Gross.
Brandon sits beside Val. He catches my eye, then raises a cocky brow as if he’s just caught me watchinghim. I narrow my eyes, but my emotions remain conflicted.
On the outside, it appears we’ve defaulted to our previous habits, but Brandon’s blunt admissions at the restaurant softened something inside me. He usually hides behind his smirk and witty quips, but notthat night. The earnest depth in Brandon’s expression as he admitted to still caring about me…
Something stirred in my belly.
And it was terrifying. I don’t want to feel…whatever it is I’m feeling toward him. I try to summon every characteristic of Brandon that annoys me, but it doesn’t work.
What does work, however, is feeling angry about all of it.
Why mess with my mind, inspire me to dump my somewhat-boyfriend, then spend every day trapped in that tiny office with me without acknowledging something transpired between us?
I’m back at square one: alone, and overthinking everything.
Joy.
I draw my attention back to my best friend, who is totally crushing this presentation.
“The exhibition plans are solidifying,” Amantha says, “Julia’s early social media response has been fantastic, and the few mock-ups I’ve printed of Kate’s photos look incredible.” She winks at me, and I flip my hair. She laughs, and even Kendra indulges in a rare lip twitch.
Then Amantha’s laugh fades into a terse smile.
“But we have an issue. One of the most iconic murals in Chicago—that giant pizza one on Murdock Avenue—is owned by a man named Tom. He lives off-grid in a cabin about five hours south of here, and he refuses to electronically sign the reproduction agreement.”
Blythe pipes up, frizzy hair vibrating. “But that mural is a tourist landmark! People will expect to see it in the exhibition.”
She’s not wrong. People post pictures of themselves online eating famous Chicago deep-dish pizza in front of it all the time. I’m pretty sure the hashtag #wantapizzathis is still trending. I chuckle at the clever play on words “Want a piece of this?”
“I know,” Amantha laments. “Tom dislikes even talking over the phone. He keeps insisting that we’re scammers and that he doesn’t trust the internet.”
I huff a sarcastic laugh, crossing my wide-legged black trousers. “What does that mean? He wouldn’t sign the reproduction agreement even if we mail it? What, is he expecting someone to drive into some creepy forest for him to sign off in person?”
Amantha leans forward, hands stilting upon the boardroom table.
“Glad you said it first, Kate,” Amantha says. “It’s exactly what he asked us to do. And it’s what we’re going to have to do.”
I open my mouth, but Amantha cuts me off. “Tom won’t give us the time of day if we don’t. And blowing off his request is as good as kissing that viral mural goodbye.”
My head swivels as I scan the curation team. It’s only the five of us, with Kendra in management. Amantha will likely need to stay with Anthony, and with all the wedding planning, Val may need to stick around too.
Is it my duty as maid of honor to go on this dumb trip?
Blythe wiggles across from me, and my spirits lift. Going with Blythe would be a downright blast. The idea of us road tripping sends the words flying out of me.
“I can go!” I grin at Blythe, but her freckled smile drops instantly.
My stomach hits my ankles before her apology begins.
“Sorry, kiddo. I’ve got some big plans this weekend. I’m proposing to Robyn.”
Everyone breaks into congratulations for Blythe, and I smile, happy for her and her soon-to-be fiancée, but bummed I’ll have to go alone.
Plus, is everyone and their dog getting married?
“I’ll go with Kate,” Brandon offers.
I didn’t realize my stomach could drop lower than my ankles, but apparently there is a trapdoor beneath my chair. My stomach is now trying to escape through the air ducts.
