I determined that I wouldn’t let a night I’d been looking forward to be ruined by him.
The paintings started selling within minutes of the opening of the doors. It was thrilling.
I rushed up to Bianca after every sale, making sure she knew that the night was an unequivocal success. She seemed more than a little in shock by it all.
I had my eye on one particular piece. It was a small watercolor of desert roses. It was so crisp, the colors so vibrant it almost came across like a photo at first glance.
I coveted it, and the first few interested buyers had to make a bid. I was hoping to outbid them myself, but within a few hours, I knew it was lost to me. It was just too far out of my price range.
It was around that time that I made a hasty trip to the restroom to touch up my makeup.
I vaguely made out a set of slender ankles that I recognized under one of the stalls when the door opened behind me. My eyes widened in outraged shock when I realized that Tristan had followed me into the women’s restroom. I’d made short work of his two attempts to talk to me throughout the evening, but this, this was out of line.
“Now you’re following me?” I asked him, willing my voice not to quaver.
It didn’t help matters that he looked amazing in a crisp tux that had to be custom made to fit those arms of his.
“If that’s the only way you’ll talk to me, then yes,” he told me, just as though he had the right.
“We have nothing to talk abo—“ I began.
“I still think about you every single day,” he ground out harshly. “Let’s talk about that.”
That had me shaking, head to toe, in pure affront, pure outrage. The nerve of him, to move on from me, to move so beyond me and then torment me with this. I knew what this was, it was guilt on his part, and I was livid as I realized this. “Oh, please. Take your guilt and get the f**k away from me, Tristan. I want nothing to do with it.”
“The guilt isn’t what I was talking about,” he said, his lying voice so convincing that I almost believed it. “It’s you I think about. Always you.”
I snorted. “Please! You stopped trying to call me years ago. I haven’t heard a word from you since right after rehab when you went on your repentance tour.”
He looked taken aback, but he recovered quickly enough, spouting more nonsense. “I didn’t trust myself, Danika. I needed my sobriety. I’m nothing without it, and you were a lovely trigger for me. That look in your eyes, after all that I’d done…The way you looked at me like I was scum and knowing that I deserved all of your antipathy. I knew that if you looked at me like that again, I’d hit rock bottom, and this time I wouldn’t come back from it.”
“I’m with someone, Tristan,” I told him, my tone hard with resolve.
“And if you weren’t? Would you be willing to talk to me—to spend time with me, if you weren’t with someone?”
I snapped. “No! Bad things happen when we get together, Tristan. You and I are nothing but trouble. Time hasn’t changed that. Please, just stay away from me.”
He moved to me, quick as a flash, his hands cupping my shoulders. “Danika, I’m so sorry. I’ll never stop missing you. You were my best friend. Can you ever forgive me for what I did?”
My trembling hands reached up and pulled his from me. “I forgave you a long time ago, Tristan,” I asserted, even as I took a step back, out of touching distance. “But I will never forget. Please keep your distance.” I practically ran out the door.
I made a point of seeking out Bianca soon after, since I knew she’d overheard our confrontation in the bathroom. I cared what she thought, and I didn’t want to come across like a royal bitch, so I felt I owed her an explanation.
“I’m sorry you had to hear that little exchange in the bathroom,” I told her solemnly.
She looked uncomfortable but her eyes were sympathetic. “I am so sorry about that.”
I waved that off. “It was hardly your fault. You were just using the restroom. But I saw your shoes under the stall, and I wanted to explain myself. I probably sounded like a cold bitch.”
She held her hand up. “You didn’t. I understand completely. Sometimes protecting your heart is the only way to keep your sanity.”
She’d hit that one on the head. I nodded. “Yes, exactly. I won’t get mixed up with him again, and I refuse to lead him on. When I was younger and stupid, I thought that he was the most wonderful and exciting thing in the world. I fell crazy, stupid, jump off a cliff in love with him. It was like being in love with a tornado. It took me years to pick up all of the pieces he’d left me in, but I did it, and I won’t go back. These days I want stability in my life. I need it.”
She nodded. I patted her on the shoulder, and walked away, satisfied that she understood.
I was literally forced to deal with Tristan again at the end of the evening, as he purchased two of Bianca’s paintings. Unbelievably, and infuriatingly, one of them was the small still-life I’d become obsessed with.
“You have great taste,” I told him as I entered his data into the system. I had other people to do this, but I always handled the really big ticket items myself. It made me nervous to let anyone else do it. My control issues were in full swing.