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“Not tonight.” I’m still too shaken to face Matt. I feel almost as if I’ve cheated on him somehow. Like…if I act as if everything is alright, I’ll be lying to him. “I’m a bit tired,” I lie. “I think I’m just going to have an early night.”
He doesn’t insist. “I guess we’ll see each other another time.”
“Hmm.” God, I feel so guilty. “Thanks for the flowers.”
“You’re welcome.”
Just as I end the call, Tana knocks and enters my office. “Deirdre just called. Peter wants to see you.”
“Did she say why?” I suspect that Peter wants to chastise me for my behavior toward Tristan yesterday.
“Nope.”
I gather my things and head to Peter’s office. Deirdre makes me wait two minutes before giving me the all-clear. I walk past her desk into a spacious office with wide windows and a breathtaking view of Central Park.
Peter is standing behind his desk, looking at the view. I don’t blame him. From my position by the door, it’s like staring at a Renaissance landscape painting come to life. Well, apart from the skyscrapers on the east side.
One day, I’ll have an office like this, in this museum or one like it. I’ll be an important fixture in the art world, and never again would I let any man, or any uncontrollable emotion distract me from my dream.
Peter turns around when I enter. “Ha! There you are. Why don’t you have a seat?” He gestures at the sturdy antique chairs on the opposite side of his desk from his huge wingback chair.
I sit and wait as he returns to the desk. He faces me across the huge expanse of polished wood, his gaze measuring and contemplative.
“We finally have a donor for the completion of the new wing,” he says happily.
“How wonderful.” There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. “May I ask who?”
“Tristan Kane.” He smiles. “You met him yesterday.”
Yes, I did.I pull in a breath. So, he’s going to etch his name in my world. The bastard.
“That’s great,” I mumble. “I thought we were going to discuss the proposal for my new exhibition.”
“Yes.” Peter says. “I want you to curate something around the opening of the new wing. A central exhibition. Modern art with a technological twist. In honor of our benefactor. It’s right up your alley.”
My throat tastes like bile. Sourcing the art, organizing the opening, all the connections, all the new art…it would have been a dream come true, if not for the fact that Tristan is involved.
Why couldn’t he just stay away forever?
Peter is waiting for a reply. I nod, even though my neck feels as stiff as ice. “Of course.”
“It’s all extremely high level at this point,” Peter says, unaware of my inner turmoil. “Draw up a schedule and let me know what you plan in a few weeks.”
I should say something, but my throat feels thick and blocked.
“So?” Peter prompts.
I give him a humorless smile. “Do I have a choice?”
He frowns, then in an earnest, concerned tone, continues. “I have to say, this is not the reaction I was expecting.”
My ex-husband is trying to torture me, I scream silently. At best, he’s just here to play games with me. At worst, he wants to rub his success in my face, show me that not even my job is safe from him, and remind me of the wreck I was when he cruelly threw all my love, all our time together back at my face.
“I really appreciate the opportunity,” I tell Peter. It’s what he wants to hear. “I’m looking forward to working on this.”
“That’s what I was expecting.” He smiles, mollified. “We’ll talk more about this. Right now, I have a meeting with the board of trustees.”
I return to my office, cursing Tristan under my breath. On my desk, there’s a filigreed invitation to a city gala. Opening it, I see it’s for charity, for kids. I consider asking Tana who dropped it off, since it’s so last minute. Probably someone in senior management declined to attend, and the museum picked me as a replacement.
