I shot her a sideways glance. “A lot?”
She held up a hand. “An appropriate amount. Nothing that’ll ruin your mystique.”
Alex chuckled, his grip firm and easy. “She undersold it, honestly.”
We fell into casual conversation about the show and books we’d both read. He asked about my writing, my newsletter, the kind of things I liked to explore in my work. It was easy. Comfortable even.
I knew Gina was watching from somewhere with smug satisfaction, probably thinking she was doing me a favor.
But I couldn’t help glancing over my shoulder.
Josh stood across the gallery, half-heartedly chatting with one of Gina’s friends. He was angled just enough to keep me in view.
He was watching.
I hated how much I noticed that.
Alex walked me over to another piece. In front of us hung an oil painting in heavy color blocks that didn’t seem to have a focal point. I found myself nodding to whatever he was saying while counting the seconds until Josh moved again. And he did. Around another corner, like a ghost trailing just a little too close.
“You okay?” Alex asked gently.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry,” I said, faking a laugh. “Just trying to take everything in.”
“It’s a lot. And honestly? I’m impressed by anyone who can navigate this kind of thing without wanting to hide in the corner.”
I smiled at that. “Believe me, I’ve thought about it.”
We chatted a bit more, his questions thoughtful and his laughter easy, but I couldn’t shake the feeling crawling up my spine or the sight of Josh following us around the gallery.
Then came his voice behind me, low and firm.
“Sorry, need to steal her.”
I turned, unsurprised. “Josh.”
Alex blinked, his eyebrows lifting a little. “No problem. I’ll catch up with you later?”
“Sure,” I said a little too quickly.
Josh barely waited for Alex to turn away before speaking. “I couldn’t watch that anymore.”
I arched a brow. “Watchwhatexactly?”
His jaw clenched, but he didn’t answer.
Neither did I. Not yet.
We stood there, in the middle of other people’s art and other people’s conversations, still stuck in the silence between whatever we were and whatever we weren’t ready to be.
“He wasn’t that bad. He was thoughtful and has passion for what he does,” I said. “I get that.”
“Sounds exciting.”
I huffed, looking around for Gina, though she, too, was nowhere to be found. Right now, as Josh held me to his side, I wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.
Good, because it felt sosogood.
Bad, well, because of everything else.
