Hues Of Love

28

Two years later...

ROSALIE LOOKED at the painting in front of her, and sighed with content. It only took ninety-six hours of my life to paint you. She looked at her wrist for the time, and knew that she should be getting home.

When Rosalie heard the chime for the front door of the studio, she smiled widely, ready to either meet a familiar face around town, or a tourist who was curious about her paintings. Her eyes flickered over the woman walking in. She looks familiar. The woman looked up at her, those familiar brown eyes almost giving her the chills.

Skye smiled widely, "hey, stranger," Skye said. What had it been? Twelve years since she'd seen Skye?

That friendly smile had Rosalie reminiscing to the days when she lived in the loft above the restaurant with Alex... "wow, it's great to see you!" Rosalie almost gasped. They'd both aged quite a bit, but for a moment, it felt as though no time had passed. And Rosalie was twenty-five again.

Rosalie felt a shiver run through her body. I don't want to be twenty-five again. I was a stupid twenty-five year old. Rosalie was going to be forty in a few years. Oh, how time flies by.

"This place is amazing," Skye commented, looking around the gallery. It had paintings made by Rosalie and even her mother—Kaitlyn. There was even one painted by Abbi in the corner of the room. Abbi liked to paint too. But she didn't have the talents of her mother and grandmother, "gosh, I love this one," Skye said. She looked at a painting that Rosalie had painted five years ago. And no one had ever bought it. Maybe it's finally that day.

"How have you been?" Rosalie asked, walking closer, "how come you're here?"

Skye tilted her head to the side, and smiled at the painting, before looking at Rosalie, "I've wanted to visit your gallery for a while now. I've always loved you and your mother's work," Skye said.

Rosalie quirked a brow. Skye must have known for sure that Rosalie was the painter Roses. Of course she had to. It had been twelve years since that story hit the tabloids, "I see. Are you still living in New York then?" Rosalie asked. She'd always promised to keep in touch with her friends back in New York—Pennelope, Janice, Skye, even Jen. But she never did. They all drifted apart—taking their own paths in life.

Skye answered, "for the most part. I heard you moved to Milan for a while. How come you decided to move here?" Skye asked.

"My wife grew up here. We," Rosalie smiled, thinking about Beth, "we thought it would be a nice place to raise our daughter," Rosalie said.

Skye nodded, "you've got a beautiful family. I've looked you up every now and then," Skye admitted.

Rosalie cleared her throat, "are you and Jen still—"

Skye shook her head, "no, we broke up a long time ago," Skye said, "I got married a few years later, divorced now. My ex-wife's somewhere in South America touring," Skye smiled, "never had kids. But I do have a life companion," Skye explained, grinning, "my bengal cat—Cindy."

Rosalie rubbed her thumb against her wedding band, "I've got a dog—Rocky. And my daughter has a rabbit that she never cleans up after—Jeanie," Rosalie said.

"Sounds like a happy family," Skye mumbled, her kind eyes flickering over the painting once again, "I think I'd like to buy this," Skye said, "how much?"

Rosalie sighed and walked over to the painting. She took it off of the hook, and carried it over to the counter, "we never had that double date we promised," Rosalie said. It's been years, why am I bringing this up? "Would you like to have dinner with Beth and I? It would be nice to catch up."