(Sabrina’s POV)
I’m surprised. "How do you know so much about art?"
"My mother was a painter." There's something in his voice—grief mixed with love. "She taught me to see the world through an artist's eyes. To appreciate not just what's beautiful, but why it's beautiful."
I remember him telling me she passed away when he was young. I can’t imagine Jake growing up without me.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. She lived fully while she was here. Created constantly. Loved fiercely." He smiles, but it's tinged with sadness.
We move through the gallery slowly, stopping at each painting. Jason shares stories about different techniques and styles, while I point out the emotional resonance of certain pieces. It's easy and comfortable and feels more intimate than it should.
When we reach the back of
