Page 201 of The Marriage Clause

That's one of the reasons I keep him around.

Levi disappears into the hall closet and comes back with a stack of unopened mail balanced against his palm.

"Is this yours or are we forwarding all of Seattle's junk to Colston now?"

"Mine."

He drops it onto the counter in front of me.

Bills. Investor newsletters. Something from a wine club I never joined and never successfully unsubscribed from. A charity invitation. Two large cream envelopes with calligraphy on the front.

Then I see something else.

Mrs. Aria Kauffman.

The letters go sharp under my gaze. I reach for it before Levi can.

Heavy paper. It’s expensive which means it’s probably an invitation. Foreign postage in the corner.

My jaw tightens before I even turn it over and see the embossed mark on the back.

Amaury Gallery.

Cannes.

Fuck…

For a second the whole room narrows to the envelope in my hand. I don't need to open it to know what it is.

But I do anyway because I’m an asshole.

The card inside is an invitation to a gallery showing next week in Cannes. Gabriel's name printed beneath the exhibition line. A handwritten note at the bottom in dark ink.

Aria — there is a place for you here when you're ready.

Something twists low in my stomach.

It’s not anger, exactly. More like jealousy and there’s no point dressing it up.

After Christian gets the papers finalized, she'll be free to do whatever she wants. Go wherever she wants. Be with whoever she wants.

Go back to Cannes. Back to that coast. Back to the man who saw her work and knew her worth before I figured out how to say it without building a studio first.

And I'll have no right to say a damn word about it.

Levi is watching me now.

"What is it?"

I slide the invitation back into the envelope.

"Nothing."

"That's never a reassuring answer."

"She got invited to a gallery show."

Damien's brows lift. "That's good, isn't it?"