The four of us moved through the room, recognizing some familiar scenery and faces along the way. A goateed guy in his late thirties—“That’s Aaron, the pretentious one of the group. He’s always name-dropping all the artists he knows,” Levi whispered—was monopolizing Ralph in a steady stream of chatter. The black-and-white photographs Aaron had taken of Oar’s Rest were stark in their simplicity, black waves crashing against rock. With some masterful photo editing, he’d created an underwater kingdom below. Tentacled creatures and hideous mermaids swam between the bones of sailors who couldn’t let go of their treasure hoard.

“Beautiful,” I whispered to Levi. “But eerie.” I wouldn’t want to look at them for too long.

Next to the photographs was an array of canvases propped up on easels. At first glance, they looked like feverish charcoal scribbles. Almost none of the white canvas was visible. Elodie stood behind them. Her eyes were on me, hard. I didn’t want to stop in front of her work; I didn’t even want to look at it. Her work was always evocative, if disquieting. It was like staring into the sun. Blinding and uncomfortable.

“The metalwork looks really nice,” I tried to say, pulling Levi away, but Elodie called out crisply, “Levi!”

Fear pushed against me. Please, please, if she hasn’t told him about me yet, don’t let her do it now.

“Hey, Elodie.” Levi changed course, and we came face-to-face with her paintings.

Or rather, we came face-to-face with me. Lucy couldn’t hold back her shock, hand flying to her mouth. Of the eight canvases in front of us, four were of me. The charcoal looked frenzied, angry. My face was brought to life in an abstract of angry geometry, tumbling strokes of unrestrained, uncontrolled passion streaking across a white canvas. Was that how she felt?

My breath became stilted the longer I looked at myself. If the drawings had been of anyone else, I might have said they were incredible. The first charcoal sketch was of me at Busy’s, hand wrapped around a cup. The smile was in my eyes, and the care in each tendril of hair, each freckle on my nose … it wasn’t just art. It was deeply personal. The second and the third were of me in the sand. One was an aerial shot where I appeared to be asleep, the other was a day I remembered I’d been building a sandcastle with Levi. She hadn’t included him in the scene.