Page 43 of My Broken Mate
“Oh, I expected it, don’t worry,” Eve says, in his usual aloof manner. He always has that slightly dreamy expression on his face, as if he is thinking of something far away.
“Am I someone you expect to come late?” I ask. I would hate that. It’s impolite and very disrespectful to be late somewhere, and I would not like anyone to consider me a person who makes others wait for me.
“No, not necessarily. But you told me in advance that you have a couple of business meetings, and weren’t sure if you would make it in time.” He looks at me. “Shall we go? I know you probably didn’t eat yet, but we can do that later.”
“Wait, is the gallery still open? I thought we wouldn’t make it.”
“Well, I can come and go as I like,” he explains.
“Right, you are their star artist.”
“I wouldn’t call it that way,” he admits. “I am just up and coming.”
“Well, judging by the audience and the art scene, you are certainly more than that,” I say. “Let’s go. I want to see your work.”
Now it makes sense why he chose this coffee shop. It’s unlike those he usually frequents, too crowded and loud, and he hates chains of any kind, but it’s also very close to the gallery. Being booked by a gallery of this size is truly a milestone in his career, and despite his calm attitude, I know he is aware of it.
“How come you aren’t nervous?” I ask him while we make our way through the night.
“You are never nervous either,” he points out.
“True, but I am used to having meetings,” I say. “And I’m usually the one others want something from. I am not used to being judged.”
Eve hums something before he shrugs. “You are not wrong, but I don’t care. I paint because I like painting. I don’t care for anyone’s opinion on my art. I never read reviews. I only know what the audience thinks when my siblings tell me. It’s just—” he pauses. “When I draw, my whole mind is in it. I don’t plan or think about how it will be perceived.”
“I am not sure if I will ever understand how your brain works,” I admit. “But I am oddly fascinated.” I have never met anyone so aloof as Eve. He doesn’t even seem to hear any negativity or hate towards his work, nor does he mind the praise. When it’s about his art, he is in his own world.
“Being my brother’s beta is the true hassle,” he says.
“I feel that. I supported Sean, too, at the beginning, but I am not cut out for the work either. I am glad he has his own beta now.”
“I hope Joel will find someone, too,” he says. “I don’t mind helping him, because he deserves it, but I am seriously bad at it. My brain is not made for socializing with so many people and sitting through meetings. I feel like Kata would be more suited for that job.”
“Why don’t you offer it to her then?”
“She is too young,” he admits. “She went through a lot, and Joel and I want her to study at college without thinking about work. For once, she should enjoy her time.”
“It’s the same for Sean and me with Remy,” I say.
“Oh, really? I didn’t know!” He looks around and lowers his voice. “I thought it was because of his health…” his voice trails off, but I know what he is talking about. Eve is one of the very few who know about Remy’s condition, mainly because he was the one able to provide us with experts who are not from ourpack. Sean and I wanted to make sure that no one would blab about Remy. He doesn’t deserve to have the whole pack gossip about him and harass him. It shouldn’t be an embarrassment for him, and Eve is one of those people who hate any gossip and aren’t interested in anything that doesn’t concern them.
He also has an interesting backstory himself, and I know he wouldn’t tell anyone about Remy, not even his own family.
“He is talented,” I say. “Very smart. And he is much better at socializing than I am. Despite his condition, I think Sean wants him on his team in one way or another. But we want him to have time to heal and study, and enjoy his life.”
“And does your plan work?” Eve asks.
I stare at him. “How did you guess that it didn’t?”
“A feeling,” he says promptly.
Everyone tends to underestimate him because of his constant daydreaming and his quietness, but he is very attentive. Maybe that’s the gaze of an artist. He sees things others don’t. “I don’t think my brother is happy,” I say.
“Remy?”
“Both of them, actually, but Remy in particular.”
Eve nods thoughtfully. “Yes,” he says quietly. “You were living with a monster, and no one knows just how much of a monster he truly was.”
