Riposaarrives and our door closes for a couple hours, giving us a much-needed breather.
Francesca, Gemma, Ricardo, and Felipe sing happy birthday to me, and then we cut the cake, all huddled around the front desk area. Licking my lips, I’m just about to devour my slice of cake when the buzzer sounds, alerting us to someone outside the gallery.
“It’s probably a tourist who doesn’t understandriposameans we’re closed, like every other shop and business in the middle of the day,” Gemma says, rolling her eyes.
A lot of businesses close for three hours, and most employees head home before returning to their workplace later. Usually, Gemma and I go out for lunch or make lunch at my place and either eat it sitting at the table on my terrace or we head to the park with a picnic basket. It’s busy today, so we’re all taking advantage of the downtime to catch up on admin and stuff.
“He’s early.” Excitement lights up Francesca’s face, and I’m guessing it’s one of the VIP clients she was talking to on the phone this morning. “I’ll let him in.” Quickly smoothing the wrinkles out of her designer skirt suit, she lifts her shoulders, thrusting them back, and strides confidently to the door. We can’t see who it is from here because we don’t have a clear view of the entrance, but all will be revealed in due course.
Francesca greets the client, and the responding voices are male and female.
The oddest sensation washes over me, and I wet my suddenly dry lips, keeping my back to the entrance, unlike my coworkers who are straining their necks and trying to see who it is.
Footsteps approach, and my heart is racing like crazy.
What the fuck is up with that?
“We’re interrupting. I’m sorry,” a man with a deep male voice says. “We can come back at the prearranged time.”
All the blood drains from my body when I hear his voice. I grip the edge of the desk as my vision blurs, my head spins, and my body sways. His voice is deeper than I remember, but I would know it anywhere. Not just because I’ve heard him speak in countless interviews over the years.
Never moving on from the boy who became a massive rock star, adored and admired by millions of people around the globe, is its own form of torture.
No matter how hard I have tried to forget Jared, it’s impossible when his face is plastered across social media and his words dominate the airwaves.
“That won’t be necessary,” Francesca says in her professional voice. “It’s my gallery manager’s birthday today. We have more than enough cake, and I’m sure Sydney won’t mind sharing.”
Shock is splayed across Gemma’s face, and her cheeks are flushed. Our male colleagues are equally excited, but they hide their reaction better. We were joking earlier that the new clients were rock stars because a host of them are in town for the MTV awards. I hadn’t checked the lineup, because what are the fucking chances I move to Florence and the man who has haunted my dreams for years shows up in my neck of the woods? You couldn’t make this shit up if you tried.
Gemma is giving me weird eyes, and I know I’m being rude not turning around or responding to Francesca’s statement, but I physically cannot move. I am rooted to the spot and shaking all over as pure terror shoots through my veins. Without conscious thought, my fingers wind around the silver Tiffany locket resting on my collarbone.
This cannot be happening.
“Sydney?” A rough quality spears through Jared’s tone, and I hear him take a step closer. “Sydney Shaw?”
Gemma’s eyes pop wide, and I feel eyeballs on me from both sides.
Shit, shit, shit.
Briefly, I close my eyes and beg my body to get with the program.
I can do this.
I can act unaffected.
I’ve had experience faking it with the best, and I just need to put on the show of a lifetime.
There will be plenty of time to fall apart in private after he’s gone.
Ignoring the shocked and curious gazes of my friends and coworkers, I plaster the biggest faux smile on my face and turn around to face the boy who ripped through my heart like a juggernaut.
ChapterTen
Sydney
With my heart hammering against my rib cage, I lift my eyes and stare at my ex, keeping a forced pleasant smile fixed on my face.
Fuck.
