Page 90 of Break Me Not

I tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

“And what if she asks you to break up with me? What if she says she'll no longer talk to you until you do?”

“Do you really think my daughter would ask something like that?”

Her words pulled at my heart. Because no, Claire would never. She wasn’t selfish or reactive. Regardless of how many fights we’d had over the years, she was always the more mature one. Always the more reasonable one.

Somehow, that made me even more scared. Because we had taken her trust for granted and we’d kept things from her.

Would she think love was a good enough reason for why we had done this? For what we had done to her?

“I know,” Liz said and cupped my face. “I can see the guilt on your face. I feel it too. But the longer we keep this from her, the harder it will be, and the more hurt she will be.”

I nodded.

“Just remember. Whatever happens, I’m here. And whatever you choose… I will understand.”

Her face looked like what my heart felt when I said those words.

“Even if I leave you because of it?”

“Yes. Even then.”

Liz

A day like today shouldn’t have been so perfect.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” I said, slipping my hand into my buyer’s.

She gave me a smile. When she first walked into my gallery with an impeccably tailored suit and black hair with a strip that looked dyed white at first but now seemed natural to me, I didn't think this would happen.

We got a lot of walk-ins here just to have a look. Even if they were usually people with money, less than ten percent of my sales came from them, but she was different.

She was actually exactly who I’d been looking for. And it seemed serendipitous that she would stumble upon this place.

“The pleasure is all mine,” she replied and handed me her card. “I'll send someone to come pick them up later.”

She nodded to Jen, and we both watched as she left and got into a sleek-looking vehicle.

I slipped my assistant the small note I’d written with the amount we’d agreed upon and a scribble, letting her know we were selling the royal collection, and she let out a small gasp.

“Wait, I thought you’d never sell those?” Jen asked, her voice raising a few octaves.

“I wanted to hold onto them until I had the right buyer,” I said as I watched the car pull away. “I think she's part of the royal family.”

When Jen still hesitated, I turned to look at her.

“I remember you really liked the one of the family cottage… Are you sure?”

I gave her a nod. “I’m sure. I have a feeling this buyer is the right one. It's not every day one of those walks into the shop now, is it?”

“But how do you…?”

“Call it a gut feeling.” I started walking back to my office. “First of all, she has the same name as the person on the back of the painting. And if you look closely, on every painting there is always someone with a strip of white hair. I'm thinking it's a birth defect that runs in the family.”

Jen followed me quietly. I leaned over my desk and grabbed my bag. My heart was pounding in my chest, and anxiety was starting to crawl up my spine.

I had had a winning day so far, but now was the time for the most important part of it.