How to Ruin a Wedding(36)

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and when I glance down and see Joshua’s name, my stomach tightens.

“Hey, give me one sec?” I tell Valerie, already stepping away. “It’s a work thing.”

She shrugs and drifts toward a bright red canvas.

I answer the call, moving into a quieter corner near curvy, silhouette-shaped sculptures. “Hey, Joshua.”

“Lucy,” he says, upbeat but direct. “Just checking in. I wanted an update on how things are going on your end. You still on track for your buy?”

I force a smile he can’t see. “Yes, thanks for asking. Sure am.”

He hums, clearly not fully reassured. “That’s good to hear. The other potential buyer reached out again this morning. He’s ready to sign, and frankly, I can’t hold him off much longer unless I know you’re a sure thing.”

I press a hand to my forehead. “I’m in, Joshua. I want this. I just need a little more time to get the rest of the funds together. But I’ve got a plan. I’ll meet your deadline.”

There’s a beat of silence on his end. “All right. I just need to know where you stand, Lucy. I want this to be you. I know how bad you want it.”

“I’m in. I promise,” I say, too quickly.

“Okay,” he says. “Let me know if anything changes.”

The call ends, and I stand there for a second, heart hammering. I tuck my phone away, adjust my expression, and head back out into the gallery like this didn’t send every wing of anxiety fluttering in my stomach.

If anything, this needs to get me focused even harder on the task at hand.

When I spot Valerie walking, I match her pace, watching her weave through the building. Sometimes she stops to admire a piece; other times, she barely spares a glance. As someone with the artistic capabilities of a newborn, everything looks confusingly beautiful. Some pieces are so abstract I can’t even place what they are, and yet, my brain still simply thinks pretty.

“So,” I say, “it’s been half an hour, and you haven’t said a single bad thing about this place. Is it special?”

“Well, it was the first gallery ever built in Charleston.”

I roll my eyes. “I meant to you.”

She tosses her hair. “Not really.”

Her tone sounds normal, but her shoulders stiffen ever so slightly. She tilts her head away, and the act reminds me so much of Taina that a sense of homesickness strikes me square in the chest. I maneuver myself in front of her.

“Oh, it is special to you!”

“I guess.”

“You have to spill now.” I loop my arm through hers. So she feels less pressure, I keep my gaze on a portrait of a woman facing a lakeside cottage, painted with such detailed strokes it looks like a photograph. “Share it with the class.”

“Is the class a private course or a public one?”

“It’s whatever your heart desires.” I hold up a pinkie.

She takes it in hers, and the ever-present guilt of this job sinks its claws into my stomach. Not only will I break every promise I make to her, but I’ll be sharing everything with Anders as soon as I can.

“My first love took me here on our first date,” she says, and I frown. I’m sure John is last on the list of Valerie’s loves. “It was one of my favorite dates ever. I thought he was the first person to see me as more than some bratty little airhead—and I can be that—but I’m more. And Nick always had a way of bringing that out in me.”

As soon as I feel my eyes widen, I blink until they’re back to normal. I keep my voice smooth. “You want to get married here? Where your first love took you?”

“You think that’s crazy?”

Even if I’m trying to impress her, Valerie seems to value honesty—and a bit of snark—so I don’t mince words. “I don’t think it’s exactly sane.”

She snorts. “Maybe that’s why I think it’s a good idea. I’m drawn to the crazy. And this is where I discovered true love exists.”

“Don’t you think getting married here will only remind you of your ex?”

She purses her lips. “Is that a bad thing?”

For Valerie to have such a strong impression of this place, it must mean a great deal, but it sounds like it’s less about the place and more about the person who brought her here. Is this Nick someone she still harbors feelings for?

Has to be, for her to even consider this venue. I mean, I still can’t enter the coffee shop my ex and I used to frequent—going so far as to walk two extra blocks to avoid it.

Those who are alive can haunt places just as much as those who are gone.

And it doesn’t seem like Valerie minds this particular ghost.

“I’m not judging you, to be clear. But I don’t understand. I’d like to.”

She sighs. “This is getting too heavy. We’re supposed to be having fun.”

The change in her is quick. I know I won’t get anything more out of her now, and if I push, it’ll only make it harder later. I’ll gather this and tuck it into a mental file.

I wrap my arm around her. “You’re so right. And I bet the café upstairs has enough champagne that anything from this moment on is guaranteed to be fun.”