The Sweetest Revenge

Chapter 12 - Cracks in the canvas

I barely made it halfway up the stairs before the weight of my grocery bags got the best of me. Pausing to adjust my grip, I let out a huff. "Why do I always buy so much stuff?" I muttered, bracing myself for the next set of steps.

Just as I managed to get a better hold on the bags, a couple of apples tumbled out of the top one, rolling down a few steps. I bent down, trying to hold everything together, when a familiar voice came from behind me.

"Need a hand?"

I looked up to see Liam, his usual lopsided smile softening his face. The shock of him standing there caught me off guard, and I let out an awkward laugh. "Right. Forgot you lived here," I joked, realizing how out of it I probably looked. "Thought I could handle these, but... clearly not."

Without another word, he bent down, picking up the runaway apples and the bag I'd dropped. "All right, come on then. Lead the way."

At the door, I fumbled for my keys, grateful I didn't have to juggle the bags anymore. Once inside, I motioned for him to drop the bags on the kitchen counter. "Thank you," I said, setting down my own haul and sighing with relief. "This is why I'm not allowed to shop when I'm hungry."

"Apparently," he said with a grin, glancing over the bags with raised eyebrows. "Planning on feeding a small army?"

"Just one very hungry artist." I laughed, putting away the groceries, but quickly realized Liam's gaze had shifted, scanning my apartment. I winced inwardly, spotting the paintbrushes scattered around and at least one half-finished canvas leaning against a wall. My cheeks warmed.

"Well, now that I can actually see your apartment clearly, you weren't kidding-you're definitely an artist," he said, his gaze lingering on a half-finished painting propped against the wall.

I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling a little self-conscious. "It's... a work in progress. I'm trying to turn the spare room into an art studio, so the mess will be contained-eventually."

Liam stepped closer to a canvas I'd left by the couch, his gaze lingering on it. "This is... wow, this one's intense." His voice softened as he took in the details. The piece he was staring at was one of my favorites-a chaotic swirl of dark and vibrant colors, depicting a heart cracked down the center, bleeding into a hazy, turbulent background. It was raw, unfiltered, a reflection of heartbreak but also resilience.

"That?" I felt a strange tug at my chest. "It's one of my favorites, actually. I made it after... well, it just came from a lot of things."

A moment of silence passed as I joined him in front of the painting, the memory of my mom taking me to an art exhibit as a kid flashing in my mind. I couldn't help but smile a little. "It reminds me of a painting I saw years ago at this exhibit my mom took me to. It was called 'Lost and Found,' at the Metropolitan Art Center in Chicago. I remember staring at this one piece for what felt like hours."

Liam nodded, his gaze not leaving the painting. "That sounds incredible. Art like this... it has a way of speaking without words, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," I replied, a soft smile spreading across my face. "That exhibit's actually coming to New York soon. I'd love to go if I can get tickets."

Liam turned to me, his eyes warm. "I'm sure you'll get in. You clearly have a passion for it."

The way he looked at me in that moment felt different, genuine. I felt a flutter in my chest, an unexpected warmth creeping in. Clearing my throat, I gestured to the rest of my messy apartment, attempting to break the spell. "Anyway, one day this will all be neatly contained," I joked.

Liam chuckled, leaning against the counter. "I don't know; the mess kinda suits you. In a good way." His gaze softened, and he gestured to the painting. "It's like your art-you don't hide anything. It's real."

I felt myself blush, laughing awkwardly. "Well, thank you, I think. It's... nice to have someone appreciate it." My pulse quickened, the strange sense that Liam saw me more clearly than I was used to.

"So, Miss Artist," he said, his tone playful but kind, "when are you going to let the world see your work?"

I shook my head with a laugh. "Oh, I don't think the world is ready for my kind of mess."

"Maybe you're underestimating your impact," he said with a smirk. "People are drawn to things that make them feel-even if it's messy."

My gaze drifted to the painting once more, the reminder of heartbreak. But this time, looking at it with him beside me, it felt different-less like a symbol of pain and more like a mark of growth.

"Thank you," I said softly, meeting his eyes. "I don't think I've ever had anyone look at my work and... get it. So, thanks for that."

Liam shrugged slightly, a genuine warmth in his smile. "Anytime. And who knows? Maybe one day I'll be telling people I knew the famous Emma-before-she-made-it. Just don't let the fame get to your head."

"Oh, don't worry, I won't," I said, squinting at him playfully. "Thanks again, Luke...or was it Lionel?"

He clutched his chest in mock offense. "Luke? The fame is already getting to your head. It's Liam, madam. And I am wounded." He places his hand over his heart.

We laughed, and as we stood there in the comfort of my messy apartment, I felt my walls lowering, just a little.

I looked away, setting an apple back in the fruit bowl, a soft pause settling between us before I turned back to him. "Thanks for helping me with the groceries, too."

"Anytime," he said, his voice quieter as he met my gaze and held it a beat longer than necessary.

"Oh," he added, almost as an afterthought, "I was planning to take a walk through the park during my lunch break later today. I could use the company if you're interested."

A flicker of surprise ran through me, followed by a glimmer of relief. Fresh air sounded like exactly what I needed. "You know what? I think I need that. After the morning I had, I could definitely use something to take my mind off... everything."

"Then it's a plan," he said, with a soft nod, "You can tell me all about your terrible day if you want" he added.

As he walked out, I found myself lingering in that moment, something warm and new sparking in me. "I'll meet you there," I called after him.

I watched him go, the faintest smile tugging at my lips.

The fresh air would definitely help.