fish for compliments. I was just telling Jackson that you're really talented. I don't know much about art, but I know that I feel something when I look at your paintings. It's amazing that I can feel desolation or fear from just a few brush strokes."
Nathan beamed, looking beyond pleased at my compliment. Mia nudged me with her elbow, zeroing in on my mention of Jackson.
"Where is Jackson, by the way?" she asked. She smiled at me slyly. "I hear you guys are spending a lot of time together."
I flushed, wondering what Claire had told her. "We've spent some time getting to know each other. He's a great guy."
Mia nodded eagerly. "He is. And I heard he's smitten."
"Mia," Nathan said warningly with a frown. "You weren't supposed to say anything."
Mia looked at Nathan guiltily. "Sorry. But I'm sure Emma already knows that." She turned back to me. "Right, Emma?"
I cleared my throat, feeling a little embarrassed. "I guess."
Jackson chose that moment to reappear with two drinks in his hands. I hoped he hadn't overheard our conversation.
"Great show, Nathan," Jackson said in greeting. He grinned at Mia. "I'm glad you're here to make sure he doesn't sabotage potential sales." Jackson handed me my drink. "Once Nathan forbade someone from buying a painting because he was wearing penny loafers and a sweater tied around his shoulders."
"Actually, we were just talking about you," Mia said with a mischievous smile. "I was just saying that I'm sure Emma already knows that you're smitten with her."
Instead of being embarrassed, Jackson wrapped his arm around my waist, smiling down at me.
"I think Emma, out of everyone, knows that."
I was blushing furiously but I smiled faintly. "Let's concentrate on Nathan's show and not the state of Jackson's feelings towards me. Otherwise, I have a feeling I'll be drinking heavily tonight."
Nathan nodded approvingly, grinning. "That's right. Let's bring the subject back to me."
Fortunately, the topic did shift back to Nathan as we walked around the gallery and he told us a little about each painting. He was bombarded with people coming up to him and he handled it with ease, reveling in the attention.
"He loves all the fawning, but he hates selling his paintings," Mia confided in me. We were standing next to Jackson and Nathan who were busy talking to a couple of guys that they knew. Jackson had introduced me, but I had become disinterested in their conversation about sports, so Mia and I had drifted into our own conversation. "He says it's like having to sell his children. I keep telling him that his 'children' are crowding our apartment and he needs to get rid of some of them."
"I can imagine it would be tough to live with some of these paintings." Several were oversized and taller than I was. Mia had explained that Nathan used a spare bedroom in their apartment as a studio, but he had so many paintings that they were spilling into the rest of the apartment.
We didn't see much of Claire during the showing. I caught glimpses of her talking to other people and she seemed to be having a good time. Once I turned to find her watching me, and I gave her a little wave. Instead of waving back, she frowned and turned around.
"Claire can be moody as hell," Mia volunteered. I turned to her, not realizing she had witnessed the exchange. "Don't take it personally."