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I blinked and met her eyes in the mirror. “Doing what?”

“Replaying that endless loop with your dad. I can see the debate playing out behind your eyes.” She stood behind me, twisting one side of her waist-long braids into an elegant updo. Her brown skin glowed under the lamp. “You’ve got the face on tonight, Sam.”

“I do not have a face.”

“You absolutely do. You look like a conflicted heiress who’d rather be anywhere else.” She grinned, the same one that had been our secret weapon since middle school. Leanne’s dad had played for the Lakers, and at Preston everyone called us Cher and Dionne from Clueless. We were inseparable.

My black sleeveless dress was simple and fitted, perfect for the gallery without feeling too formal. I’d curled my brown hair and brushed it out in soft waves around my face.

Leanne caught my expression. “You know, instead of another gallery night dodging small talk, you could actually let me set you up on a proper date. Something that doesn’t involve staring at canvases and pretending you’re not thinking about disappointing your dad the whole time.”

I laughed softly. “A date? With who, exactly? Another one of those rich assholes?”

“Exactly. You keep burying yourself in art like it’s a shield. When’s the last time you went out with someone who wasn’t connected to your dad’s world? You deserve someone who makes you forget the pressure for a night.”

“Leanne, I’ve tried that route. My dad never approved of any of them anyway, and honestly, I never really liked them either. They’re all flashy, cocky, and rich. And that’s exactly why I’m still a virgin. I don’t want to give my body to someone I’ll regret later.”

She sighed dramatically but with affection. “Fair, but you can’t stay in this fortress forever. One day a guy will come along who’s worth the risk, and I’ll be the first to say ‘I told you so.’ For now, at least promise me you’ll keep an open mind tonight.”

I picked up my clutch. “Open mind for the art. That’s my compromise.”

She linked her arm with mine as we headed out. “Deal. But I’m making you expand your horizons.”

We left my condo and made our way down to the street. I flagged down a taxi, and we climbed into the back seat together. The ride through the glowing city streets passed in easy conversation until the driver pulled up right in front of the building.

Inside, the gallery was buzzing when we arrived. The soft jazz, perfume, white wine, and the smell of fresh paint lingered in the air. Leanne glided through conversations effortlessly. I lingered near the pieces, letting the art pull me in.

This felt like home.

We stopped in front of the art piece, After the Fire, in the back room. The piece depicted a woman cradling a child before a scorched field, her face turned away, her hands gentle amidst devastation. My throat tightened.

Leanne glanced at me, “Sam?”

“I’m okay.”

“You look like you’re going to cry.”

“It’s powerful,” I murmured. “The hands especially. Everything around her is ruined, but she’s holding tight anyway.”

A low, assured voice came from behind us. “Precisely.”

I turned and saw Richard Kincaid.

I had noticed him around campus before, but he had graduated two years ago. He was six foot four, with clean cut dark hair, and gray eyes that seemed to pierce straight to your soul. He was effortlessly handsome, with enough confidence to command a room and attract any woman he wanted without trying. Campus talk painted him as the ultimate charmer. A smooth operator. But distant enough to keep us interested and eager. I’d kept my distance on purpose. Guys like that were beautiful complications I didn’t need.

He kept his focus on the painting at first.

“What else draws you in?” he asked.

I paused, then replied. “The smoke on the horizon. There’s this faint red underneath, like the fire’s still simmering.”

His eyes stayed on the painting for a moment before shifting to me. “Most people walk by and just see the destruction.”

I gave a small nod. “A lot of people only notice the destruction because it’s obvious.”

A faint smile crossed his face. “But that’s not what you see?”

“Not really. I see resilience.”