Chapter Thirteen
Dani
The sun streamed through my studio’s wall of windows as I made coffee, brightening my whole apartment to match the lightness buzzing inside me. I almost didn’t need the coffee. Not when I still thrummed from the night before.
It had been the most fun I’d had in years.
Maybe that was sad that at thirty years old, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d hung out like that with a group of people my own age. But it only made me more grateful for this group of people who had given it to me again.
For Zach, who had me keeled over laughing from his story about his first time on a food line and how he dumped scalding hot water over himself while trying to clean up a pot of burned caramel. And Aubrey, who’d brought out a leftover slice of chocolate mousse cake with raspberry sauce to share. It was only big enough for each of us to get one bite, but it may have been the best bite of my life.
That was true for everything I ate at that restaurant, but dammit, those people could cook.
They were kind and talented and cool , and I felt like the new kid in school, hoping they would let me keep sitting with them during lunch.
Which meant, naturally, I felt the need to work from home today—my actual home—so I wouldn’t appear too eager to be a part of their clique and wear out my welcome.
Overthinking truly was my superpower.
It did have a plus side, which was that my brain’s running loop of the things I did or said last night that could have been at all embarrassing kept me from fixating on the possibility of someone leaving death threats in my mailbox. Not that those particular nerves had vanished, but at this point, they’d more or less become my new baseline, an ever-present anxiety simmering on the back burner. The office was still getting hate mail, some of it addressed to me, but the fact that I hadn’t gotten any at home made me think Geffery was right and whoever left the note on my car had no plans to take things further.
I might have felt relieved if it wasn’t for the swarm of butterflies that had taken up residence in my stomach ever since Jase had invited me to his friend’s art gallery.
They were different from my usual anxiety nerves. Less of an unrelenting squeeze of my ribs and more of a restlessness, like a hamster running wild on its wheel beneath my sternum.
Almost like excitement.
To go to an art gallery, which I hadn’t done since leaving Chicago four years ago.
To potentially land a one-of-a-kind piece to include in the gala’s silent auction. Something that would make our event stand apart from the dozens of other fundraisers these donors likely attended, all offering some version of a spa package or a weekend getaway at a nice hotel.
To get a little dressed up and explore more of the city I’d lived in for six months and still barely knew.
To have fun like I did last night. To let my guard down a little and laugh, enjoy someone else’s company.
Jase’s company.
I liked Jase’s company.
He was confident like Alec in a way that put others at ease, but Jase’s was more of a quiet confidence. This bubble that slipped around you and lifted you up, bolstering you as it floated around the room. He never made me feel like I had to keep up, like I’d get left behind if I couldn’t match the energy in the room or the pace of the conversation. There was no competitive edge, no display to present. He was just there as himself, making space for others to do the same.
I’d never expected it to be that way with him, especially after the disastrous start to our acquaintance. What I’d thought would be us gritting our teeth through the awkwardness long enough to get done what we needed to had become something almost like a friendship. One I found myself hoping I wouldn’t have to give up once the symposium was over.
That was the thought I held on to as I got ready for the night.
I gave myself an hour, spending a little extra time curling my hair and applying a touch more makeup than usual. I tugged on a light pair of jeans and a strapless bodice, tying it together with a belt and sandals.
Nice, but still casual. This was technically a work meeting, after all, so I wanted to look presentable. But not like I was trying too hard.
Not like I thought this was a date.
I knew it wasn’t. Sure, Jase and I could be friends, but more than that was…ridiculous wasn’t a strong enough word. The only reason my heart was pounding was because I was eager to finalize the silent auction. And the only reason my palms were sweating was I’d started walking to the gallery Jase had texted me the address for, which turned out to only be a ten-minute walk from my apartment, and it was still hot out, the evening sun hanging low in the sky.
I was a block away when I spotted him. He leaned beneath the gallery sign, one heel propped on the wall behind him while he looked down at his phone. He wore dark jeans and a white button-down shirt, untucked, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
My mouth went dry as I soaked him in. I always seemed to forget how attractive he was until he stood in front of me, making every cell of my body hum. It was like he was too much for my brain to process. Even the way he leaned was sexy—careless in his confidence as he waited like he had all the time in the world. And he’d waited for me to go in.
Alec wouldn’t have done that.
The thought struck me with a jolt so hard I nearly stumbled. Alec would have gone inside and talked with his friend, assuming I’d meet him in there. It wasn’t something about Alec that had bothered me when we dated, but in comparison, this was everything.
I didn’t have to linger outside and wait for him to respond to my text. Or wander inside by myself without knowing if he was there yet. Or worry about making my own awkward introduction to his friend if he wasn’t. There was nothing to overthink or second-guess. It loosened a layer of tension in my muscles as I approached.
“Hey,” I said.
Jase lifted his head and froze. His eyes tracked their way from the top of my head down to my feet and back up again until they landed on my face, his gaze like a physical touch that scorched my skin and sent my pulse racing. When his stare connected with mine, it was nearly too much to hold, his eyes churning waves of blue intense enough to drown in.
I almost wanted to.
He pushed away from the wall and cleared his throat. “Hey.” His deep tone sent a shiver across my collarbone and tugged at my core. “You look nice.”
I adjusted the strap of my purse on my shoulder and tried to calm the pounding of my heart. “Thanks. You too.”
He grabbed the handle to the gallery and pulled, holding the door open for me. “After you.”
I stepped inside, catching the subtle spice of his scent as I passed. I fought the urge to close my eyes and breathe deep.
A blast of cool air hit me, raising bumps along my arms as I continued into the space, and the moment I did, color flooded my vision.
The gallery was one large room that extended to the back wall of the building with ceilings so high it felt like they weren’t there. The floors were a polished wood, the walls simple white, but lining each of them were the most beautiful oil paintings, all in a similar style, probably done by a single artist. Additional paintings were displayed on dividers hung throughout the room.
I took it in with wide eyes until Jase placed his hand on my lower back, drawing all my attention to that point of contact and the warmth of his palm through my top. He guided me with gentle pressure toward a reception desk in the front corner.
“Jase, my man.”
A British accent pulled my focus to a sharply dressed man about Jase’s age who pulled Jase into a bear hug. Jase lifted his hand from my back to return the embrace, and I chose not to focus on the pang of disappointment in my chest as cool air replaced his touch.
“How are you, mate?” the guy said, giving Jase a final slap on the back before releasing him.
Jase’s grin filled his whole face in a way I hadn’t seen before—totally unrestrained. “I’ve been good. Been meaning to stop in for a while.”
His friend waved him off and adjusted the cuffs of his royal blue shirt, the color playing off of the cool tones of his dark brown skin. Every detail of his look was polished, from his leather shoes to the short twists of his hair and his trimmed beard. “I know how it goes. I haven’t made it to that fancy restaurant of yours yet, so we’re even. Though I’ve heard some excellent things from a few clients of mine.”
“Did you tell them they must be mistaken?” Jase asked.
His friend flashed his own wide grin. “Tried to warn them away multiple times. People don’t listen to reason.”
Eyes still alight, Jase gestured to me. “This is Dani. She’s organizing the fundraiser I told you about. Dani, this is my good friend Colin Kentwood. Don’t listen to a word he says that isn’t about art.”
“Excuse me,” Colin said, “but whose mouth got us in trouble with the Italian police?”
“That is an extreme exaggeration of what happened,” Jase said in defense.
Colin lifted my hand and dropped a kiss on the back of it. “It’s not,” he whispered.
I pressed my lips together to restrain my laughter.
Jase rolled his eyes with a smirk and reached for my hand. “She’s too smart to be swayed by your flirting,” he said as he slid my fingers from Colin’s grasp. His touch lingered against my skin, thumb brushing my palm once before he pulled away. I clutched my bag to keep from reaching after him. “You going to show us some art, or what?”
“Apparently, that’s all I’m good for,” Colin said as he ushered us into the main part of the gallery.
Jase patted his cheek as he passed. “You’re pretty too.” He blew a kiss, and Colin swatted his hand away.
I was as enthralled by their back-and-forth as I was with the art. I’d seen Jase joke around with his staff before and laugh at their ridiculous stories, but he always remained one step removed, never forgetting he was their boss or crossing that line into something unprofessional.
With Colin, none of that power dynamic existed. They were straight-up playful with one another, even after not seeing each other for what sounded like a long time. It was kind of beautiful to watch.
“This showcase is for Mia Cordero, one of our local artists. She’s built quite a following in recent years,” Colin explained as he led us around the room. Benches were spaced throughout, some of which had people sitting on them, admiring the art.
“I can see why,” I said. “There’s such movement to them.”
“Are you an art fan?” he asked.
“I’m not a collector or anything, but I do appreciate it. My dad’s a photographer, so I used to go to a lot of art shows with him as a kid.” I felt Jase watching me, taking in this new information.
“Oh, brilliant,” Colin said. “The first gallery I ever worked at was a photo gallery in London. It’s amazing how clearly some people see the world through a lens.”
Bitterness mixed with longing in my chest as I studied the canvas in front of us. “And how much they can miss outside of it,” I murmured.
When I turned, Colin had already moved on to the next piece, a smaller canvas displaying multiple women painted in a simplistic design, all in shades of reds, pinks, and purples. Their bodies were draped over one another, limbs intertwined in a human knot.
Jase stood behind me, gaze fixed on me. He studied me in that way of his that felt like he was staring into my soul.
For a moment, I let him. Then I followed Colin.
We perused the gallery for an hour or so, Colin giving us the vivid backstory on many of the paintings. He shared insights from the artist and revealed his favorite pieces.
Jase surprised me yet again by sharing his own thoughts on the art, and not just, “It looks cool.” Don’t get me wrong, that was a perfectly valid reason to like art—but he was talking color theory, composition, contrast, and texture. It reminded me all over again that Jase was an artist too, his food as layered and complex as any of the pieces in this gallery, and it suddenly made perfect sense why these two were friends.
“So,” Colin said as we returned to the reception area at the front of the gallery. “What do you think? Would Mia’s work be a good fit for your auction?”
Was he kidding? “It’d be perfect,” I said.
“Great. We had four pieces in mind.”
I waved him off. “Whichever one you decide on is fine by me. Seriously, they’re all amazing.”
Colin chuckled. “No, I meant we want to donate all four.”
I looked at Jase, who was trying to hide his grin, then back at Colin. “Four? Of these paintings?” I pointed behind me.
Colin shrugged. “Mia feels strongly about your organization’s mission, and it speaks closely to the themes of her work. She was excited to do it.”
“That’s…” My mouth hung open, waiting for words that never came.
These paintings sold for thousands of dollars each. Assuming they auctioned for over the market value—which they would, given the artist’s popularity—this donation would bring in a huge chunk of money at the fundraiser. More than I’d thought possible. The flood of gratitude was too much for me to process.
“Thank you,” I finally said.
I told him I’d be in touch tomorrow to arrange the details, and we said our goodbyes, he and Jase sharing another vicious hug before we stepped back out onto South Street and into the clear summer night.
A motorcycle roared by, the sounds of the city crashing upon us all at once, making the quiet serenity of jazz music and murmured conversation we’d left behind feel like another world. One I wasn’t sure had even been real.
I stole a glance at Jase, who walked alongside me with his hands in his pockets. “I can’t believe you got me four paintings for the auction.”
He laughed quietly, triggering a flutter of something fuzzy in my chest. “All I did was send a text. Colin’s the one who came through.”
Maybe. But Jase had sent that text without prompting. He’d seen a way he could help, so he did. Just like he’d done for me again and again this past month and a half. It meant more to me than I knew how to say.
“How’d you two become friends, anyway?” I asked. We continued to stroll down the sidewalk with no particular destination in mind.
“I worked in London for a couple of years as a line cook, and he grew up there with one of the guys I worked with. We went out as a group a bunch of times, and the two of us just sort of clicked. He spent all his time in the photo gallery he mentioned, while I was working sixty-hour weeks at the restaurant trying to learn as much as I could and not get yelled at in the process. We both had these visions of what it would be like when we were the ones in charge.”
“And now you are,” I said.
He chuckled. “Yeah, by some miracle.”
“That’s right, you apparently came dangerously close to serving life in an Italian prison.”
He huffed. “They claimed to be off-duty police, which I’m still not convinced of, and we were all plastered.”
I laughed, my chest light. A soft breeze grazed my skin, carrying the lingering scent of summer with it. He moved closer to me so someone could pass by on the sidewalk, and I caught his intoxicating scent again too.
“You know how in high school, adults always said the friends you meet in college become the best of your life?” he asked.
I nodded.
“I always thought it was bullshit. Friends were just friends, you know? And then I met Colin, and I got it. It’s been over ten years, and he’d still do anything for me, even when we haven’t seen each other in months. I don’t know why, but I’m fucking grateful.”
I knew why. Because Jase was that way for everyone in his life. Staying under budget to protect Jillian’s finances, letting me work at the restaurant when I would only get in his way, making sure his staff got fair wages and paid time off. He cared so much about others, and he didn’t think anyone noticed.
“I have one friend like that,” I admitted. “We didn’t meet in college either.”
I hadn’t stayed close with my college friends. After graduation, we spread out to different parts of the country, and soon, our lives were all in different stages—some of us getting married, some having kids, others catapulting in their careers. And then there was me, just kind of…trotting along doing none of it.
“Where’d you meet?” Jase asked.
“Dance camp. Seventh grade.” My lips tugged up at the memory. “We were roommates.”
He pulled back in surprise. “I’m sorry, dance camp? Like ballet or hip-hop?”
“A mix. Ballet and contemporary mostly.” It felt like a lifetime ago at this point.
“So why didn’t you become a dancer?”
“No way,” I said, shaking my head. “I wasn’t good enough.” Which was true. Also true was the fact my mom would have developed a stomach ulcer if I’d tried for the arts. Following in my dad’s footsteps instead of her own, shattering glass ceilings? Absolutely not. “I joined a dance club freshman year of college, but it didn’t quite feel the same, and…” I shrugged. “I figured it was time to focus on something else. I just had a harder time than I thought I would finding what that something should be.”
I’d switched my major twice before settling on marketing. It wasn’t that I’d loved it so much as it seemed like a reliable way to make a living, and I hadn’t been able to think of anything I might like better. My mom’s easy acceptance of it hadn’t hurt either.
“Rachel and I still talk, though. We send Christmas cards to each other and try to get together in person at least once a year.”
And when I broke up with Alec, she’d been the only person who didn’t second-guess the decision, including myself. She’d trusted my instincts more than I had, in a way not even my parents had before, and her trust in me was a huge part of why I didn’t try to get back with him right away. Or rather my trust in her. Like if she believed in my judgment, maybe I should too.
I’d thought for a long time that I’d made the right call. Seeing how happy Alec was with Stephanie, like they were made for each other, made me think we were never really meant to be together. But it was only recently I’d started to feel that way too.
The sidewalk opened up to the main thoroughfare of Broad Street, and Jase and I both looked left and right, deliberating which way to go. My apartment was left. Ardena was right. I didn’t know if that was where Jase would go or if he had other plans for his night off, but I figured this was where we would part ways. My stomach sank at the thought.
He gazed over at me, something almost shy in his expression. “You…wanna grab something to eat?”
That sinking feeling evaporated, my entire chest lifting as my lips tugged up. “I know a place.”