Gallery of Hearts

Chapter 11

A few days pass after the night at the gallery and I'm having lunch with Oliver.

"I'd like to invite you to an event tomorrow," he says hesitantly.

"Oh? Of course I'll go, what is it?" I ask, extremely curious to what it could be. 

"One of my paintings is being put in a gallery and I'd like you to see it."

"You're kidding! How many pieces have you worked on recently? Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?"

"I wanted it to be a surprise. Plus I didn't think anything I made would be grabbed like that. And I wanted to wait for the right moment for you to really see my art."

"I'll be right by your side."

"I'll pick you up in the morning. Around 10."

"Perfect."

♡

9:58 am on the dot, I'm standing by the door waiting for Oliver. When I hear someone walking in the hallway, I don't even wait for the knock. I swing the door open and greet Oliver as he's still a few steps away. 

"I'm so ready," I say, unable to contain any excitement I feel in this moment. 

"Let's go."

We arrive at the gallery and Oliver holds the door for me as I enter. It's beautiful inside, filled with a multitude of sculptures, sketches, and paintings. I turn to Oliver as he enters behind me. 

"Lead the way." He grabs my hand and we walk past walls covered in pieces of art that display the artist's unique interests, backgrounds, and styles. We continue to weave through people and Oliver keeps glancing around the room. 

"You seem nervous," I say quietly.

"A little." He continues to walk forward. His grip on my hand tightens as we turn a corner and he brings me to a stop in front a beautifully framed painting. 

"Oh Oliver it's..." His painting depicts acres of green grass under a beautiful blue sky. In the far distance, you can see the remains of a storm as if it had just passed, and in the front a breathtaking tree. A magnolia tree. "...it is so amazing." I'm at a loss for words. 

"It's the one I painted the morning after we cooked dinner together and spent the night at your house. After I told you about everything."

"I'm-" I continue to look around the canvas, taking in each and every detail - the colors, the brushstrokes, the highlights and shadows - until my eye stops on the bottom right corner. A small signature I can't quite make out since the letters don't align with Oliver's name. My eyes fall to the plaque below the painting. 

"My Magnolia"

Valor Rignet

My head whips around to look at him. "Oliver why does it..." A small, shy smile spreads across his face. "No." My eyes widen

"Yes."

"You're not."

"I'm afraid I am." 

Oliver Grant has been Valor Rignet all along. 

"How could- Why didn't- I thought-"

"Breathe, Bennett."

"You hated on your own art the day we met?"

"It was more about me than the art. I hated who I was and what I made.  All my pieces at that time felt so meaningless. I felt meaningless. Until I met you." 

"And why some storms are just storms?"

"I didn't think there was some light at the end of the tunnel for me."

"Oliver, of course there is."

"And you proved that to me. That's what this whole painting is," he says pointing to the piece on the wall. "The hope you hold onto during despair does come true." He steps closer to me and pulls me into a warm embrace. "You're my magnolia, Ivy."