I blink rapidly, trying to process the fact that this famous gallery owner has actually seen my work. “Thank you. Um... I’m flattered you took the time.”
“Rowan insisted,” he says. Gaze flicking briefly to my date, they exchange a look I can’t quite decipher before he dips his chin. “He was quite persistent.”
Heat creeps up my neck as I glance up at Rowan, who’s looking down at me with pride in his eyes.
“Well, then. It was a pleasure to meet you, Lizzy. Now, if you’ll excuse me, duty calls.”
As Marcus walks away, I turn to Ro, eyes wide.
He grins. “Told you.”
“Rowan! There you are!”
Startled, we both turn to see Carrie hurrying in our direction. Slightly out of breath, her blonde hair is just a touch disheveled as she rushes up in a flurry of sparkle and shine.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she pants, flashing me an apologetic smile before turning to Rowan. “ButVanity Fairis doing impromptu shots with celebrity pairs, and they specifically asked for you and me.” She grabs his arm excitedly. “It’ll be great publicity for both of us.”
Rowan immediately shakes his head, his hand tightening protectively in mine. “Not now, Carrie. I promised Lizzy I’d stay with her.”
“But it’sVanity Fair,” Carrie pouts, her blue eyes pleading as they bounce between us. “Their photographer is only here for another thirty minutes, and they specifically asked for us. You know how rare these opportunities can be.”
Body tensing, Rowan hesitates. He glances down at me, conflict written all over his face.
“It’s fine,” I say, surprising myself with how steady my voice is. “You should go.”
“Are you sure?” His eyes search mine, genuinely concerned. “I promised I wouldn’t leave you alone.”
Even with my stomach knotting at the thought of being left all by myself in a sea of celebrities and artists, I wave my hand dismissively. “I’ll be fine. Go do your thing.”
“It’ll be quick, I promise,” he says, squeezing my hand. “Ten, twenty minutes, tops. Then I’ll be back.”
“Take your time,” I say with more confidence than I feel. “I’ll just... wander around.”
She beams at me. “You’re the best! I promise I’ll bring him back in one piece.”
Arm linked through his, she leads him toward a group of photographers set up in the corner as Rowan cranes his head over his shoulder, mouthing “Sorry” as they disappear into the crowd.
forty-eight
And just like that,I’m alone.
I take a deep breath, smoothing down the front of my dress as I lift my chin, trying to act like I belong here.
Please. Like you’re not completely out of your element surrounded by Oscar winners, famous artists and billionaires, babes.
Left to my own devices, I do what any sane person would do—down my current glass of champagne and switch it out with another off a tray from a passing waiter.
Pleasantly buzzed, I turn toward the nearest painting, pretending to be deeply engrossed in its swirling patterns of blue and gold. Truth be told, it’s actually quite stunning. Something about the way the colors blend reminds me of an ocean at sunset.
Bubbles tickle my nose as I sip, wandering through the gallery like I know what the fuck I’m doing. Like I’m not completely out of my depth among all these glamorous, important people who probably discuss Picasso’s blue period over effing breakfast.
The champagne is working its magic, though. My limbs areloose, my smile comes a little easier, and the anxiety that’s been lodged in my throat since we arrived is finally starting to dissolve. I’m actually starting to enjoy myself as I admire artwork ranging from stunningly beautiful to downright bizarre.
I pause in front of a particularly perplexing sculpture that looks like a twisted metal pretzel with eyeballs.
“What do you think it represents?” comes a lilting voice from my right.
Turning my head in surprise, an older woman with dramatically arched eyebrows is studying me instead of the piece of art in question.
