I didn’t know if I should’ve so I figured it was time to pull back on the lies. “No, I haven’t,” I said, shaking my head. “Sorry.”

“Oh, don’t apologize,” she said. “It’s up-and-coming. Anyway, we’re having a few shows soon, and we’re renting out a warehouse in the West Loop. I’ve been trying to think of some ways to decorate the space, and when you mentioned that you did portraits, I thought that might be a great idea—to have you do some portraits of the models in the clothing that they’re going to be wearing on the night of the show! How amazing would that be?”

“Um, yes,” I said, nodding. “That would be something else.”

“Can I see some of your work?”

I hesitated.

She leaned forward. “Come on, just a couple.”

It had been a while since anyone had been interested in my paintings, and I smiled a little before pulling out my phone. I opened my photo album and scrolled through to find a few shots of some of my work.

“You did these?” she asked, her eyes widening. “They’re beautiful!” She tilted her head to one side. “Hey, I know this is totally random, but I’m having a little dinner party at my apartment on Saturday night. You should come! You could learn more about the line, see if it you’re interested, no strings attached.”

I smiled and shook my head slightly. “Oh, that’s nice of you, but I couldn’t…”

“Why not?” she asked. “I live right there.” She pointed down the block, and I turned and squinted as if I didn’t know where to look. “The brown brick one with the orange porch swing,” she said. “Apartment 2. Eight o’clock. If you’re not busy, I’d love to have you. You could meet the designer, the store owner, and take a look at some of the designs.”

I didn’t say anything.

She smiled. “I know. My sister says I can be a little bit impulsive about things. But when I meet someone who gives me good vibes, I tend to just go with it. And those paintings are truly impressive. Seriously, tell me you’ll at least think about it.”

There was no way in hell.

But I smiled and nodded. “Sure, I’ll think about it.”

“Here, take my number,” she said. “I left my phone upstairs, but you can text me yours. And again, no strings. If you want to come, just show up on Saturday at…?”

“Eight o’clock,” I said with a small smile. “I’ll definitely think about it.”

With shaking hands, I typed her number into my cell phone and saved it as Emma. Then I stared at my phone for a few moments and tapped around, just long enough to make her think I’d texted her my phone number.