Page 9 of For the Love of Art

I opened my mouth to protest, but what was the point? To start with, I spilled coffee all over his likely expensive suit. Secondly, I lived in New York. The chances of me seeing that man again were slim to none. Instead, I gathered up my belongings, picking up the invitation from Nathan last. I held it in front of me, reading it over again, but this time, I noticed a handwritten note in the corner.

I hope to see you again. N.M.

I looked over my shoulder into the tinted glass doors of the gallery. I could see the silhouettes of people walking around. I walked over to a garbage can, moved the invitation toward its opening, and then stopped. Blowing out a steadying breath, I tucked the invitation back into my purse and headed home.

“This is so cool!” Lianne held the invitation as I grabbed two wine glasses from her cupboard.

“Is it?” I asked.

“Of course!”

A lot of grunting followed her exclamation. I walked over to the table where she was fighting with the wine’s cork.

“Here.”

I took the bottle from her, working the corkscrew back into the soft wood.

“Anybody who is anybody in New York is going to be there,” Lianne gushed as she sat down.

The cork finally gave way. I poured the dark purple liquid, watching it swirl and dance before settling at its final destination at the bottom of the glass. I handed a glass to Lianne and then sat across from her.

“Anybody who is anybody of the art world.”

“And likely some celebrities.”

I shrugged. “Maybe.”

“At the very least, hot men.” Lianne winked before taking a sip of her wine.

I shook my head and took a sip. The warm notes hit my mouth and then smoothly went down my throat. I would rather focus on the wine than continue this conversation with Lianne.

“We’re going, right?”

“No.”

We both looked down at the invitation between us on the table.

“Isla,” Lianne whined, “we never go out. One of the hottest bachelors in New York invited you to his gallery opening. In person!”

I took another sip of my wine.

“Please,” Lianne begged before pushing out her lower lip.

She looked longingly at me, and I groaned.

“Fine.”

Lianne clapped her hands excitedly as she did a little dance in her chair.

“Yay,” I feigned excitement, then looked sternly at her. “We’re not staying long, though.”

Lianne put up her hands. “That’s fine. Long enough for me to scope out the sexy art-scene men.”

“Speaking of men, no, Frankie. I only have a plus one, and he’d make a bigger deal of this than you.”

“How is this not a big deal? Nathan Manning asked you to his opening,” Lianne said, gesturing wildly. “You should invite him to your opening.”

My stomach flipped. Traitor. Then I thought of Maggie in the gallery’s bathroom. She seemed to have fallen victim to Nathan, and I wasn’t about to be her. I wasn’t about to be another woman walking along Fifth Avenue carrying her heels in one hand and hiding her makeup smudged face.