Page 90 of In the Frame

My throat tightens, and my eyes prickle. Where I might lose control of my mouth. “Shower’s free. You’ll see the fresh towels on the shelf.”

Florian nods, searching my eyes. “I’d better go have a shower, then.”

I watch him slip nude out of bed, bathed in the sunlight for a moment as he opens his leather duffle bag, dappled as the light falls through the leaves of the tree beyond the window. If only I could take a photo of him like this. But I’ll remember.

He slips on his boxers too. Florian comes to sit beside me for a moment. Gently, he kisses me. My mouth yields to his. When he pulls away, he gives me a wry smile before he goes to the shower.

I sigh and head up to the studio and open the loft windows. I haven’t painted since the portrait of Florian. It still sits on the easel, drying. I have no idea how long I sit there with my tea, considering the portrait, my mixed-up feelings. Wanting him, unable to reconcile it with his plans for the Rose.

Eventually, there’s a soft knock on the open door. Florian enters, smelling fresh, and he looks from me to the portrait. And stares. “Please tell me you didn’t just paint this.”

I laugh despite myself. “There’re limits to how fast I can paint, even alla prima.”

Florian studies the portrait, fascinated. He steps closer.

“It’s still drying. Oil paint takes a long time to dry. Certain colors especially. Like whites. Some others.”

“You’re so talented.”

I shrug. “Experience. Practice. Like your drawing lesson.”

“You did this from memory?” he asks in awe.

“Maybe there were a couple of sneaky looks at corporate photos of you.”

Florian smiles. “I’m very honored. And you’re flattering.”

“You’re gorgeous. Easy work.” I gaze at him. And he is, with his easy confidence.

He gives me another light kiss. Neither one of us dares push our luck at the moment. “I think your studio’s magic. Not because I’ll never forget my first visit to an art studio.”

I give him a half smile, remembering all too well how I wrecked him—and myself—with that blow job. “This photo is for me to remember that visit. To remember you.”

There’s a bittersweet expression that falls across his face. “You’re burned in my memory too, Matty. Since the day we met.”

“Which was memorable, to be fair. People should remember cocktail attacks.”

He chuckles. “Yes. I acted very poorly.”

“Well, I assaulted you with glass and ice.”

“Not intentionally.”

We consider each other, both of us uneasy. I can see the tension in his shoulders despite his smile. There’s a sadness in his gaze. Like we both know this is the end.

“I have to leave,” Florian whispers. “I need to go see Gabriel later this afternoon. I didn’t realize the time.”

I swallow hard, the taste of grief on my tongue. “Don’t let me keep you. He needs you, from what you’ve said.” And I need Florian too, but I keep that to myself. I try to draw in a breath, but my lungs aren’t working the way they should.

“Yes.” Florian nods slowly. He presses his lips into a line. “He has bipolar disorder. Sometimes he’s okay, and sometimes he’s not, and that can change very quickly. Our family tries to help him. But he gets on with me the best.”

“Your twin.”

“Yes.” Florian nods, smiling wryly. “I can tell when he’s not well, and I think he’s slipping again. And… he’s the reason I wanted to buy the Rose.”

I blink, taken aback. Whatever I expected his reasoning to be, I figured it was aligned with profit and business objectives. “What do you mean?”

“Gabe’s not well enough to work a full-time job. I want to buy the Rose and do the redevelopment to help earn more money and be able to support him in a position where he can work more casually and be able to afford to buy him a flat of his own. And it would be a redevelopment where he’d get some say in its direction, given his own creative insights.” His gaze looks faraway. “And his flat would be near to me and our parents, and so I can establish a trust. ’Til now, nearly all of my earnings go back into the business. And our father’s cutting him off. He hasn’t taken Gabriel’s diagnosis well. Papa thinks it’s a character flaw, rather than an illness. So that’s why I want the Rose. To help Gabe get some independence back from our father. To not be berated and threatened and spin out. Our mother pretends not to notice the blowups.”