Page 30 of Love Unscripted
“I invited her because we were having a meeting, a business meeting, concerning the film. I lost track of time and there was still more to discuss, but I didn’t want to miss this, so I invited her to accompany me and we finished discussing things in the car and—yeah—that’s what happened,” Aaron explained, suddenly babbling.
Camille noticed that he looked nervous. She also noted that the others exchanged knowing smirks.
Alexandra stepped forward, shaking Camille’s hand warmly. “Camille, I’m so happy to meet you. Thank you for making sure Aaron got here.”
“Oh… well, you’re welcome I guess,” Camille said, pulling a funny face that made everyone laugh.
“Aaron should take you around,” Alexandra added. “He knows every painting. I even made him sit for one—you’ll see it.”
Aaron obliged, hands tucked into his pockets.
The series followed men through every stage of life—babies, boys, young men, aging faces marked by time. The work was stunning. Real without being harshly literal—stylized just enough to hold the eye.
She noticed one handsome black man featured prominently in several pieces.
“Your sister’s boyfriend?” she whispered.
“Ethan? He’s an ex-boyfriend.”
“Wow. She’s generous. I wouldn’t want my ex hanging on walls. Though, come to think of it I wouldn’t mind seeing him hang.”
He only lifted a brow.
Then he stopped. “This is it.”
Then he stopped. “This is it.”
She didn’t need him to explain. The painting captured him perfectly—the quiet intensity, the restrained confidence, the slight distance in his eyes. Alexandra had done him justice.
Later, wine glass in hand, Camille drifted through conversations, meeting friends and associates of the Cortelli family. The room gradually softened as closing time approached.
She slipped away to an attendant. “Can I purchase a painting?”
“Of course. Just write the number here.”
She returned with the number.
The woman offered an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry—that one’s already sold.”
“Oh no.”
“Perhaps another?”
“No, I really liked that one.”
“It was one of the first to go. But if you leave your information, I can contact you if anything changes.”
“Does that actually happen?”
“Occasionally. Very occasionally. You never know.”
She hesitated, then left her number anyway. When she rejoined Aaron, he asked what she’d been doing.
“I tried to buy one of the paintings. It was already sold.”
“Sorry,” he said sympathetically.
She shrugged. “it wasn’t meant to be mine, I guess.”
