Chapter 55

fifty-five

ANDREW

I opened the door to Nick Costas’ gallery. The drive from Sunrise Bay to Boulder had given me a chance to think about Jacob and his decision to end our relationship.

Last night, I’d hardly slept. Instead of continuing to toss and turn, I’d turned on my computer and read a lot of information about PTSD. It seemed that each person’s symptoms were completely different. Sometimes the ways PTSD showed itself were so obscure that it could easily go undetected. For other people, it was devastating.

I prayed Jacob could find a way to manage the symptoms he experienced. Because, as difficult as it was, his PTSD wouldn’t go away.

“Andrew! You have arrived. How was your journey?”

Mr. Costas’ thick, Greek accent made me smile. “The roads were clear and the weather was wonderful.”

“We live in a beautiful part of the world.” He tilted his head to one side, studying my face. “You are tired. I hope you have not been worrying about the exhibition.”

I shook my head. “I’ve had other things on my mind. Do you know how many people are coming to the gallery on Saturday night?”

“At the moment, we have sixty guests. By the time your exhibition opens, that number could reach close to eighty.”

My eyebrows rose. “That’s a lot of people.”

“It is when they are all enthusiastic art collectors. You have a special gift, Andrew. It is time to show the world what a talented photographer you are.”

My heart sank. Not that long ago, I’d heard the same words from Ian. It seemed as though the whole world was pulling me in different directions. And the only place I wanted to be was beside Jacob.

“Come,” Nick said as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “It looks as though you need one of my special cups of coffee and a little plate of kourabiedes.”

“What are koura…kourabeeds?”

Nick smiled. “They are little Greek almond cookies, sprinkled with powdered sugar. My great-grandson has been baking for his pappouli.”

My heart ached. I didn’t know if it was because I missed Jacob or because Nick reminded me so much of my granddad.

“It is all right,” Nick reassured me. “You look as though you are carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. Come into my workroom and tell me what is wrong.”

I found a tissue and blew my nose. “I’ll be okay.”

“That is what my grandson used to tell me before he met his husband. What you forget is that I was once a young man, too. I know when a heart is breaking.”

Instead of making me feel better, tears filled my eyes. “I’m not usually like this. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Nick opened the workroom door and sat me on a chair. “We will talk after you have had something to eat and drink. The heart cannot mend itself if the soul is not nourished.”

I sent my friend a wobbly smile. “They’re beautiful words.”

He tapped his chest. “They come from my heart. We cannot love and not get hurt. When two people fall in love, it is a time of adjustment. Sometimes it is easy and, sometimes, it is more difficult. But always, there is love.”

As he moved around the workroom, Nick told me about his wife and the long marriage they’d shared. It must have been devastating when she died, but he’d carried on, making a happy life for himself and his grandson.

When he placed a tiny cup of coffee in front of me, I smiled. “It smells delicious.”

“It is Greek coffee,” Nick said with pride. “Today, we celebrate life. And on Saturday, it will be my privilege to celebrate you and your beautiful photographs.”

With a trembling hand, I tapped my cup against Nick’s. Each of my photos was special, but one would break my heart all over again.