It’s not technically a lie. I will call him later. Much later. When I’ve figured out how to have a conversation with him without blurting out that signing those contracts made me feel like I was selling my soul.
Another buzz: “Have fun. We should talk soon about the next steps.”
Next steps. Right. Because this is just a business arrangement with action items and milestones and progress reports.
I grab my purse and keys and head out before he can text again.
The Stedman Gallery is buzzing with the typical opening night crowd when I arrive—art collectors in expensive shoes, young professionals nursing glasses of cheap wine, and a handful of artists trying to look like they belong. It’s a group exhibition featuring emerging Chicago artists, the kind of event I used to attend religiously.
I typically love gallery openings. The energy of seeing new work, the conversations with other artists, the possibility of discovering something that might stop me in my tracks and remind me why I fell in love with art in the first place.
Tonight, though, I feel like I’m watching everything through glass. Like I’m here but not really here, going through the motions of being the person I used to be.
I make my way through the main gallery, wine glass in hand, stopping in front of a large abstract painting that’s made of sharp angles and clashing colors. The artist’s statement talks about “the violence of modern existence” and “the fragmentation of the contemporary self.”
I understand that feeling more than I’d like to admit.
“Freya? Oh my God, Freya Hull!”
I turn to find Sofia Alvarez practically bouncing toward me, her arms already extended for a hug. Sofia was my roommate during my junior year of college, one of those effortlessly social people who knew everyone and somehow managed to maintain friendships with all of them even after graduation.
“Sofia, hi!” I accept her enthusiastic embrace, genuinely happy to see a familiar face. “How are you?”
“I’m amazing, but more importantly, how are YOU?” She pulls back to look at me, her eyes bright with excitement. “I saw the photos online. I cannot believe you didn’t tell me you were dating Ben Lawlor. Like,theBen Lawlor.”
My stomach drops. “Oh, that. Yeah, it’s been… exciting.”
“Exciting? Girl, it’s like a fairy tale! Childhood friends to lovers is literally the best romance trope ever. And those engagement photos?” She fans herself dramatically. “I died. Actually died. You two look so perfect together.”
I take a large sip of wine, trying to think of an appropriate response.
“Thank you,” I manage. “We’re very happy.”
“I bet you are. God, I remember you talking about him in college. You always insisted you were just friends, but I could tell there was something there. The way your whole face would light up whenever you got a text from him.”
Did I really do that? Did I make it that obvious, even back then?
“We’ve always been close,” I say carefully.
“And now you’re getting married! When’s the wedding? Please tell me you’re having some huge, gorgeous ceremony. With your artistic eye and his money, it’s going to be incredible.”
“July. We’re keeping it relatively intimate.”
“July? That’s so soon! Oh my God, you must be so busy planning everything. Are you having it here in the city? What’s your dress like? Have you picked a theme?”
The questions come rapid-fire, and I find myself answering on autopilot, giving vague responses about venues and flowers and all the wedding details that Carson and his team are actually handling. Sofia hangs on every word, as if she’s personally invested in every decision.
“I’m just so happy for you,” she says finally, reaching out to squeeze my arm. “Seriously, Freya. You deserve this. You deserve someone who loves you the way Ben obviously does.”
The way Ben obviously does.
If only she knew that the way Ben obviously loves me is entirely manufactured for public consumption.
“Thank you,” I say again, because what else can I say? “That means a lot.”
“We should definitely get together soon and celebrate properly. Maybe after the wedding, when things calm down a bit?”
“Absolutely. I’d love that.”
