Jenny squeezes my arm, then leaves me by the bar. One of his self-portraits faces me, and it’s wrong not to see my own face reflected in his glasses. His dimpled half smile makes a game of Jenny’s list. Which one am I most? Angry, embarrassed, depressed, or worried?
The things I want to say feel sharp, like glass. As long as I keep them lodged in my throat, maybe I’ll still be able to hear him out.
But I’ve heard this before. Chase made excuses right before my demotion, with his “complicated situation” and “you have to understand.” Kael isn’t Chase. He couldn’t be more different. Except the longer his car doesn’t pull up, the harder it is to swallow.
By the time headlights finally sweep across the front windows thirty minutes later, my whole body feels overheated, like someone’s been stoking a furnace inside my ribs. Every swallowed shard melts and slides into my stomach.
Kael looks good getting out of the Uber, like nothing’s broken. He dressed up. Maybe for Alistair, maybe for tonight. The question makes the heat spike, and I take a long swig of beer that does nothing.
His first reaction is to the window display. His eyes go wide. His hand flies to his mouth as he steps inside and takes in the full room. Watching regret flood his face when he sees what he missed is more cooling than the beer.
His gaze tracks over the walls and over every painting until it lands on me. The molten weight in my stomach threatens to overflow, and seeing him jog through the pools of light to the back just pisses me off more.
“Ash.”
I stay where I am, leaning against the high bar table until he stops in front of me. My initial silence turns us into a stalemate of who will break first.
I swallow down one more sharp thing and try saying something neutral. “You sold some art.” It doesn’t come out neutral.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I ended it with Alistair.”
“That sounds familiar.” I grip the bottle tighter, forcing myself to shut up. I promised Jenny I’d hear him out. This is me trying.
“For real this time,” he says. “It’s just… Alistair said he knew about you.”
I breathe, and take another swig to let him keep going.
“He’s manipulative,” Kael says. “He threatened both of us once he knew you worked for Query.”
“I know,” I say, and clamp my jaw before the rest spills out. I shouldn’t have had to hear any of this from Jenny.
Kael looks at me, his self-portrait over his shoulder. In the painting he’s coy and smiling. In front of me his eyes are tight, his lip caught between his teeth, like he’s biting back whatever would make this worse.
I close my eyes, and Jenny’s voice needles through me:Kael doesn’t need fixing.
“I should’ve told you about the gallery,” I say. “It started as a surprise and turned into some fantasy about how you’d see me.”
“Ash, I’m sorry, but… I think you might lose your job.”
The apology I’d barely managed to force out vanishes so fast it’s like it was never there.
“You what?” My arms go rigid, fists curling at my sides.
It takes everything not to shout. Holding it in just melts whatever’s left of that glass in my throat into one heavy, burning mass in my chest.
“He was livid,” Kael says, voice small. “I told you—it’s all some power game.”
My heart hammers against my ribs, pumping heat through my body. I turn away from him and pace, but three steps across concrete do nothing to help.
“I can’t imagine someone playing games like that,” I say, a harsh laugh scraping out. I enunciate each word slowly to keep me from exploding. “What do you mean I might lose my job?”
“I think he’ll try to punish me by firing you,” Kael says.
“And what makes you think that?”
“He said you’d be sorry. He knows everything.”
“Are you kidding?” Whatever I was using to hold myself together gives out. The gallery goes red, and all I can hear is betrayal. “You skipped something I planned, something Jenny told you about, to go talk to Alistair Blackwood, and now I might lose my job?”
