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“I’ve been trying not to look at it,” Tom admits.
I glance toward the canvas Violet started the other night. It might be a picture of me, but all I see when I look at it is Violet. Her talent, her passion, her wide-open heart.
I think of how much fun she had trying to teach me to draw when the power was out, even though I was objectively horrible. Then I think of how determined she was to open her own community art center.
Fuck.
I can’t believe I asked her to give that part of her life up and expected her to thank me for it.
I really am an idiot.
But as I look at the painting—at the evidence of what makes Violet feel alive—the beginning of an idea forms.
“I think I know how to convince her I love her,” I say.
“Hallelujah,” Jaylen says. “What do you need from us?”
I turn to Tom. “Violet talked about this old building in Brooklyn once. She said it was the one she wanted to buy with the money for the fake engagement. Do you know which one she was talking about?”
A smile spreads across Tom’s face. “Yeah, actually. I do.”
Jaylen rubs his hands together. “All right. Let’s go get Gage a wife. But first, pizza.”
I laugh.
For the first time since Violet walked away, I think everything might be okay after all.
Hope hurts. But it’s all I have.
25
VIOLET
Aweek after I walked away from Gage, our fake relationship, and my job as his assistant, I’m lying in bed half-watching bad TV when my phone buzzes.
For a second my heart picks up because even after a week of moping, some part of me wants to believe in Gage. I want him to figure out that he loves me, and that it’s worth trying to figure out our differences.
But it’s not Gage.
Instead, it’s a text from Peggy.
Hey, I don't know what happened, but I just wanted you to know we miss you around the office. Want to grab a drink tomorrow night? I’d like to transition from work friends to regular friends if you’re up for it.
I feel a swell of gratitude. I’d love to stay friends with Peggy. But the idea of putting on real clothes and trekking into Manhattan just so I can decide whether to keep lying to Peggy about my relationship with Gage or tell her the depressing truth sounds way too exhausting.
Rain check?I text back.I absolutely want to grab a drink, but I don’t think I’m up for socializing yet.
She sends me a heart emoji then tells me to take care of myself and promises to reach out next week.
I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling.
At least I got a new friend out of this mess. A friend and a child.
I spread my hand over my stomach. It still doesn’t entirely feel real. I’ve spent the last week oscillating between grief over losing Gage, joy about the kid I’m going to have, and fear that I’m going to mess it all up.
Maria knocks on my door. “Violet? You up?”
I don’t say anything. I love Maria, but I don’t have it in me to nod through another pep-talk. If she thinks I’m asleep, maybe she’ll leave me alone.
