Page 104 of None Of Your Business

Already sold.

A man beside me tilts his head at one of the paintings. “It feels lonely,” he says to the woman with him.

She nods. “But not hopeless.”

I look at the canvas again.

No. Not hopeless.

Looking around, I find her standing in the center of the room, surrounded by people.

Her dress is dark green and simple, fitted at the waist before falling to the floor. Her hair is loose tonight, red against her shoulders, and every time she turns beneath the lights, I catch flashes of gold at her ears.

She looks different. Maybe it’s because she isn’t trying to shrink herself. She stands in a room filled with her work, taking up every inch she’s allowed.

She looks beautiful while doing it.

I keep moving until I reach the back wall, where her centerpiece hangs.

The two submerged figures.

The piece is stunning under the gallery spotlights, with its deep blues and murky greens pulling you straight into the water. But what stops me isn’t the painting. It’s the woman standing in front of it.

Donna stands completely still, her hand pressed over her mouth, tears streaming silently down her face as she stares up at the two fractured shapes reaching for each other beneath the surface.

Rowan steps away from what looks like a member of the press, stands beside her mother, and takes her hand.

“Are you looking at the art, or my sister?”

I turn around to see Noah standing beside me.

I shake his hand before I answer, “Both.”

Rowan and Donna laugh at something.

“It’s good to see them like that,” Noah says quietly. “My mother loves all of us, but there’s always been this guilt with Rowan. Neither of them ever talks about it.”

“I’m not her doctor, Noah. The house call was just a favor to Beckett, and I answer questions when I can.”

“I’m not telling you because of my mother,” he says plainly, staring straight ahead.

I look back at Rowan. I think about her crashing my research room. Inventing a dead husband named Roger. Calling me from a dark street after a rough night. Painting until her joints gave out.

Noah turns to face me. His voice stays quiet, but the tone leaves no room for misunderstanding.

“She’s my baby sister,” he says. “Which means I’m obligated to tell you once: if you hurt her, we’re going to have a serious problem.”

I hold his gaze and nod once. “Understood.”

Noah checks my face for a second, satisfied, then pats my shoulder and walks off toward the rest of the family at the bar.

When I turn back, Rowan is looking directly at me, her expression changing the second our eyes meet. She whispers something to Donna, who turns, locks eyes with me, and smiles. Rowan presses a quick kiss to her mother’s temple, then weaves through the crowd straight toward me.

Why the fuck is my chest pounding?

“You came,” she says, smiling at me.

“Why wouldn’t I?”