Page 51 of Ex Marks the Spot
“The art gallery. Her showcase is tonight.”
“What time does it start?”
“Six, I think, but I don’t want her to see me.”
“We’ll go at six-thirty and watch the crowd. When there’s enough people in the gallery, we can go in and see her without her knowing.”
Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation, but I actually consider Ella’s plan and whether we can pull it off. The crowd should provide enough cover, right? But if it doesn’t work, I risk traumatizing Hartley all over again on the one night she’s worked all year for. “I don’t know, El. It seems pretty risky to me.”
“Is it a private event?”
“No.”
“Okay, then.” She pulls me off the couch and pushes me toward my bedroom. “You’re taking a shower, we’re going out for some melatonin and something nice for me to wear, and we’re going to the gallery.”
“I think it’s safe,” Ella says.
The knots in my stomach pull tighter. This is a terrible, terrible idea. “Maybe we should?—”
“Get out of the car? I agree.” She exits the driver’s side and starts toward the gallery with the same level of confidence that undoubtedly landed her the role inBargain Assassin.
“Dammit,” I mutter, catching up to her lead.
She grabs ahold of my arm and we shuffle in behind a small group of attendees. “Do you know where she’s set up?” she whispers.
I shake my head, a familiar vibration coursing through my veins as I scan the crowded room. Even though I don’t see Hartley yet, I swear I can feel her. I pull in a slow breath and then my feet are moving of their own accord, weaving us around clusters of bodies and other capstone displays until we reach the back corner of the gallery.
I hear her first—a quiet laugh that ignites a fresh ache in my heart—before a patron steps aside, giving me a clear view of the woman I forced out of my life. My lungs seize in a weird paradox of not being able to breathe while simultaneously feeling like I can breathe for the first time since our breakup.
“I hate that she looks so beautiful,” Ella whispers.
And she is.
So. Damn. Beautiful.
Her floor-length dress is what she calls “van Gogh blue,” and her wavy brown hair has been clipped to one side to cascade over her shoulder. She looks like a Hollywood starlet rather than a woman whose boyfriend ripped out her heart three weeks ago.
Her only outward sign of nerves is the way her fingers twist together, but I don’t think anyone will notice that. They’ll only see exactly what Ella sees—a gorgeous, phenomenally talented artist on the brink of an incredible career. I want to pull her into my arms and tell her how proud of her I am, but it’s not worth the damage to my balls and/or windpipe.
I’m about to tell Ella we need to leave when Hartley’s gaze collides with mine. Her luminous smile vanishes, and her face becomes a kaleidoscope of emotions: shock, confusion, hurt...and then rage.
“Oh hell no,” Ella says quietly. “This is a public event. She doesnotget to break up with you and then get mad when you show up here.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to defend Hartley, but I can’t do that without coming clean about the lies I told my sister yesterday...and the lies I told Hartley when I ended things. I go for a partial truth instead. “I don’t think she recognizes you and assumes I’ve brought a date.”
Ella’s eyes sparkle with mischief. “Now that’s something we can work with.”
“Meaning . . . ?”
She tosses her head back with a slightly too-loud giggle. Several heads around us turn in our direction, but Ella ignores the attention.
“What are you doing?” I whisper-shout.
“Exacting some revenge.” Her hands fiddle with my tie while she beams up at me. “No one treats my big brother like crap and gets away with it.”
My stomach lurches as I glance back at Hartley, whose glare reads,Fuck off all the way to Satan’s tea party in the seventh circle of hell.I’m debating whether to set the record straight when she cocks a fist and sends it through the blank canvas beside her. The gallery falls into stunned silence, but she just smiles like it was all planned.
“Thank you for attending tonight’s performance ofThe Evolution of a Lie. Good night.” Without missing a beat, she gives her audience a quick bow and beelines toward the back exit.