*Kwame Asante*

Chicago, Illinois

Five weeks after the Afrochella Festival

Bzzz! Bzzz!

"Hello, this is Power Pictures Incorporated. How can we help you?"

"Ah, Kwame, just the person I wanted to talk to."

My eyebrows shot up at the sound of her voice. "Mrs. Hersham, what a pleasant surprise. How are you doing?"

"Very well, thanks for asking."

I could practically feel the smile in her tone. Mrs. Hersham was the governor of Illinois and a huge art and cultural enthusiast. Anytime I held an exhibition, she made it a point to be there and was also one of my best buyers.

"I just called to congratulate you on the success of your exhibition last week. I see you managed to get yourself captured in the Daily Times. Wonderful."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hersham. It was a fantastic turnout, and I'm thrilled with the response."

"I'm not surprised at all, Kwame. Your work is always exceptional. Speaking of which, I saw a particular photograph that caught my eye. It's the one with the stunning sunrise over the beach. Is it still available for purchase?"

I nodded, even though she couldn't see me over the phone. "Yes, it's still available. That's 'Beach Serenity.' I'm honored that you liked it."

"Excellent! I'd love to acquire it for my collection. Could you tell me more about the print, like its size and pricing?"

"It's a limited edition print, 16x20 inches, and it's priced at $800. The print is signed and comes with a certificate of authenticity. I can arrange for it to be delivered to your office or wherever is convenient for you."

"That sounds perfect, Kwame. Please go ahead and arrange for the delivery, and you can send the invoice to my office. I'll have my assistant take care of the payment. I can't wait to have 'Beach Serenity' grace my wall."

"I truly appreciate your support, Mrs. Hersham. I'll make sure everything is arranged promptly, and you'll have the photograph soon. Thank you once again for your continued appreciation of my work."

"It's my pleasure, Kwame. Your talent deserves recognition. Have a wonderful day."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hersham. You too, have a great day. I'll be in touch soon with the details for the delivery. Bye."

"Bye."

I ended the call with a smile and set the phone down. "Hey, Cara. Get over here! We've got another delivery to work on."

"Roger that, boss." My trusted sidekick tumbled out of the back office, and I gave her the details before moving into the studio gallery.

A handful of people walked around, examining the photos. I mingled among them, interacting and providing more insight into the background of some selected pieces. Ever since I held the Afrochella Photo Exhibition last weekend, business had been booming, and it made me happy. Not just because I was cashing in, but I felt this was an opportunity to show what other parts of the world had to offer.

"Ooh, this is pretty," a young woman commented.

When I turned to the photo she was pointing at, all the words vanished from my mouth.

"Kaleidoscopic Beauty," the gentleman beside the woman read the caption underneath. "What's the story behind this one?"

Attempting to mask the effect, I cleared my throat. "This is, umm... a very simple piece. It shows the beauty of a photojournalist in her element."

"Hm, you have a good eye," the man nodded.

"Yeah," his feminine companion agreed. "I liked the way you captured her in that moment with all the concert lights lingering in the background. Even though there's a lot going on around her, you can still tell that the photo is about her. She almost looks regal in it."

"Yeah..." I mumbled, remembering the woman who'd managed to steal my heart in just a week of traveling with her.

"How much is this piece?" Another guest inquired.

"Oh, it's not for sale," I quickly responded.

The gentleman quirked an eyebrow. "Then why is it on display? If it's on display, that means you want to sell it, and I want it, so state your price."

"Oh, c'mon, Herschel. You always do this," the man from earlier interjected.

"Yeah, it's his piece, and he's the photographer. If he doesn't want to sell it, you can't force him to!" The young woman scolded, then grabbed his arm. "Let's go, I'm sure there are other pieces you might like that are for sale."

As the guests strolled off, my attention veered back to the photo. I remembered Cara telling me not to put it on display if it wasn't for sale, but I just couldn't help myself.

I touched the glass casing. This was the very last photo I took of her before the uneventful list of incidents rolled out. Delores looked unnervingly gorgeous the night of the concert, and I just knew I had to capture that moment.

It had been a total of thirty-one days since we last saw each other, and that was at the hospital. Since then, I hadn't seen or heard from her. No matter how many times I called or texted, none of them went through. It was as if she'd fallen off the radar.

Though I still kept in touch with Dayton and Arturo. Those two made relationships look like a kindergarten exam. It was so easy for them, and it made me wonder why Delores and I didn't have that. Weren't we compatible enough?

I rapidly shook my head. This isn't the time to wallow in pity. Guests were still around, and I needed to attend to them. Sucking in a deep breath, I got back to work and managed to stay focused throughout the day.

I effortlessly navigated through the crowd, fostering potential collaborations and clinching a few more sales. By the time I finalized the last purchase and delivery, it was 5:25 p.m. Twenty-five minutes past closing time.

Shutting everything down and locking up the office, I walked back into the studio gallery, surprised to find all the window blinds still up.

"Cara!" I dumped my bag on the nearest display table and began pulling the blinds down. "What happened to locking up? It's past closing time."

"I know!" Her voice came from the back of the room, followed by, "Ma'am, you heard my boss. You need to leave, now."

Curious, I abandoned the blinds and made my way over.

Standing in front of Kaleidoscopic Beauty was Cara and a woman dressed in a stylish denim outfit. For some strange reason, her profile seemed quite familiar. "What's going on?"

Cara turned to me, frustrated. "She won't leave, and she won't say anything either."

"You put me on display?"

Our gazes flew back to her.

The saying "out of sight, out of mind" doesn't always hold true for everyone. In my case, it had been a whole month since I last heard that voice, yet I still recognized it, as clear as crystal. To avoid disappointment, part of me didn't want to believe it was her. But there was also this... invisible cord drawing me closer to her as she turned away from the photo, facing me.

I stepped past Cara and let her name roll off my tongue. "Delores?"

She pulled off her sunglasses, shooting me a warm smile. "Hi."

¤¤¤¤¤

Lebenette's Delights was only a block away from my studio, and it was also my go-to restaurant anytime I received visitors. So it made sense to take Delores there.

The soft ambiance of the eatery wrapped around us. We occupied a table in a secluded corner at the back. The waiter, in a finely tailored suit, poured some deep red wine into our glasses.

Delores thanked the waiter and delicately picked up the glass with a manicured hand. She had changed so much that it was a bit hard to believe that it had only been a month since we parted ways.

"You cut your hair," I stated, and she set her glass down.

"Yeah. I wanted something a little different from the regular box braids."

"It suits you really well."

Her smile broadened. "Thanks." She slowly pushed some strands of her silky bob cut behind her ear. "You don't look bad yourself."

"Oh," I shrugged. "I try."

"And congrats on your recent exhibition. I guess all the hype is well deserved. Your photos were amazing."

"Thank you." The comment had me concealing a cocky smirk with my glass.

"Although, I still can't believe you had my picture on display."

"Mm, why?" I put my glass down, savoring the exquisite taste of the crimson beverage.

"Well... considering everything that happened back in Ghana, I thought you wouldn't want to have anything to do with me." She shuffled in her seat, then let out a deep sigh.

"Now why—"

"No, wait." Delores held up a hand. "Before you say anything, let me talk first." She met my gaze with full sincerity. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry about the way things ended between us. I know you tried reaching out several times when you returned to the States, but the truth is I needed time to figure out what I wanted in life. These past few years, my life has been nothing but a rollercoaster of disappointment. I've gone through a failed marriage and a diagnosis I'm still struggling to accept. It all overwhelmed me, and the last thing I wanted was to find myself in a similar situation again. And then you came along."

I watched her carefully.

"You took my hand and showed me aspects of love I didn't even know existed. They felt too good to be true, and I didn't want to get hurt, so I panicked and pulled myself away, which inadvertently led to the worst days of my life. But before I left, I had a talk with Dayton, and she said something that heavily influenced the final decision I took. She said it was ok to be vulnerable with someone who cares about me." She sucked in a breath. "And I want that someone to be you, Kwame. That's why I quit my job in New York and moved here."

"Whoa, wait—you quit your job?" I quizzed in surprise. "Delores, that's a huge step to take."

"I know, and it was a long time coming. I've spent my entire life in New York. It's where I was born, it's where I schooled, it's where I worked, it's where I got married, and it's also where I got divorced. I needed change. I needed happiness. I just... wasn't finding that anymore." She cupped her face for a brief moment before pulling her hands down. "Look, I get it if you need time to think this through. I just wanted to be honest with you."

Silence reigned for a while.

I leaned back in my chair, contemplating her words. "I don't think there's much to think about."

Delores looked up from the table, an expression of curiosity on her face.

"Remember the talk we had at the hospital?"

"Yeah," she slowly responded.

"I still stand by everything I said." Reaching for her hands on the table, I gave them an assuring squeeze. "You're a part of my future, Delores. And you never stopped being a part of it, even after you left. Honestly, I missed you more than I ever thought I would."

She blankly stared at me, then in the next minute, her hands cupped my face, bringing us to a meeting of lips—a kiss of scalding passion. I'd forgotten how good her lips felt, almost like a decadent whipped chocolate parfait, light, fluffy, and excruciatingly soft.

When we broke apart to catch our breath, she looked deep into my eyes and said three words that sent my heart into a frenzy.

"I love you, Kwame Asante."

"I love you more, Delores Amelia Brown." I moved closer, merging our lips together a second time.

******