Page 93 of Second Shot

It’s something I would have done without hesitation in the past. I can’t count the number of bottles we finished together over theyears.

Maybe it’s me who’s being weird andawkward.

This isFelix.

One of my bestfriends.

The man who was there for me when no one elsewas.

“Um.”

“Come on, Brynne.” He gives me a lighthearted smile. “We’recelebrating.”

“Celebrating?”

“I wasn’t going to say anything yet, but I spoke with Gisselle Peppers, and I may have gotten you a spot in her gallery nextmonth.”

“You’rekidding?”

“She just wants to see one of yourpieces.”

“Oh my God,” I squeal, which is something I never do, and throw my arms around his neck. “Thankyou.”

“You know I’d do anything for you.” He holds me a little tighter, and when I try to pull away, hehesitates.

“Felix,” Iwarn.

“Sorry. Hard habit to break.” He lets me go. “Now let’s get that glass ofwine.”

Forgetting my initial unease, I lead him into the kitchen and pull out a bottle of Chardonnay from the winecooler.

“Where’s Noah?” he asks, taking the glass I handhim.

“A friend’s watchinghim.”

“Too bad. I was hoping to see him. I bet he’s gettingbig.”

“He is.” Guilt creeps into my chest. I’ve been a terrible friend lately. Especially after everything he’s done for me. “I’m sorry I haven’t called. Things have been hectichere.”

“I heard about yourfather.”

Everyone has. It had been all over the news, which only pissed the man off more than he already was. Because one thing Steve Jacobs hates is being seen asweak.

I take a sip of my wine, and I let him talk, listening to him go on about his latest projects. We quickly fall back into our old easydialogue.

Almost an hour goes by, and I’m shocked when I realize we’ve finished off the bottle ofwine.

He lifts the empty bottle and raises a brow. “Anotherone?”

“No. I better not.” I’m already feeling a little wobbly andlightheaded.

“Always a lightweight.” He chuckles. “Why don’t you show me those newpaintings?”

He’s close, closer than he needs to be when he follows me down the hall toward the room where my work is setup.

“So, this is what you left me for.” He goes to the windows and stares out at the city below. “Can’t say I blameyou.”

I frown, because I can’t tell if he’s joking or being serious. “Felix.”

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