My heart skips a beat.My work.
The thought of having my art displayed in a world famous gallery is too good to be true, a dream I never let myself consider. But shame fills me. How could I let Eliza down by saying no? Not just me, but all the other students, people like me who never thought they’d have a chance. People she’s believed in. But I’vealways stayed in the shadows, and this would put me on display. Which means I can’t do this.
“I can’t help you, Oliver. Find someone else.”
“There isn’t anyone else,” he says firmly. “No one who knows me, who understands art, and who could make it believable.”
“But it wouldn’t be real.” The words come out softer than I intended. Why does that matter? Shouldn’t I be relieved it would be temporary?
“We’ll annul the marriage as soon as I secure the gallery,” he insists. “I’ll do anything. Name your price.”
I stare at him, searching his face for any sign of a playful smirk, a flicker of humor, really anything that might tell me he’s joking. But the familiar spark is gone, replaced by a heavy, desperate look that I hardly recognize. His shoulders slump, his eyes dark and distant, as if he’s carrying the weight of something he can’t put into words.
“You’re serious?”
“Yes.” He reaches out, trying to touch my hand, but I slip off the stool, putting some distance between us. I need space to think.
The idea of helping his mom is sweet, and I can’t deny that. Eliza gave so many students like me a chance when the art world wanted nothing to do with us. A gallery dedicated to showcase our work could change lives. Even if I chose to keep my own art hidden, could I really stand in the way of others getting their big break?
“What does your mom think about all this?”
“She doesn’t know,” Oliver says, his voice dropping to nearly a whisper, eyes softening with what looks like genuine affection. “I want it to be a surprise. She’s always dreamed of having this gallery, but Mr. Warne never seemed interested in selling before.”
I cross my arms, hesitating. Something about the timing feels off. “I heard his wife had a health scare.” It’s a rumor that’s been circulating in the art community for weeks now.
His eyebrows knit together, a flash of surprise crossing his face.
“I overheard Mrs. Bennett talking about it at school,” I explain.
He nods slowly, processing the information.
“So, what do you think? Will you marry me, Karley?” His expression is a mix of determination and something almost vulnerable as he drums his fingers against his leg.
My heart pounds a powerful beat. The guy I had a crush on, is standing right in front of me, asking me to fake-marry him. For a moment, it’s almost surreal. But as much as I care about his mom, I just can’t do it. I don’t think I have what it takes to get over him a second time.
“I’m sorry, Oliver. As much as I love your mom, I can’t.”
His shoulders sag, and for a moment, he looks defeated. But he quickly pulls himself together, standing up and offering me a small smile. “I understand. I’ll let you go. Goodnight, Karley.”
“Goodnight.” I’m relieved he agrees.
I watch him leave, and as soon as the door clicks shut behind him, I rush to lock it, leaning against the wood to catch my breath. My heart is still pounding, my mind spinning. I should be relieved that he’s gone, but I’m not.
There’s only one thing that will calm me down right now… painting.
I grab a blank easel, set up my paints, and begin. The only way to get Oliver out of my head is to lose myself in something I love more.
Chapter 9
Karley
ThankGod,it'sFridayso I could finally sleep in. I’m stretched out on the sofa, sipping my coffee and watching a new show, my mind drifting back to the property. I’ve put some earnest money down, but I still need to figure out where to get the rest before the thirty-day window is up. My phone rings, interrupting my thoughts.
I glance at the screen and recognize Hugh’s number. My pulse quickens as I answer. “Hello?”
“Hi, Karley, it’s Hugh. How are you?”
I sit up, trying to sound casual. “I’m good, and you?”
