AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Weeks? How can that be? It feels like so much longer.
Remembering her other question, I answer, “Oh, and Zack was . . . let’s be polite and say ‘upset’ about it.”
Elena shakes her head. “Let’s don’t and say we did. Skip the politeness and tell me the good stuff.”
“He punched Carter in the nose,” I confide, almost happy about it now. “And then they talked for like two seconds and it was all good. Men are weird.” I shrug my shoulders, still not sure how that worked out so quickly.
“That they are,” Elena agrees, patting my hand. “I’m glad they got over it. Are they still friends?”
“Oh, yeah. Zack filmed Carter’s proposal right over there.” I point toward my favorite Pollock piece. “And then he was Carter’s best man.”
Elena smacks my thigh . . . hard. Damn, she keeps her butt whooping hand strong! Excited, she asks, “He proposed here? How sweet is that?”
I rub at my thigh, soothing the sting. “I guess . . . but honestly, I kinda thought it was awful.” Elena’s eyes widen in horror, and I rush to explain, “I wasn’t expecting it, and there were people all around us, watching and cheering. I was wearing my uniform.” I gesture to the unflattering navy suit I have on today too. “But he learned, and the wedding was super tiny. That was so much better.”
I smile, remembering. Even though I had a whole-ass panic attack after, I’m glad we were at home, with our best friends.
Home? Is that what I’m considering Carter’s place now?
“Sounds like it,” Elena says kindly.
She peers at me curiously for a moment, and I wonder what other questions she has up her sleeves. Though the conversation has been casual, I realize that it’s been slightly interrogative, with Elena playing the good cop.
“You want to look around some more? I could show you the VR exhibit? Or we’re displaying a permanent collection that is on loan from another donor. It’d be a great example of what we could provide Thomas’s collection.” I stand, pointing toward a hall that leads to the exhibition and hoping to redirect us away from Carter and me and back to art.
“I think I’m good. But I’d love for you and Carter to come over for dinner tomorrow night if y’all are available? Totally casual.”
“Oh!” I have no idea whether we have plans. We haven’t exactly been sharing calendars. We simply come home at the end of each day and spend the night together. But this feels important. For Carter’s deal and for the exhibition, though I’m not sure why. “We’d love to. Can I bring anything?”
“I wish you could bring that sweet Gracie girl, but just bring the two of you, and that’ll be fine.” Elena smiles, gathering both of my hands in hers. It’s not a handshake, exactly, though she is shaking my hands, but rather more like a hand-hug, as odd as that sounds, and she pins me with a soul-searching gaze. “You’re sweet, Luna. Thomas would’ve loved to talk art with you.”
Hot tears fill my eyes. “I think I would’ve loved that too.”
Elena tells me that she’d like to wander back up front on her own, just her and Thomas, she says with a sad smile and her hand over her heart, and I sit down heavily on the bench as I watch her go.
This whole thing is so confusing and makes me feel icky inside because though everything I told Elena just now was the truth, it’s built on the foundation of a lie.
I sit there alone, staring at the floor instead of the art because the bland tile lets me think and process. Sometime later, Maeve finds me. “Luna! Tell me everything!” she demands with a bright smile as she sits down beside me, scooting sexual-harassment close in her excitement. “Josie called me to the desk, and who do I see but Elena Cartwright? How do you know her? Do you know her? She called you Luna Harrington, not Starr, but you’re the only Luna I know, so I assumed she meant you, and you seemed pretty close.”
I lift my gaze, pushing my hair behind my ears and my glasses up my nose so I can see properly. “It’s a kinda long story,” I offer, hoping Maeve won’t ask any further questions.
There is no way I can piece together any sort of explanation that’ll make any sense. Not about being Carter Harrington’s fake wife, and definitely not about being his real one.
“Ooh, isn’t that intriguing?” She waggles her brows at me. “You know I love a bit of mystery. But for now, you can keep your secrets if we can talk about this opportunity for the museum.” She takes my silence as agreement and says, “The Thomas Cartwright? As in, a Thomas. Cartwright. Exhibition? Here?”
