I glanced down at the simple dress. “Thank you.”
“I’m sorry if I said something wrong.”
“You didn’t.”
“I’m just so excited to have my friend here and now I’ll finally have less work all the time so that we can celebrate the end of the year together. You’re the best, and you always cheer me on.” She wrapped her arms around my shoulders in the mirror. “Love you, Bri.”
I smiled faintly, grateful for Gina’s attempt to lift my spirits. “Love you too, Gi.”
The art show was already in full swing by the time we arrived. The gallery buzzed with conversation and the soft clinking of glasses—which were filled with slightly better than decent sparkling wine—echoing off the stark white walls. Light reflected off gilded frames and glossy canvas textures, creating a warm glow across the sea of people in curated coats and careful shoes.
Almost immediately, Gina was swept into a tide of colleagues and admirers, disappearing with a beaming laugh and a glass already half empty. That left Josh and me standing by the entrance, hands awkwardly stuffed into pockets until the tray of wine got to us, each of us taking one.
I held my glass in both hands as his eyes settled on me, like a weight. A silent question. A thread pulled taut and fraying between us.
“I meant to make time before this to talk to you.”
“Oh?”
“I’m sorry,” Josh said quietly. His voice barely cut through the ambient hum of the room, but it still landed square in my chest. “I never meant for things to get this complicated between us.”
“You didn’t make anything get complicated,” I said quickly—too quickly. “I mean …”
“We need to talk. I can’t just let this hang like it doesn’t matter.” His hands shifted deeper into the pockets of his dress pants, his jaw tightening. “I can’t stand you ignoring me now. I didn’t upset you, did I?”
“No,” I said, the word catching in my throat. “Of course not.”
“Because if I did?—”
“You didn’t.”
His mouth pressed into a thin line. He didn’t believe me.
Before I could say anything more, Gina reappeared, her energy like a gust of wind as she slipped between us, entirely oblivious to the storm we were standing in.
“Hey there!” she chirped, eyes bright as she scanned our faces. “How are you two enjoying it?”
“It’s amazing, Gina,” I said, forcing a smile as I glanced around the gallery. “It’s crazy to think you helped put all this together.”
She grinned, satisfied. “Right? And to think people said an art history degree was basically useless.”
Josh huffed a short laugh and shook his head. “It’s really impressive, Gina. Thanks for inviting us.”
“Well,” she said with a teasing scrunch of her nose, “I really just wanted Bri to come, but I didn’t want to be rude by leaving you out.”
“Appreciate that,” Josh muttered, barely masking the edge in his voice.
But Gina was already turning back to me. “Come on. I have someone I want you to meet.”
She grabbed my wrist and tugged me through the sea of guests. I stumbled for a moment, glancing over my shoulder just in time to catch Josh tipping back the rest of his drink, watching us with unreadable eyes.
We weaved past art collectors and press badges, between stretched canvases and minimalist sculptures. My nerves buzzed. Every step away from Josh made my thoughts louder, less manageable. When we finally stopped, Gina tugged me to a halt in front of a tall, clean-cut man in a navy blazer, who was sipping from a stemless glass of red.
“Brielle, this is Alex. He helped support the show and apparently has a thing for books. So, obviously, I thought of you.”
“Alex,” I repeated dumbly, blinking as he offered his hand.
He smiled warmly, showing off straight teeth and a hint of a dimple. “It’s great to meet you. Gina’s told me a lot about you.”
