Page 106 of Caper Crush
“Well, that supports his point about wanting to talk to increase the chances of your calling him.”
“Ugh, so complicated,” Tessa says. “Okay, I’ll call him and invite him out for drinks next week.”
“Thanks for listening to me. How much was that session?”
“I’m not through with you yet. You should text William and make sure he knows you think this relationship does work.”
I slump down on the couch and bury my face in my hands. I’m so disappointed with myself. I do trust William, and I shouldn’t have spied on him. I didn’t mean to hurt him like that. I’ll apologize tomorrow in person at the art show—or at his apartment if he doesn’t show up.
Chapter twenty-seven
Holdingmyumbrellaslantedagainst the wind and sleeting rain, I walk down a wet, cobblestone street, deciphering the building numbers, trying to find the Tribeca gallery holding this exhibit.
There it is. I pull the door open, tugging it hard against the gale sweeping off the Hudson. Inside, it’s a brick-walled room with high ceilings, crowded with people.
I hang my soaking raincoat up on the coatrack and place my umbrella in the black, plastic receptacle labeledWet Umbrellas.
An alcove beckons off to the side. A mix of couches cluster in the middle where people socialize, making it seem more like aFriendsreunion than an art exhibit. The strident, pulsating music makes the conversations louder. The paintings reflect a real mix of artistic styles, although most are figurative paintings. It’s not clear why Vinnie recommended I come, but I suspect it won’t be good. The painting caliber is not that high; Vinnie is probably signaling that this is where my artwork now belongs.
I’ll walk around quickly and then go. It’s not like I’m in the mood to hang out here. What if William doesn’t show up?
And then I see him.
William is by the bar. His back is to me.
He came.
I walk over. He’s talking to a guy in a maroon smoking jacket.
As I near, I overhear William saying to the guy, “My girlfriend is an artist.”
I stop.We’re definitely still together.
“Really? What kind of art?” the guy asks.
“Abstract artist, but very colorful. Lot of emotional punch.”
“It’s all about the passion, man. Good stuff, right?” the guy says. “And it’s not just confined to the art, am I right?”
William sputters. “I don’t kiss and tell.”
“No, no, I can see it from your face. Good stuff,” the man says.
I back away. I don’t want to interrupt that conversation.
William turns, however, and sees me. He smiles, but it’s tentative.
He says goodbye to the guy and walks over to me.
“I’m sorry again about last night,” I say quickly.
“I’m sorry too. Maybe we’re getting carried away with all this investigation stuff.”
“I think I am,” I say. His eyes are warm and welcoming. I’m so relieved.
He puts out his arms. “A hug?” he asks.
“Yes.” I step into his arms. They enfold me, and I feel so comforted.
