Julia got to the gallery where the gala was being held, anticipation and a bit of dread swirling in her. It was a thrill to be part of the evening, and she couldn’t wait to talk up her students to anyone who would listen. But the excitement was tempered by the very real possibility she’d have to see Erica.
At least she had advance warning. The program Sasha had given her for the event had a whole spread dedicated to the foundation’s board of directors. And because the universe had such a fondness for throwing her curve balls, Erica’s sleek and glossy head shot smiled at her from the page.
Julia took a deep breath and did a quick check of her reflection in the window before going in. She probably shouldn’t have splurged on a new dress, but if there was a chance she’d have to bump into the ex who’d left her for someone a decade younger, she deserved to look good. And the one she’d settled on—dark green with a shimmer in the fabric and a low back—made her feel both classy and sexy. The haircut and highlights hadn’t hurt, either.
Maybe Erica wouldn’t be there. Maybe she was traveling or one of her artists had a show or something that had to be more important than rubbing elbows with fellow art patrons.
Julia walked into the galley and scanned the crowd. It took about two seconds to confirm what she’d spent the last week fearing. Erica was there and looking utterly and absolutely stunning. Julia berated herself for allowing herself to hope or pretend otherwise. No way in hell would Erica miss the foundation’s biggest and glitziest fundraising event of the year.
And of course she wasn’t just there. Erica never simply went somewhere or attended some event. She held court.
That’s exactly what she was doing now. At least half a dozen people stood around her, smiling and laughing and hanging on her every word. Her body language oozed the kind of polished confidence Julia only dreamed of.
Interestingly, there was no sign of Natasha, the trainer. Not trainer, girlfriend. That’s what they were, after all, and why Erica had asked for a divorce.
The idea of calling her that didn’t give Julia the pang she expected. Sure, she had a certain fear and loathing over the prospect of seeing Erica, of having to talk to her. It was general discomfort, though. She no longer felt like the jilted wife. Funny how love could do that to a person.
Julia smiled at the idea of being in love, or more specifically, in love with Taylor. It had healed her heart in more ways than she could count. She had a pang, then, but it was wishing Taylor could be there with her. Yes, things like this were always better with a date, but more than that, Julia missed her.
She pulled her eyes from Erica to survey the room. They might have to cross paths at some point, but there was no way in hell she was going to seek her out. Fortunately, the gallery was a good size and the event already well attended.
Julia made her way to the bar for a glass of wine. Not that she needed it. Okay, she sort of needed it.
She got a Malbec and stepped off to the side, working through the mental list she had of people she needed to talk to before the evening ended. Jacques, the gallery owner, for sure. All the members of the board who weren’t her ex-wife. Oh, and that woman from the foundation, Claudia something.
“You look stunning tonight. May I get you a drink?”
Fuck. In all her processing, she’d completely—completely—missed Erica slide up beside her. Her defenses were down and she had nothing prepared to say in response. It didn’t help that Erica looked pretty stunning herself. The Prada suit fit her like a glove, and the white shirt she wore underneath straddled the line between feminine and masculine to a tee. The buttons left open at her throat revealed just the right amount of smooth, bronzed skin.
In spite of herself, Julia’s heart rate kicked up a notch. Did she have to be so fucking gorgeous? Julia swallowed the self-loathing that swelled in her throat for still being susceptible to Erica’s looks.
“Thanks, but I’ve already got one.” She gestured to her glass.
Erica’s smile, slow and easy and confident, sent Julia’s already scattered thoughts to the wind. “It looks like you could use a refill.”
She glanced down and, sure enough, her glass was nearly empty. Funny, she didn’t recall drinking it. Without waiting for a reply, Erica signaled to the bartender. “Grey Goose on the rocks and a Malbec.”
It was hard to know what bothered Julia more—Erica ordering for her or remembering what she drank. Deciding she had a lesser of two evils situation on her hands, she drained the remainder of her first glass and accepted the newly poured one. She most definitely needed it at this point.
“I meant it. You look amazing. Being back in the city seems to be suiting you.”
No, it was six months out of the city and away from a lying, cheating wife that had suited her. Knowing better to say so to the woman who ostensibly held the power to have her fired, she forced a smile. “It’s an incredible opportunity.”
“Everything I’ve heard so far from Sasha has been complimentary. Who knew you’d be so great with at-risk kids?”
Again, Julia swallowed the retort on the tip of her tongue. Along with the questions about how much checking up on her Erica had done. “They’re the impressive ones. I get to coach and encourage them.”
“Now you’re being modest. I’ve seen your photographs. You’ve got quite the talent.”
Despite her unease, Julia couldn’t help but bask a little in the glow of Erica’s praise. She might have been dishonest about a lot of things, but she didn’t lie about art. And she might not have integrity, but she sure as hell had taste. “Thank you.”
“Tell me about your work.”
Julia closed her eyes for a second and took stock of her options. She could try to make a graceful exit, but Erica would likely see through it. Or she could play along. There were worse things than humble bragging about her recent accomplishments to the woman who’d kicked her to the curb. And staying in Erica’s good graces would be good for the program. That mattered a lot more than some temporary discomfort.
Julia talked about her forays into photography, refusing to let herself be self-conscious about the portraits she did for money. Another glass of wine appeared and Julia didn’t push it away. She wouldn’t get drunk, but having a slight buzz was making this evening suck a little bit less.
“I think you should consider a show of your own. It would up your name recognition and give the program a boost.” Erica smiled. “Assuming, of course, you want to be taken seriously as an artist.”
The jab registered but took a back seat to the absurdity of what Erica was suggesting. “A show?”
“You could use the photos you submitted with your portfolio or some you’ve taken since. I’d be happy to host it. You’d probably make a nice windfall, too.”
In spite of wanting nothing to do with Erica, her brain raced ahead. The kind of money that could come in from even a modest show would give her the leverage to buy professional equipment, maybe even rent a space. Kenota of course, not New York. She’d never be able to afford New York rents. Not that she wanted to.
“I can see your wheels turning. You should say yes. Why wouldn’t you?”
Because it would mean spending time with Erica. It would mean owing Erica something, if she didn’t already. She really didn’t want to consider that possibility. “I need to think about it.”
Erica offered her another smile, the smile Julia fell in love with all those years ago. “I hope you’ll say yes. You deserve it. And it’s not like we’re enemies. At least I hope we aren’t.”
“We aren’t.” Julia sighed. She didn’t want enemies, even, or maybe especially, of the ex-wife variety.
“Good.”
With a truce sort of settled, Julia let herself relax. She asked about a few of their mutual friends she was sorry to have lost, a couple of the up-and-coming artists whose work she liked. Somewhere along the way, the familiarity, and perhaps the wine, softened her even further. Rather than resenting Erica’s questions about how she’d been, she answered them. She talked about her adventures in the world of dating and Taylor, her wingman turned girlfriend.
Just talking about Taylor gave Julia an ache of missing her. It had only been a few weeks, but she literally caught herself pining for the next time they’d be together. As amazing as this experience would be, it drove home for her just how much her life was in Kenota and with Taylor. She let out a wistful sigh and leaned forward on the bar. Erica did the same. “You’re an incredible woman, Julia Pierce. I’m sorry I ever lost sight of that.”
The apology was too late to make any difference in the outcome of their relationship. In truth, she didn’t even know if that was Erica’s intention. Maybe she was trying to make peace. Julia could get behind that. And the apology, more sincere than any of the platitudes she’d managed during the divorce itself, went a long way. “Thanks.”
Erica rested a hand on her back. It might not have been intimate, save the open back of Julia’s dress and the fact that Julia was leaning over slightly. Maybe it wasn’t still. Just her own discomfort. Swatting Erica away would draw attention to it, to her, to the fact she’d noticed in the first place.
She let her mind wander to what it would be like to have a show of her own. She’d been to enough of them as Erica’s wife that she knew how they went. Of course, she’d never been the one in the spotlight. Could she handle it? Would she like it? And perhaps most importantly, did she want to find out?
* * *
Giving herself an extra hour to account for traffic hadn’t been enough. Taylor fought her way into Manhattan and down to SoHo, pulling into the overpriced garage she’d scouted out almost an hour after the gala had started. She handed her keys to the attendant and hoofed it the half dozen blocks to the gallery, trying to will away the stress of her white-knuckled drive.
She handed over the ticket she’d bought online and walked into the gallery, scanning the crowd for Julia. She saw older couples chatting, two women looking cozy at the bar, a trio of men in tuxedos having a laugh about something, a younger guy with dreads in a burgundy suit who had to be the sculptor Julia had told her about. She did another sweep of the room before returning to the couple at the bar.
The woman in the dress was turned away, but the woman in the suit looked vaguely familiar. And she had her hand on the skin left exposed by the open back of the other woman’s dress. No, not the other woman. Her girlfriend. Julia.
Julia’s hair was different, shorter by a few inches and several shades lighter than the last time Taylor saw her. And she was dressed in an evening gown that Taylor had never seen before. Still, every line and curve of her body was one hundred percent Julia. It was jarring that she didn’t recognize her immediately.
Almost as jarring as seeing another woman’s hands on her. Erica’s hands. The realization of who Julia was with hit even harder.
Taylor froze in a mixture of rage and indecision. Part of her wanted to confront them, cause a scene and maybe a fight. The other part, the much bigger part, wanted to flee. Why did she come here? She shouldn’t ever have come.
Before she could move her feet, which felt cemented to the floor, Julia turned her way. “Taylor?”
Even with all the people, the space was small enough that she could hear the surprise in Julia’s voice. It sounded more like the horrified kind of disbelief than the delighted. Still, she couldn’t seem to move, not toward Julia and not far, far away from her. It only took a second for Julia to cross the room.
“What are you doing here?” There may have been delight in her voice then, but Taylor didn’t allow herself to hear it.
“It’s your big night, isn’t it? A little bird told me you might be sad not having a date.” It was the line she’d prepared on the long ride, when she’d imagined this night going very, very differently. Now, it left a bad taste in her mouth.
“I can’t believe you came.” Julia’s arms went around her and squeezed.
Taylor returned the embrace instinctively, her hand grazing the warm, soft skin of Julia’s back. The skin Erica Montrose had been touching only seconds before. She flinched and released Julia, but Julia didn’t seem to notice.
“I can’t even tell you how glad I am you’re here. Literally, there are no words.” Julia beamed.
The statement, along with Julia’s body language, didn’t jibe with the narrative forming in the brain. The dissonance left her unsettled and unsure what to do next. “I wanted to surprise you.”
“It’s the best surprise. You look amazing. There are so many people I want you to meet.” Julia took her hand.
The flitting commentary felt like the Julia she knew, the one she loved. But her brain had yet to stop screaming about the presence of Julia’s ex-wife, not just at the event, but in the very intimate position she’d stumbled upon when she arrived. “I—”
“I need to warn you that Erica is here.” Julia frowned. “She’s on the board of the foundation.”
“Did you find that out tonight?” Even as she asked the question, Taylor knew she didn’t want to know the answer.
Julia winced. “A few days ago. I saw the program for the event and she was in it.”
“I see.”
Julia took her other hand. “It’s a story. I should have told you before, but, well, I’ll explain it all later, I promise. Is that okay?”
She could see the pleading in Julia’s eyes, mixed with that delight over Taylor being there in the first place. Love, paired with really wanting to believe Julia’s version of the story, won out. “Of course. I’m here to support you.”
Julia visibly relaxed. Then she squeezed Taylor’s hand and pulled her in the direction of the guy in the burgundy suit. “Let’s start with Kwame.”
They made the rounds, Julia introducing her to literally dozens of people. She was about to suggest they step out for some air when she caught Erica striding toward them. She tightened her grip around Julia’s waist and cleared her throat.
Julia looked at her, then followed her gaze. “Fuck.”
The flash of jealousy returned. Was Julia’s discomfort from the inevitable awkwardness of the moment? Or was she hiding something?
“You must be Taylor.” Despite the smile and extended hand, Erica’s eyes traveled up and down in a cool assessment. “Julia’s told me about you.”
She wondered if the subtext of the statement, positioning herself as the one with intimate knowledge of Julia, was intentional. How could it not be? Taylor settled for a cool, “Likewise.”
Julia made conversation and Taylor tried not to count the seconds until she could escape. It was low-grade torture until Sasha came over. “I need to borrow you for a minute. There’s someone I want you to meet.”
Julia shot Taylor an apologetic look and allowed herself to be led away. Taylor stared at her drink and willed Erica not to talk to her further. She also willed herself not to jump to any conclusions about how cozy Julia and Erica were when she arrived. Or how cozy they’d become in the last few weeks.
“I’d never have guessed this was how I’d lure Julia back to New York.”
A shiver of dread slicked down her spine. “Excuse me?”
“When Julia applied for the fellowship, I was convinced it was a different Julia at first. But then I saw the images and I’d recognize Kenota anywhere.”
The question formed in Taylor’s mind and she squelched it down. She didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to know.
“If the photos had been lousy, it would have been different. But as I’m sure you know, she’s got quite the talent.”
The ice in her veins melted and hit the boiling point in about two seconds flat. The condescending tone, the fact that this woman had used her influence. That alone would have made her angry, but far worse was the stab of betrayal. Not from this woman she hardly knew, but from the one who held Taylor’s heart in the palm of her hand.
“I’m hoping I might convince her to come and work for me when this is all said and done.”
“You never know,” Taylor said stiffly.
She watched Erica’s gaze shift to where Julia stood chatting with other members of board. It was impossible to know if it was love in Erica’s eyes or simply lust, but it sure as hell wasn’t indifference. “Well, I’ve convinced her to let me put on a show of her work. I would really like to see her make a name for herself as an artist.”
Even as her blood boiled, Taylor could imagine it, imagine Julia getting the praise and recognition she and her work deserved. Maybe then she could finally believe, truly believe, in her talent.
“Besides, I know Julia pretty well and I’m guessing she’s more than ready to call the city home again.”
Taylor swallowed the rebuttal on the tip of her tongue, not because she didn’t want to pick a fight or because this woman’s opinion hardly mattered. No, at this moment, Taylor wasn’t sure her own opinion mattered. Or whether Erica maybe knew Julia better than she did after all.
She was spared trying to come up with a graceful exit when a man in a velvet tux walked up to them and started talking to Erica like Taylor wasn’t even there. Which was fine, since she didn’t want to be anyway. She looked over at Julia again, so at ease with these people. So happy. She’d been a fool to think her coming was the cause of that happiness.
Taylor made a beeline for the door. She needed some air and some space and some distance. Outside, on the sidewalk, she looked around, although for what she couldn’t say. There were no answers. No questions, either, really. Just an ache that took up all the space in her lungs and made it impossible to breathe.
Despite feeling like she couldn’t get enough oxygen, Taylor started to walk. She had no destination, or even a solid idea of where she was, but it didn’t matter.
Where did you go?
Taylor ignored the text and the one came after, asking if she was okay. When Julia texted her for the fourth time, Taylor unlocked her phone and dashed off one of her own. On my way home.
Julia’s reply was a string of question marks.
I figured it would make it easier for you to go home with Erica if I wasn’t lingering around like a puppy. It was more pathetic than scathing, but whatever.
Julia’s face and number appeared on her screen. She should let it go to voice mail. Nothing good could come out of talking right now.
Taylor swiped her finger across the screen. “What?”
“Where are you? What happened?”
The street noise probably gave away that she wasn’t really on her way home, but it didn’t matter. “I’m sorry I came and crashed your fancy evening. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have shown up.”
“What are you talking about? I’m thrilled you came. You know that, right?”
“I thought I knew a lot of things, but don’t worry, I’ve been set straight.”
“Taylor, you’re confusing me right now. And scaring me, for that matter. Where are you? I’m coming to you and we’re going to talk.”
“It’s your big night. You can’t leave. Think how disappointed Erica would be, especially after she went to all that trouble to get you the fellowship in the first place.”
Julia’s silence was telling if not satisfying.
“Seriously, enjoy your night. And your life.” Taylor ended the call and resumed walking.
Julia called again, but this time she did let it go to voice mail.