“I need a minute,” I told him. “Please don’t follow me.”
Hurt flashed across his handsome face. “What?”
“Don’t follow me,” I repeated, and then let my prickling eyes catch his amber ones before I turned and made a run forit.
Tears spilled down my cheeks as I raced through the museum, past medieval suits of armor, past gaudy pink-and-gold furniture, past Pablo Picasso and his inferiors. I wanted to slapmyself.How could you do it?I thought.How could you do it, how could you do it, how could you do it?
I ran up one stairwell, then down another. Something like black sludge had seeped into my veins and I needed to get it out. “Sorry, I’m sorry!” I called after nearly knocking over a woman on crutches, karma coming back around when I tripped over a Persian rug and fell to the floor. It smelled like dust.
But also like my mom’s fucking carpet cleaner.
“Miss, there is no running allowed in the museum…,” a docent said, but she dropped off when she saw my mess of a face. Her expression stilled. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” I nodded, eyes stinging. “But also no—not really.”
She directed me to the nearest restroom.
“Thank you,” I whispered, and then went to gather myself. Isa and I might’ve carried small shoulder bags, but we knew how to fit in our essentials. I washed off all the mascara bleeding down my face before starting anew with my mini makeup kit. Thanks to Mrs.Cruz’s tutelage, Isa and I were both valued customers at Sephora.
A few minutes later, I stared at myself in the mirror. I was calm and collected again.
Or I at leastlookedlike I was.
There was no sign of Ev after I left the bathroom, so I slowed to a walk. It wasn’t until I walked into a random gallery that my stomach squirmed, and I stopped in my tracks.
Because Isa was standing across the room. I knew I neededto go talk to her; I wasn’t the type of friend who turned around and bolted.
Well, not usually. Not under normal circumstances.
Although first, I watched her. She looked so collegiate in her cardigan and heels, with that gorgeous silk scarf knotted around her ponytail and James’s blazer folded perfectly over her arm. She held up her phone with her other hand, taking a picture of the painting she was admiring.
Once she admired the photo itself, I made my move. “Isa, hey,” I said. “Fancy meeting you here!”
“G!” she exclaimed, sounding a little caught off guard. “Did you just get here?”
I forced myself to smile and nod.
She laughed. “Okay, I have to admit I thought your ‘divide and conquer’ strategy was silly at first, but then…” She gestured around the room. “I’ve been in here over an hour. Every piece is so fascinating, so uniquely beautiful.” She turned to me. “Splitting up was the best idea, Grace.”
The best idea.
It was nice someone thought so.
My heart was going to burst. It was going to burst through my chest and splatter all over the painting in front of us if I didn’t say something about Ev and me.
Isa waited for me to respond. “I know you’re supposed to be quiet in here,” she joked, “but ‘quiet’ doesn’t have to meansilent.”
I tried to laugh, but instead exhaled a long breath. “Isa, Ihave to tell you something,” I said as she moved a few feet to the left, to study the next painting.
“Should I be nervous?” she asked. “You look guilty, like you broke a belle époque vase.”
“No, no, all vases are intact,” I assured her, then forced myself to say: “It’s about Ev.”
“Everett?” Isa raised an eyebrow. “What about Everett?”
“Well, we…we, um…” I trailed off, feeling like I’d messed up already. Ev and I weren’t awe.I couldn’t think straight; my insides were churning and wouldn’t stop.
Isa touched my arm. “G?”
