Page 33 of The Truth of Our Secrets

“Yes, Daddy.” I hang my head as if I’m a child being reprimanded.

“Fuck off,” Cole says.

“I think that’s the shop motto. We should get T-shirts.” I lift my head.

Cole tips his head back, looking at the ceiling as if it holds some answers. Alec winks and gives me a thumbs-up. As fun as this is, I want to get out of here.

I’m dying to see if Madyson texted me about her assistant and I can’t wait to tell her about my promotion.

It’s unhealthy that I want to impress her and get her approval. She’s married, for fuck’s sake. To a man who hates me. Who also gets me hard.

It’s not sane to fantasize about them together. And even worse, to insert myself. No one has ever accused me of being sane.

Walking down the street, I’m second-guessing my decision. Madyson and I text regularly, but only met up once. Dropping by the gallery unannounced probably isn’t a good idea. Her artists could be friends with Jayce.

I’m iffy about how he’ll react when he finds out. It’s not that I care what he thinks, but I’m afraid he’ll be angry with Madyson.

The notebook I found on Etsy will blow her mind. It’s a tracker, so she can transfer all the things she wants to monitor from the computer spreadsheets onto a paper copy. She’s old-school and loves her lists.

As soon as I open the door to The Artistic Edge, it’s clear I’ve made a colossal mistake. I should’ve peeked in the window before entering. Through the glass wall of Madyson’s office, I spot Jayce with a woman and a cameraman. Like a TV type camera.

The smart thing to do would be to back out and pretend this never happened.

But Jayce sees me and barks, “What the hell are you doing here?”

I don’t answer, but my eyes lock on his and some sort of invisible string pulls me toward him. My feet move forward while my brain screams “Turn back, turn back!”

His face looks fine after our fight. I can see an outline, maybe a shadow of the bruise. He either heals quickly or has some seriously natural foundation to cover it. None of my business.

The woman focuses on Jayce and doesn’t spare me a glance. I’m a nobody. Not worth her time.

“This will be quick.” She’s assuring Jayce. “Just give us a rundown of the upcoming events. We can do a voiceover of anything you forget. I’ve already got some footage of the art.”

Jayce has a piece of paper clutched in his hand and it’s shaking as vigorously as his head. I quietly round the desk and place the planner where Madyson will see it. He’s so distracted, he’s forgotten about me.

“Sorry to interrupt.” I move aside, but Jayce shifts and we collide. My body lights up with the brief contact. “I’m gonna go.”

She stares at Jayce, who’s pale and possibly on the verge of vomiting. “You don’t look so good.” She sighs.

“We can do this another time when Madyson is here.” His voice is hoarse, and he swallows hard.

Her shoulders drop and she frowns. “But we already introduced the segment and it will literally take you two minutes. Do you know how hard it is to get a camera guy on short notice?”

Jayce teeters forward. His face has a sheen of sweat, and for a second, I’m nervous his head will smack down on the desk.

“Does it need to be Jayce? Obviously, he’s not feeling well. Was this planned? This appointment isn’t on the schedule.” It’s not a lie. Madyson’s desk calendar lists her next appointment in two hours.

“I’m Britt from Page Seven. Madyson said to come by. She called a few minutes ago, but we got disconnected…” She trails off, studying Jayce. “You seemed fine when I got here.”

“I’m Emmet,” I announce to get her focus off Jayce.

He sinks into Madyson’s chair, his eyes on me. The recognition of what I’m seeing stops time. It’d be easy to walk away and pretend I don’t understand what’s happening. But I do, and even if he hates me, I can’t leave until his panic attack subsides.

Madyson would want me to help him. So I pry his fingers off the paper he’s clutching. It’s a printout of upcoming gallery events with the dates and artists.

“Maybe I can help,” I offer and Jayce shifts so his elbow brushes my thigh. I expect a murderous glare, but he’s looking at his hands. His torso rises and falls, and I assume he’s trying to regulate his breath.

His elbow finds my thigh again, and he exhales. I shift slightly so that Britt and the camera guy won’t notice. My thigh tingles where Jayce’s elbow digs into me. His shoulders relax as he visibly calms.

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