Chapter Eight #3
I tried to tell myself most of what he said sounded generic.
“I like art that forces you to take up space with it,” Luca added, turning toward the massive sculpture. “Pieces that don’t just sit in a room—they change the way the room behaves. Yours reminds me a little of Serra, the way it reorients you without you noticing.”
Mateo’s brows lifted, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “That is very high praise. Thank you, Luca.”
Fine. That might have been a little impressive.
Sebastian hummed, eyes still on the sculpture. “It does take up the room. There’s no denying that.”
“Ash is not big on modern art,” Luca said, his palm casually pressed against Sebastian’s stomach.
“That’s not true. I’m very appreciative of the work of Iris van Herpen and Issey Miyake,” Sebastian said, deadpan—like he hadn’t just named two fashion designers at an art exhibit.
I was about to jump in when—
“Of course. Next you will tell me Balenciaga is your favorite painter.” Luca nodded solemnly, then turned to Mateo. “Sometimes I forget he was raised in a boardroom.”
And then Sebastian laughed. His drink was halfway to his lips, his mouth twitching into a grin before he let out a warm huff of laughter. Not the full goofy one, but still real.
“That was a little harsh, don’t you think?” Sebastian leaned closer to him, eyes softening in that playful way that always made my chest tighten. When it was aimed at me.
“Somebody has to knock you down a peg,” Luca replied easily.
“And thank God for that,” Henry chimed in.
Everyone laughed—light, easy, natural. Even Mateo.
Meanwhile, I just stood there with a bitter taste in my mouth and a very strong urge to get the fuck out. I gulped down my drink instead and took a small step back.
“Oli’s the art enthusiast of the family. Ash and I are kind of hopeless,” Henry said, his Spanish bombshell giggling as she moved closer to him.
Mateo’s eyes moved between them.
Luca looked up at Sebastian. “There had to be a catch.”
“Why do I suddenly feel like I’m being graded on my ability to appreciate beautiful things? I think I’m fantastic at it, actually.”
Aria laughed. “It’s good to keep you grounded, Ash. That way not everybody’s dying to be a Langley.”
Another ripple of laughter moved through the group. Sebastian rolled his eyes; Luca smiled up at him—perfect, effortless.
Mateo drifted a little closer to me, and when our eyes met, something unspoken clicked into place. The quiet sting of being on the outside. The Langley rejects.
Fitting.
“Can I get you another drink?” Mateo asked, his gaze dropping to my empty glass.
Relief loosened something in me. I nodded, finally turning my back to the happy little circle. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more.”
We made it all the way to the outdoor bar. Mateo ordered two whiskeys while I leaned back against the counter, letting the night air cool my face. The glass doors were wide open, giving us a clear view of the gallery inside—unfortunately.
“I’m sorry, but this event is terrible.”
Mateo chuckled as he handed me the glass. “I agree with you on that one.”
“I’m always going to be on Henry’s side of… everything, really. But this kind of sucked, and I’m sorry you’re getting your feelings hurt.”
“I’m sorry you’re getting your feelings hurt too.”
My first instinct was to scoff and pretend none of this bothered me, but whatever—we were in the same boat. “They’re just looking a little too perfect tonight.” I shrugged. “I hate that. We never looked like that.”
Mateo frowned, eyes flicking toward the Langleys before coming back to me. “Maybe. But I don’t think so. I’ve only met Sebastian a couple of times, and I’ve never seen the two of you together like that, but with Luca?” He made a small, unimpressed face. “There’s no warmth.”
I stared at him. “What?”
“When people connect—when they’re meant to be together—there’s this thread you can see,” Mateo said. “Even from the outside. I can’t see it. Can you?”
Hope swelled in my heart.
“Henry didn’t tell you?” I muttered. “My judgment is not to be trusted here.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s not supposed to be with anybody else.” The truth slipped out before I could stop it. “He’s mine.”
Mateo didn’t flinch. Didn’t judge. He just lifted his glass. “Then slow and steady wins the race, right?”
A smile curled onto my lips. “If this is you trying to buy my affection as his best friend… well done.” I clinked my glass against his.
His rough laugh vibrated between us.
“And with Henny…” My gaze drifted back to them—Henry pulling away from his date, drinking like he was racing the clock. “He’s got his own shit to deal with, but he’s not trying to hurt you. His heart is huge. He just doesn’t know what to do with that sometimes.”
Mateo’s expression softened. He nodded once. “Thank you.”
We chatted for a little while after that, until he was called away, and then I was left to stew in my own misery again. I didn’t feel like drinking anymore, and I definitely didn’t want to circle back to that group just to say goodbye. I wished I could just disappear for the night.
Even if what Mateo said had made me feel a little better, Sebastian was still back there with him—laughing, teasing, probably going back to his place after and—
Nope. Did not need that visual in my head.
I sighed and pulled out my phone as it buzzed. Four new texts from… seriously? When did he even get my number?
“For fuck’s sake,” I muttered as I typed back.
“Who do you need me to get rid of?” Sebastian’s voice came from my right. I looked up as he slid onto the stool beside me and lifted a hand for a drink.
My eyes flicked over his shoulder, expecting his boyfriend, but it was just him. “One of your junior analysts can’t take a hint.”
Sebastian chuckled. “Unwanted attention?”
I nodded, tucking my phone away. “Very much so. It’s crossed from persistent into full-on stalking.”
He took a sip of his drink, completely unbothered. “Unfortunate,” he said lightly. “But not surprising. Have you seen yourself lately?”
My heart did a somersault—then dipped.
Fuck him.
Why was he always playing with my heart like this?
I smirked instead of calling him out. Instead of turning around and walking away. “Where have your eyes been roaming to? Your boyfriend’s still by the sculpture.” It wasn’t supposed to sound bitter, but some things were inevitable.
Sebastian’s lips twitched. “Just pointing out the obvious.”
I shook my head. That line—the one I knew I should be holding—was already stretching, bending, becoming way too flexible. “What’s so obvious?”
He grinned, devilish as ever. “You’re gorgeous, darling.”
His voice dipped to that perfect, low rumble, and I melted. Like an idiot. I leaned in on my elbows, closing the space between us. Our eyes stayed locked.
“Who could blame anyone for falling head over heels with one look?”
My smile pulled to one side. “Now, would you really say that in front of your brother?”
Sebastian laughed quietly and shrugged. “Why not?”
Was this still just a game to him?
Well, fine. It could be a game for me too.
I scooted closer, lowering my own voice. “I don’t know, friend… Why don’t you tell me what’s so gorgeous about me, and I’ll let you know?”
He didn’t miss a beat. “So many things.”
What was he doing?
“Like what?” I whispered.
The crinkle at the corner of his mouth deepened. “You. Everything. We’re big on art appreciation tonight, in case you haven’t heard, and we’ve established it’s not any one thing—it’s the sum of all the parts.” His brows lifted knowingly.
I bit my lip. “Is it my dazzling personality?”
“That too.”
“My eyes? My hair?”
“All of it.” He almost purred the words.
I couldn’t make sense of it.
“Are you just telling me what I want to hear?”
His smile stretched slowly—too slowly—like he was deciding how much truth he could get away with. Then he leaned back, putting space between us. “You looked upset. Nothing’s a lie, but you looked like you needed to hear it.”
My smile slipped. I was one second away from telling him to go fuck himself or pulling him in by the shirt and kissing him senseless.
I swallowed thickly. “I don’t—”
“Ethan!”
We both turned. Mateo was running toward us, urgency written all over him. The moment our eyes met, he waved me over and spun around, already heading the other way. I didn’t hesitate, following with Sebastian close behind.
“What is it?” I asked, keeping pace.
“Henry—I’m not sure. He keeps saying your name,” Mateo said, breath uneven.
“What?”
He pushed through the crowd and slipped through a doorway into a back room—bare walls, scattered supplies, ladders leaning in the shadows. I opened my mouth to ask again when I saw him.
Henry.
He was on the floor against the far wall, knees pulled in, hands tangled in his hair. An overturned glass lay empty by his feet. He rocked slowly, like he couldn’t quite keep himself steady.
“Henny?” Sebastian’s voice came from just behind me.
Henry’s head snapped up, and his eyes landed on me. Red-rimmed. Streaming.
Oh shit—