Chapter 171:
Studio Secrets
Megan’s POV:
The next morning, I woke up feeling different. Max had asked me to come and visit his studio that day to check out the new series he had been working on. It was his newest brainchild for which I knew the inspiration lay in my journey. Walking to his studio, so many thoughts were going on in my head about what I could see.
When I arrived, Max was smiling at the door. “Hey, Megan. Ready to check out the work?”
“Absolutely,” I said, thrilled and incredibly nervous.
He let me in; right away, a smell something like paint and canvas hit me. His studio was almost a haven of creativity; paintings existed everywhere on the walls in several stages of completion. Max led me to a covered canvas in the middle of the room.
“This is the first piece I want you to see,” he said and removed the cloth with a flourish.
The painting emerged, and I gasped. It was such a fine portrait of me, not just a portrait. In it, I could see much of my determination, struggles, and triumphs. The background was such that it went swirling in colors, which seemed to be telling their story.
“Max, this is amazing,” I whispered, welling up tears in my eyes. “You have captured everything I have gone through.”
“I’m glad you like it,” he said low. “There’s more.”
He walked with me to another, this one of me in the ring, fists up and eyes focused. I could feel the intensity, the power radiating from the image.
“I wanted to show your strength,” Max explained. “Not just physical, but emotional too.”
My fingers reached out to touch the canvas’s edge as a flush of emotion washed over me. “You’ve done more than that, Max. You showed me parts of myself I didn’t even know existed.”
He smiled, and something else in his eyes gave the feeling that it was an emotion I couldn’t quite grasp. Just when I was going to ask him, he steered me into another corner of the studio, where an easel held up a small canvas.
“This one’s special,” he said, unveiling it.
This one was different. A scene of the park, me sitting on a bench, lost in thought. The colors softer, the lines more delicate.
“This is from the day we met,” I said, laying it on the table in front of me, recognizing the setting immediately.
“Yes,” Max said, coming closer to the table. “That day changed everything for me.”
My heart thudded at his words as I turned to him. “Max, there’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there?”
He wrenched his face to the side, and for one fleeting moment, a shadow crossed over it. “There is. And you deserve to know.”
“Tell me,” I pressed, reaching out a hand to his arm.
Max took a deep breath, his eyes locking into mine. “Megan, one day I didn’t bump into you by accident. It was the second time I’d seen you. The first time was at one of your fights.” He said that I was so impressed by your strength, the will to win that just seemed to ooze out of you. I wanted to get to know what drove you.
I felt a jolt of surprise. “So, you followed me?”
“Not exactly,” he said hastening to explain. “I was in the park that day since it was a nice day out, and when I saw you, well, how could I not think that I needed to speak to you? I am drawn to you, Megan. I’m sorry if that sounds weird.”
The words he said began to be digested as a whirl of emotions swirled inside of me. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I was afraid you’d think I was some kind of stalker,” he admitted. “I didn’t want to scare you away.”
I stepped back a little, trying to process it all. “Max, that’s a lot to take in.”
“I know,” he said, his voice pleading. “But I promise you, my motives never were anything but pure. I only wanted to know you, to understand the person behind the strength.”
I locked eyes with him, peering deep for one speck of dishonesty. What stared back at me was something altogether different: truthfulness and vulnerability. “Max, thank you for your honesty. It is just-a lot to digest.”
“I understand,” he whispered. “Take your time.”
We stood there maybe a minute, the air dripping wet with unsaid words. I finally broke the silence. “Max, I need to know I can trust you.”
“You can,” he said sincerely. “I care about you, Megan. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone.”
His words touched me deep inside, yet a feeling of unease would not leave me. “I need some time to think about this.”
“Of course,” Max said, stepping back. “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”
I left the studio, my mind reeling. He had been honest with me, but that one, that he had been watching me before we ever met, really unsettled me a bit. I needed some alone time to think over it-to work out my emotions and if there was any way I could truly trust him.
That night, well, we went for coffee at our favorite coffee shop in town. Really, I needed her advice, her view of things.
“Jane, I got to tell you something,” I said once we were seated.
“Of course, Megan. What’s on your mind?” she asked, her eyes flared with concern.
I told her everything-from the paintings of Max down to what he confessed and even how confused I was.
She listened well; her expression showed it. “Megan, it does sound like Max really does care about you. But I do understand why you’re feeling uncertain.”
“I just don’t know what to do,” I admitted. “I want to be able to trust him, but it’s hard.”
She reached across the table and took my hand in hers. “Trust is earned, Megan. And it sounds like Max is willing to earn yours. Just give it some time. See how things unfold.”
Despite reassurances that she gave me, my mind was still whirling with emotions. “Thanks, Jane. I really needed to talk to someone.”
“Anytime, Megan,” she said reassuringly and smiled. “Just follow your heart.”
That night, lying on my bed, I thought it all through: the paintings by Max, his honesty, our bonding. Something inside of me wanted to believe him and give him a chance despite the uneasiness.
The next morning, I woke up very early and was clear-eyed. Well, what I was going to do was let Max redeem himself by talking with him. My heart hammered in my chest as I walked toward the studio. I know what I would face.
There he stood at his door, hopeless and scared in his eyes. “Megan, I wasn’t sure whether you’d come back,” Max said.
“I needed some time,” I said, stepping inside. “But I want to give this a chance, Max. I want to believe in us.”
His face lit up with relief and happiness. “Thank you, Megan. I promise I won’t let you down.”
We stood amidst his paintings, and I felt something-just a little-bright with hope. Maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something beautiful.