Chapter 37
The gallery is busier than I’ve ever seen it be. Aadhya and I have been here since the early morning, looking over every last detail, preparing the airy space to welcome all these people.
Now they’re here, champagne flutes in hand, heels and dress shoes sounding sharply against the hardwood floors. The main doors are open to the square, and a band is playing soft music in the grand foyer.
And I feel like I’m not here at all.
Like I can’t focus, can’t think, can’t engage.
On my desk in the back office is a giant bouquet of peonies. So large, that it dwarfs my computer; so large, that all of my coworkers had raised their eyebrows and let out soft oohs and aahs when the flowers were delivered. There was a note attached.
Harp,
Congratulations on the party. I know how hard you’ve worked on it, and you deserve all the success in the world.
There’s a sharp pang in my chest from missing him. It’s only been a few days of sleeping in a hotel, of crying in the shower in the mornings, and of trying hard not to think about him. I mostly fail.
Like now.
As I’m looking around the space at the smiling and happily chatting faces, at Aadhya while she’s showing off a beautiful Covey abstract to a group of well-dressed attendees… I feel numb.
Staying focused on work has been the only thing keeping me going since I left Nate’s townhouse. I’ve thrown myself into my job and welcomed the distraction from my thoughts.
Eitan comes up beside me. He’s been a moving target all night—talking to guests, ensuring that clients who regularly buy from us are happy and feel special. There’s a glass of champagne in his hand that he’s carried for two hours without taking a sip, from what I can tell. Smart move.
“It’s going well,” he says.
I nod. “Yes. I think we already have a few purchasing agreements in place.”
“We do, yes. The large Jaxon Barn sculpture is sold.”
“Really?”
“Yes. And not a day too soon,” he says, and we both chuckle. The piece is not only mildly disturbing but is also so large that it occupies half of the West Room in the gallery. “I haven’t seen Nathanial Connovan anywhere,” he says. “Despite him being confirmed on the guest list.”
I look over at the gathered patrons. “Yes, he was planning on coming, but business prevented him from being here tonight. I got a text just a few hours ago.”
The lie rolls easily off my tongue. I wonder if that’s something I learned from Nate. False impressions and all that.
Eitan nods. “It so often does. Well, I hope you’ve made him aware that he’s welcome for a private tour anytime.”
“I have, yes. He’s always in the market for art.”
“The kind of client we like,” Eitan says. His voice is warmer today than I’ve ever heard it before. Still clipped, though, still sharp. “Harper, you’ve been here almost three months now.”
“By July first, it’ll be three exactly.”
“Your junior trainee position is five months, but I want you to know… We’ve already started considering offering you a full-time spot on our team.”
The words ground me. Full-time. Stay in London.
I’ve been thinking about how quickly my time in London was passing, I found that I wasn’t yet ready to leave. I hadn’t finished my adventure here.
“Thank you. I appreciate that a lot.”
“Would you be interested, then?”
“Most definitely.”
He makes a small humming sound. “Excellent. You and Aadhya make a solid team, and you’ve proven yourself with this bash.”
“I enjoy my work here immensely.”
“I can tell, Harper. I can tell.” He smiles and nods at me, and then he’s off into the crowd, mingling again. Always mingling.
I take a long, slow sip of my champagne.
This party is proceeding nicely. I have new friends in the city. The chance at a permanent job. And, after researching for two hours last night, I even have three viewings for new rental apartments lined up.
Life is good. Life should be good.
But I can’t shake the feeling of sadness.
Once the event is over, Aadhya comments on my mood. She hasn’t said anything all day, but she has clearly noticed. Her voice was soft when she started with a few probing questions while we locked up the gallery and began cleaning up.
“And I heard that you might be offered a permanent position?”
“Good news travels fast,” I say.
She shrugs, reaching for another empty bottle of champagne. “It does. People are excited about the possibility. You’ve charmed everyone here, you know.”
That makes me smile. “I really like this place.”
“Please stay,” she says. “I would hate to have to train another junior trainee.”
My eyes widen. “Because training me was so time consuming, was it?”
Aadhya laughs. “God, yes, you had a hundred questions!” she says. “No, no, you were efficient from the start. It’s not always like that.”
“I would like to stay. I think. It’s just complicated right now with… well.”
She nods. “Yeah.”
I hadn’t told her everything. But enough. “I love this city, though. I would love to stay for a full year, at least. Also, it’s so close to other places in Europe that I could visit. I didn’t realize how many direct flights there are from Heathrow or Stansted. You’re so spoiled.”
Aadhya laughs again. “Geography, love.”
“I need to get out there.”
“You were in Paris like yesterday.”
“Yes, and it made me hungry for more,” I say while grabbing one of the folding chairs we rented for the event. Push it together and lean it against the wall. The janitorial staff will handle most of the clean-up over the weekend, but we need to make sure everything is ready for them.
“Are you going to forgive him?” Aadhya asks. She sets down a big brown paper bag with five empty champagne bottles, and the glass makes an ominous clinking sound.
I sigh. “Maybe. I think… The thing is, I can understand why he thought what he did wasn’t a big deal. He meant well, and I know that. I know he’s nothing like my ex. But he should have known that it would be a major issue for me. Especially when I’m trying to figure out my own life.”
“I get that,” she says.
“My last relationship was stifling. My ex always went over my head, made decisions about money, and set the agenda. He expected me to just roll with it, or worse, be grateful. I lost myself in that, and I never want to lose myself again.”
Aadhya puts her hands on her hips. “He demanded gratefulness?”
“Yes. And it’s not like I wasn’t, but when someone buys you something you’ve never asked for and then holds it over your head like a weapon…”
“Okay, that sounds awful,” she says. “What’s the point of dating a rich man if he’s going to behave like that?”
A surprised chuckle escapes me. She turns, blinking innocently. “What?”
“I love when you say the wildest things with a perfectly straight face.”
A smile curves her red-painted lips. “Have to keep the people guessing.”
“You’re the best at that.”
In the end, we leave the gallery around midnight after locking up and setting the alarm. I walk to the hotel I’m staying at. A rather expensive but absolutely necessary hotel, one that’s thankfully close to work.
For the past two evenings, I’ve walled myself in my room after getting “home” and laid flat on the fluffy bed while watching old reruns of Friends. Ordered takeout and tried desperately not to think about anything at all.
Especially not about the days ahead.
I’m running out of clothes. I’d only packed a small bag, and quickly. The majority of my stuff is still in Nate’s townhouse. In the room that I’ve considered mine for a while now.
Tonight, I manage to get inside my hotel room before the first tear falls. It’s not the first time I’ve cried since we argued, but this time, it feels like a release. Sadness, frustration, and exhaustion are mingled together, and I don’t even wash off my makeup before collapsing into bed.
The champagne I’ve drunk should have stopped my mind from racing. But instead, it seems to egg it on. It’s as if my thoughts are the bubbles in the sparkly liquid, floating quicker and quicker to the surface, and exposing with a soft pop.
I toss and turn in bed. Try focusing on the TV show on my laptop screen, but I can’t. Reposition again. Still useless. Feeling on edge, I reach out and grab my phone.
It’s not the first time I’ve had the impulse, but it’s the first time I’ve given into it.
He answers after the third ring. “Harper,” he says. His voice is gravelly. “Are you all right?”
I pick at the corner of the duvet. “Yes.”
“It’s… nice to hear from you.”
“I got the flowers. Thanks.”
A rustling sound comes across the line, and I imagine him turning over. Lying on his back in the giant bed I know all too well. “How did tonight go?”
“Really well,” I say and clear my throat. “Eitan hinted I would likely be asked to stay in London.”
“Oh. That’s amazing. Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” I close my eyes. Press my hand to my forehead. It’s delicious to hear his voice. I’ve missed him. “I think I might need some more stuff from your house.”
“Of course. It’s all here,” he says, but his voice is hushed. It sounds pained. “You’re welcome. You still have your key.”
“No, I… I left it on the desk in my room when I left.”
“Oh.”
A beat of silence passes between us. We’ve never been silent before. It’s not us, and it’s not the easy, fun dynamic that had made me so effortlessly fall for a man I never planned on loving. I was in deep before I knew I had begun.
Another quiet tear slips down my cheek, and I screw my eyes shut. Why didn’t he trust me with the information? Why did he leave it to Dean to tell me?
And is there a way for me to be with Nate without giving up the life I want to live? Right now, I want that more than I want my next breath.
“Maybe I can come by this weekend.” My voice sounds soft. Not teary-eyed, and I’m grateful for that. Even if my eyes are more than wet.
“Whenever you want. Just text me beforehand, and I’ll make sure there’s someone home.”
“Oh. Are you traveling?”
“No. My siblings are coming. They’re landing in the morning.”
“Everyone? Kids, too?”
“Yes,” he says.
“It’s late, I’m sorry I called. Didn’t mean to bother you, I just wanted…”
“I know,” he says. He clears his throat, a rough sound that reverberates through the phone. “Harper, I’m sorry.”
I swallow hard. Heartache and disappointment form a tight knot in my stomach, and another tear joins its mate sliding down my cheek. In a well-worn path. “I know. I am, too.”
He takes a deep breath. I hear the inhale as if he’s lying right next to me. “I never wanted to hurt you. Fuck, it was the last thing I ever wanted to do. You… you mean the world to me.”
I screw my eyes shut, and this time, I can’t stop my voice from wavering. “I’m sorry, too. For everything. I reacted strongly, but… I just need to think about this.”
“I understand. Take your time, baby,” he says, but he sounds as miserable as I feel. “If I can do anything, anything at all… you tell me. Okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper. “I hope you have fun with your family. I know it means a lot that they’re here.”
“I wish you could meet them.”
I blot my cheek with the edge of the duvet. “Yeah. Me, too.”
“I’ll try to be at the house when you come by,” he says, and his voice strengthens.
“Okay. Good.”
“I miss you,” he says.
If we keep talking, I’m going to burst into sobs. I already feel the quiet tears streaking down my cheeks.
I want him so much, and I want my newfound freedom and the ability to explore a stronger version of myself. A new version. “I miss you, too,” I murmur. “We should go to sleep now.”
“Right. I’ll let you go,” he says. “Sleep tight, baby.”
The familiar endearment hangs in the air between us. “Bye,” I whisper and hit the red button on my phone.
Turning over, I curl my knees up to my chest.
I thought I wouldn’t feel like this again. Heartache wasn’t on my “30 Under 30” list. It wasn’t planned, it wasn’t expected.
And maybe that’s why it hurts so much.
I thought I left the pain behind in New York, but it followed me here.