Unveiling the Bridesmaid by Jessica Gilmore Page B

guarantee interest in the show. Let’s just hope the paintings are as successful as the photographs were.’
    â€˜But why change? You’re obviously really successful at what you do.’
    â€˜Fame and fortune have their perks,’ he admitted. ‘The studio, the invitations, the parties, the money...’ the women. He didn’t need to say it; the words hung in the humid New York summer air, shimmering in the heat haze. She’d seen the photos: pictures by him, pictures of him—with heiresses, actresses, It Girls and models.
    Hope didn’t even try to suppress her smirk. ‘It must have been very difficult for you.’
    â€˜I’m not saying my lifestyle doesn’t have its benefits. But it wasn’t the way I thought I’d live, the way I wanted to earn a living. Expose was just a silly blog, that was all. I thought anyone who saw it would be horrified by the excess, by the sheer waste, but I was wrong.’ He shrugged. ‘My plan was always art school and then to paint. Somehow I was sidetracked.’
    â€˜So this is you getting back on track?’
    â€˜Hence the retrospective. Goodbye to that side of my life neatly summed up in an A4 hardback with witty captions. Right, lunch was a little on the meagre side so I’m going to go out and get ice cream. What do you want?’
    â€˜Oh.’ She looked up, unexpectedly flustered. ‘I don’t mind.’
    He shot her an incredulous look. ‘Of course you mind. What if I bought you caramel swirl but really you wanted lemon sorbet? The two are completely different.’
    â€˜We usually have cookie dough at home. It’s Faith’s favourite.’ Hope’s mind was completely blank. How could she not know which flavour she preferred?
    â€˜Great, when I buy Faith an ice cream I’ll know what to get. What about you?’
    â€˜No, seriously. Whatever you’re having. It’s fine.’ She didn’t want this attention, this insistence on a decision, stupid as she knew that made her look. Truth was she had spent so long putting Faith’s needs, wants and likes before her own it was a slow and not always comfortable process trying to figure out where her sister ended and she began. ‘Thank you.’
    Gael didn’t answer her smile with one of his own; instead he gave her a hard, assessing look, which seemed to strip her bare, and then turned and left leaving Hope feeling as if she’d failed some kind of test she hadn’t even known she was meant to study for.
    * * *
    â€˜Any more? I don’t think you tried the double chocolate peanut and popcorn.’
    Hope pushed the spoon away and moaned. ‘No more, in fact I don’t think I can ever eat ice cream again.’ She stared at the open tubs, some much less full than others. ‘And even after eating all this I don’t know which my favourite flavour is.’
    â€˜Mint choc,’ Gael said. ‘That one has nearly gone. Impressive ice-cream-eating skills, Miss McKenzie.’
    â€˜If I ever need a reference I’ll call you.’ She paused and watched Gael as he placed the lids back onto the cartons and stacked them deftly before carrying them to the industrial-sized freezer. She hadn’t known what to say, what to think when he’d returned to the studio carrying not one or two but ten different flavours of ice cream.
    â€˜You wouldn’t pick,’ he’d said in explanation as he’d lined the pots up in front of her. A bubble of happiness lodged in her chest. Nobody had ever done anything so thoughtful for her. Maybe she could do this. Work with this man, pose with him, because there were moments when she crossed from wariness to liking.
    After all it would be rude not to like someone who bought you several gallons of Italian ice cream.
    The pictures on the computer screen blurred in front of her eyes. ‘I feel sleepy I ate so much.’
    â€˜Then it’s a