“Would you like me to circle the block?” my driver asks, likely aware of the tension emanating off me like great blooms of smoke.

“It’s fine. Park close. I have no idea how long this will take.”

I push the door open and step out of the car, buttoning my suit jacket as I approach the gallery. The door is locked until a security guard grants me entry with a press of a button. I nod to him in thanks as I walk deeper into the space, my shoes echoing on the concrete.

There’s a low hum of classical music playing, but beyond that, utter silence. No one is manning the white reception desk.

From a side room, Lainey appears, dressed in a pair of tailored black pants and a soft silk blouse the color of cream. Her long hair is down and pin straight, tucked behind one ear as she looks at a small ledger, ferociously flipping back and forth between pages. “I’m sorry, I don’t see an appointment on the books for—”

Then she looks up and sees it’s me, and her sentence stalls.

“Oh.”

Her cheeks flush with color. Pink and enchanting. Her worried eyes flit to the desk then back to me.

“Are you here to see Collette? She just went to lunch.”

Her gaze drifts to the front windows, as if she’s hoping her coworker will suddenly reappear.

“If I were here to see Collette, I would’ve been sure to come when she wasn’t at lunch.”

My answer makes her frown.

Clearly, I haven’t completely cooled from my discussion with my father.

“Are you here to peruse then?” She’s flustered as she closes her ledger and grips it tightly against her chest. “We don’t have anything new since the show on Friday, but I could pull from our other artists if you’d like.”

There’s a long beat of silence in which I simply look at her, absorbing the sheer existence of eyes the color of sage, and then the answer tumbles out of me.

“To be honest, Lainey, I’m not sure why I’m here.”

I sound utterly defeated, but she doesn’t let that stop the corner of her soft mouth from tipping up.

“Oh dear. If you’re lost, I’m sure you have the Google Maps app on your phone. Or I could draw you a simple map of Boston?” she teases.

I can’t help my grin from spreading.

I approach her gently, aware of her hummingbird heart and her tendency to flee. “You didn’t let me answer your question the other night. I do remember you.”

Her brows furrow. “Well to be fair, it took you a minute.”

“You’ve changed.”

I want to let my gaze trace along the lines of her body, but I don’t.

“I’m older,” she says with a confident lift of her chin.

“Still young compared to me.”

She smiles. “Yes, only now I don’t seem to mind.”

“And what else is different?”

She takes a step back and sweeps her hand around the room. “Oh, now I hide out in art galleries instead of libraries.”