It’s only August, which means the summer sun is still bright and warm as I make my way toward my car. As much as I want to go home to catch up with Chiara in the book, I know if I sit on the couch, I will be watching the door, waiting for her to come home. I find myself doing that a lot, feeling lost nowadays when she isn’t around to brighten up my days, but I know I can’t always be around Chiara. So, I decide to pick up Benz and go for a walk with her, meeting up with Quinn for a coffee. It’s been a while since my best friend and I simply hung out, mostly because I’ve been intoxicated with my new relationship. Quinn deserves better, and I will spend the day with her to be a better friend.
“Hey, stranger,” she says when I meet her at our coffee place, Benz wagging happily at her friend. Usually, Chiara takes her to the gallery with her when she spends the day there, but she needs all of her attention on Mum today.
“Stranger? We spent twenty-two weekends out of the year together, not to mention all of the days we train together and meet up just for fun. I’ll never be a stranger to you,” I reply, moving over to give her a small hug.
“Fair enough, kiddo,” she replies with a little grin, bending down to pat Benz's head.
We settle down in seats across from each other and spend an hour talking about everything and somehow nothing too. I can’t help checking my phone when Chiara messages me, letting me know Mum and her are on the way to the gallery now. Apparently, they were having a late brunch first. I smile at my phone before refocusing on my best friend and continuing our conversation. More time passes until my phone rings in my lap again, Adrian’s name flashing on my screen.
“Hold on, Quinn. I just want to make sure Adrian’s alright. He’s calling me, and he never does that,” I explain and she assures me it isn’t a problem before I hit answer. “What’s up, rookie? Why are you calling me?” I ask as soon as I press the phone to my ear.
“You have to get to the gallery right fucking now, Leonard.” My heart sinks into my chest.
“Why? What’s wrong?” I’m already standing.
“Someone broke in and vandalized the whole place. Hurry up.”
I don’t ask why he’s in England. I don’t ask why he’s at the gallery. I don’t even ask why he didn’t call me before going there first. I tell Quinn what happened and ask her to watch Benz for me instead.
The love of my life needs me, which means I’m already running toward the gallery.
CHAPTERFORTY-TWO
leonard
Chiara is on her knees, holding a piece of her art gallery sign. She hung it a few days ago, and it used to be the name of the gallery.Meteorite. Now it’s torn to shreds, along with the immersive art gallery she was putting together in one of the rooms. She was making her own art. She’d decided on a room full of hanging lights people could walk underneath, making them look like stars in the night sky. It would be an experience where people would get to spend a minute in the room by themselves, in complete darkness except for those lights. Starling finished painting the walls black and hung all the bulbs. Now? They have been crushed into tiny shards of glass and the word ‘Bitch’ is written across the wall. Anger causes the blood in my veins to boil.
But it doesn’t end there.
Someone, and I know it was Tim, took a sledgehammer to the entrance walls and placed countless holes in them. All of the furniture and little things Chiara put into her gallery to make it hers and familiar and comfortable have been destroyed. There is nothing left except for broken pieces of her dream, and it takes everything out of me not to join her on the floor. This is devastating. I know we can easily afford to rebuild this place, I have more than enough money, but it will never be the same as before. All the hours Chiara put into the gallery are lost, and I know she’ll never come home to me again, telling me she’s falling in love with her process. Her heart won’t let her get excited like that anymore, not after everything’s been destroyed. The thought sends tears into my eyes, and I do my best to blink them away because right now is not the time to cry. Chiara needs me.
My eyes drift to Adrian and Mum in the corner of the art gallery where the rookie is holding onto her arm. One of her hands has covered her mouth, and I realise he must have told her what happened in here. I can’t think about that either. I can’t think about how Chiara and Mum walked in here, maybe with Adrian too, who knows, and then my beautiful girlfriend had to go through this without me. It makes me sick to my stomach.
“Sweetheart?” I say so I don’t startle her before placing my hand around her arm. She’s staring at the broken piece of the sign. There are no tears, no emotions, nothing to tell anyone how she feels. Except for me. I can read her as easily as I breathe, and I can see her heartbreak in the way she attempts to hide all of her feelings.
“Tim did this,” she whispers, her voice cracking at the words.
“I know,” I reply, running the back of my fingers down the length of her cheek. Her eyes close in response to my touch, and when they open again, tears threaten to fall down her face.
“And we have no way to prove it,” she adds, sounding stronger and more frustrated than before.
“We have security cameras, baby,” I remind and promise her, but the tears drop down her cheeks while she shakes her head.
“He wiped the footage off the system. I already checked. There is nothing we can do. Nothing!” she yells the last word and throws the piece of her sign at the already broken wall in front of us.
“Chiara, sweetheart, it’s okay. We will figure it out, I promise. Let’s just go home first so I can make you tea to calm your nerves,” I say, but she’s pushing away from me, clutching her stomach and letting me know she’s about to fall apart while I have no idea how to hold her together.
“No, Leonard. You—We—I—” Chiara cuts off, panic causing her breathing to hitch and falter. “I can’t breathe,” she says, more tears streaming down her face. Some fall from the corners of my eyes now too. It’s been a while since I’ve cried, but at this very second, her pain is hitting me harder than any of my own ever has.
“What do you need? What can I give you?” I ask, trying to take a step closer, but she backs away from me.
“I don’t know. But I can’t stay here. This is my fault. This is all my fault, and it keeps being my fault. I can’t do this,” she says, sending a wave of fear through my chest until it settles deep inside my bones.
“This is not your fault, Chiara. I should have anticipated Tim would want to get his revenge. I should have protected this place better.” I should have protected her better, no matter the costs. A security service may not have been something I thought necessary before. It most certainly is now. I will get someone day and night to watch over the art gallery, make sure Chiara is safe and sound here.
“No, Leonard. You can’t keep saving me! Look at this mess. It’s—Everything’s gone to shit. My dream, our dream, it’s gone. Destroyed. Because of me. Because of a man that’s obsessed with me for some reason. Because I didn’t think we needed more protection either. This is on me, and you cannot be the one to fix this. Not again. I can’t—” She’s cut off by a sob leaving her lips, but I’m too scared of what she’s saying to focus on anything else.
“Are you breaking up with me?” I ask, my voice trembling.
