A tiny burst of air moves through Kendra’s pooched lips and she rolls her eyes.
“Wash that junk outta your head, Ginger,” she says playfully.
Luke laughs next to me, and I gently elbow him in his side.
“Hey, she said it, not me,” he defends with laughter, and then kisses me on the head again.
“Pffft!” I take another sip. Ginger? I hate it!
Seth grabs Kendra by her waist and goes to pull her into his big arms mischievously, but she play-fights him off—with a little less Kendra flare here in public than she would normally show when it’s just the four of us.
“Keep your Sasquatch hands off me, Seth,” she snaps, pulling the thin black strap of her dress back onto her shoulder.
Seth just laughs it off.
Luke and I spend the rest of the evening with our friends and mingling with the guests. At one point, I finally talk Luke into standing with his art and answering questions about it. It took some convincing, because Luke is really shy when it comes to his art. But finally he broke away from me and went to stand by his masterpieces—without a doubt, the most beautiful paintings in the entire room. And he drew small crowds of people in intervals. I watched him from my display just across the room, and he became more comfortable by the minute, it seemed, talking to the guests with that charming, gorgeous smile of his. I catch his eyes a few times, smiling at him across the short distance. He blushes hard and looks away.
After nearly an hour, Luke comes over to stand with me at my display.
“I told you,” he whispers against my ear just before another guest comes walking in my direction.
I whisper back, “What did you tell me?”
Before he can answer, the woman steps up, gazing down fondly at one of the last few photographs I have laid out on the table between us.
“Sorry. My display looks kind of bare now,” I say nervously, retaining my bright expression, my hands folded together down in front of me.
The woman looks up from the photograph and smiles.
“Oh, it’s fine,” she says. “I actually bought three of your largest ones about an hour ago.”
“Oh …” I say, surprised. “Well, thank you so much.”
“Your work is very beautiful,” she says. “I like your style.”
Luke squeezes my waist again, since it’s mostly all he can do, but I sense a hundred proud words in the gesture, including the words he had been about to say before she walked up: I told you that all of your photographs would be sold.
The woman ends up buying the three remaining photos I have on display.
Despite all of my photographs getting sold, that nervous knot in my stomach is still there—I’m not sure how I feel that I sold anything, much less everything! Does that mean I’m really good? Or were they pity purchases? Geez, Sienna! Just accept that you’re talented! I tell myself and smile so brightly I feel the air hit my teeth.
And like mine, all of Luke’s paintings were sold.
A few minutes before the center is to close and the event to shut down, Melinda comes to thank us again, telling us that it was, in fact, their most successful charity event ever. Between my photographs—I did donate them one hundred percent to the center—Luke’s paintings, and the many other pieces that sold by other artists, Melinda will be splitting a rather large donation among several different charities in the community. The community that I’m now an official part of—just thinking about it fills my heart with pride and happiness.
As the last of the guests file out of the building, Luke and I go outside to get some fresh air.
It’s almost nine o’clock, and the night air is perfectly warm, the breeze light. I can hear the deep pounding of drums off in the distance somewhere, knowing it’s the fire dancers that often perform for the tourists.
Luke and I walk slowly down the sidewalk hand in hand, the breeze pushing the thin fabric of my dress against me.
“It wouldn’t have been the same without you here,” Luke says.
I lay my head against his arm and he squeezes my hand, the delicious smell of his light cologne wrapping around me.
“I can’t think of any other place I’d rather be than with you,” I say.
We continue on down the sidewalk, making our way slowly toward a cab. People walk to and from in every direction, the night alive with movement and voices.
“Do you miss home yet?” Luke asks.
I shake my head. “I am home.”
When we finally make it back to the house on Kauai, Seth’s Jeep is already in the driveway. When we make our way inside, we expect him to be in the living room watching television or something, but there’s no sign of him.
Luke lays his keys on the kitchen table and strips off his suit jacket, laying it over the back of a kitchen chair.
I step out of my sparkly white heels.
I feel Luke’s hands slip around me from behind, and then the warmth of his mouth on the side of my neck. I close my eyes softly and lean against him.
Then, just when I feel he’s about to kiss the other side of my neck, we both stop when we hear the bed in Seth’s room lightly hitting the wall. I turn my head at an angle to catch Luke’s eyes.
“Is he—” I start to say, but don’t finish.
Luke takes me by the hand, and we move into the living room. Kendra’s little black purse is sitting on the coffee table, and her black heels have been kicked off on the floor next to the recliner.
Luke and I look right at each other.
“Seth won’t admit it,” Luke whispers, “but from a guy’s perspective, I think he loves the hell out of that girl.”