Running in to him at the MoMA had been a shock. She had no idea why he’d gone to her exhibit—plain old professional interest or because it was a connection to her? At one time, she’d imagined spending a day this week on the set, watching the taping, watchinghim. She was curious about how the filming had gone. She missed their nightly chats. But she had work to do. Did she want to open that door again? Subject herself to criticism and be compared to her mother?
She pushed off from the door and paced the living room. Reading the text couldn’t hurt. She clicked on the message and read the brief lines. Tears sprung to her eyes. He wanted to talk. But she just wasn’t sure she could handle the emotional upheaval right now.
The abrasions to her heart and confidence had taken a toll. She curled onto the sofa and played their last conversation in her head. The words still stung. Apology or not, did he still believe them? She’d always been honest with him. With that in mind, she began a reply.
—I don’t think the time is right. I’m exhausted. Have a good trip home.—
She hit send then swiped at the tears that slipped out.
* * *
Nick lunged for his phone as soon as the buzz rattled into the quiet hotel room. Heart pounding, he opened Kat’s response. And it hit like the sharp thud of a door slammed shut. No meet-up to talk. No working things out. No taking back words. Nothing to look forward to.
Resisting the urge to throw the phone across the room, he slowly set it on the bedside table and blew out a heavy sigh. Two days loomed ahead of him. With a little luck, HBTV would need some retakes.How else would he fill the void? He was about to turn out the light but reached for his laptop instead. There was one thing he’d still be doing—his Friday afternoon appointment with the owner of Loft Images.
He’d need to be well-prepared going into that meeting. The real estate search he’d done before initially contacting Pete had provided Nick with a swanky address in Scarsdale, reportedly one of the wealthiest suburb of NYC. Now he needed to be armed with a list of past shows that featured young female artists. He wouldn’t presume to know whether any of them had capitulated to the scumbag’s pressure, but he figured they’d all been propositioned. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a way of finding shows that had been cancelled.
On Friday, officially done at HomeBuilders, Nick stopped inside a second-hand shop near the gallery neighborhoods and bought a funky used tie. When he arrived at Loft Images, he hoped to look the part of an eccentric businessman with money to burn. He also wanted to arrive about five minutes past the two-o’clock appointment time with Pete, so he enjoyed a leisurely lunch at a small diner.
A little after two, he stepped inside the gallery and approached the man at a white and chrome counter to the right of the exhibit space.
“Afternoon,” the man greeted him. “How can I help you?”
“Nick Summers. You Pete?”
“Hey, Nick. I’m Matt. Pete’s on his way. Be here in a couple of minutes. He thought you might like to tour the space while you wait.”
Nick nodded.Yeah, right. Sounded like a power play to keep him waiting. Frowning, he tucked his laptop case under his arm and checked his watch just to make a point. Then he flicked an impatient glance around the room.
“Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Bourbon?”
Nick smiled inside. Sure, he’d take some of the guy’s booze. “Bourbon.”
“Coming right up.”
Nick gave the man a chin bob then turned away.
A few moments later, Matt shoved a crystal tumbler at him. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” Nick took a taste. Not bad. And obviously meant to impress. He pretended to look around then remembered this was the exhibit Pete had put up to replace Kat. He looked closer. Not bad, but not nearly as impressive as Kat’s work.
When the door opened, he raised his brows and put on a mildly annoyed face.
Pete came toward him, arm extended.
Nick was loathe to touch the man, but he took the hand and gave it a hard squeeze. As he suspected, Pete’s soft, wimpy fingers collapsed.
“Sorry I’m late,” he blathered. “Got some things over here for you.” He led Nick toward a counter loaded with artwork. “I’ve pulled out some things that you might like based on our earlier conversation. Sure sorry to hear your ex wiped you out, but good riddance, right? Now you get whatever you like.” He chuckled in an irritating good ol’ boy way.
“Got that right,” Nick agreed though he wanted to punch the guy’s face.
“Now, like I said, I can get other pieces shipped in if you don’t see anything here.”
Nick took his time, pretending to consider the artwork. Then he turned and faced Pete. “What about that Katlyn gal? With the mountain scenes. Watercolor and pastel mix. Thought I saw her name on your calendar, but I’m not seeing her work. She had a couple of things I liked on her website.”
“Oh, yeah.” Pete didn’t meet Nick’s eyes. “That didn’t work out. But hey, if you like mount–”
“Huh, why’s that?”
