My mind struggles to process this information. “Which pieces?”
“MyMidnight Gardenseries.” Her eyes light up. “The large triptych and those four smaller companion pieces. Some of my favorite work. She has them safely installed already.”
A tiny spark of hope flickers in my chest for the first time since seeing the gallery in flames. “I didn’t know.”
“With everything that happened, I’m not surprised she hasn’t had a chance to update you.” Bianca leans forward, her expression earnest. “See? Not all is lost, Elliot. Your mother took something precious from you, but she couldn’t take everything. We’ll rebuild. All of us. The artists, the community—we’re with you.”
The simple solidarity in her words touches something buried deep inside me. For so long, I’ve carried the weight of my secret alone, convinced that my real self would drive people away. Instead, here sits Bianca, offering friendship without condition.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything.” She stands, opening her arms. “Come here.”
I step into her embrace. It’s warm, genuine—the kind of hug that communicates more than words ever could. I close my eyes, allowing myself to be comforted.
“We’ll get through this,” she murmurs. “One day at a time.”
32
JULIAN
Istep out of the elevator into my penthouse, briefcase in hand, to find Elliot and Bianca sitting at my kitchen island. They both look up at the sound of my arrival, conversation halting. Bianca’s eyes narrow as she assesses me. Elliot looks better than when I left him this morning; some color returned to his face.
“Julian,” Elliot says, surprise evident in his voice. “You’re back early.”
I set my briefcase on the counter and loosen my tie. “I had some pressing matters to attend to this morning, but I wanted to come and check on you.”
“I should go,” Bianca says, rising from her stool. She squeezes Elliot’s shoulder. “Think about what I said, okay? We’re all here for you.”
After brief goodbyes, the door closes behind her, leaving Elliot and me alone. He studies my face, clearly sensing something.
“What is it?” he asks.
I allow myself a slight smile. “The insurance company has agreed to a full payout. You’ll have the money by tomorrow afternoon.”
Elliot stares at me, lips parting in disbelief. “That’s—that’s impossible. These things take weeks, months sometimes.”
“Not when Frost Industries controls a significant portion of your insurer’s investment portfolio.” I shrug as if it’s nothing, though the meeting with Whitley had been anything but casual. “I’ve also contracted Romano Construction to begin work on the gallery tomorrow. Their crew will start clearing debris at seven.”
“Tomorrow?” Elliot stands; his hands braced against the counter. “Julian, that’s—I don’t understand how you?—”
“We own several buildings that Romano renovated last year. They were eager to accommodate.”
Elliot circles the island slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. When he reaches me, his hands grip my arms hard.
“Why are you doing this?” His voice breaks.
I reach up, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “Because she doesn’t get to win. Not over you.”
Tears fill his eyes as he leans forward, pressing his forehead against my chest. I feel his body shaking with emotion.
“Thank you,” he whispers against my shirt. “I don’t know how to—I can’t believe you made this happen so quickly.”
I wrap my arms around him, pulling him closer. His gratitude unsettles me—creates a warmth I’m not accustomed to feeling. For once, I allow myself to hold him.
I draw Elliot closer, our lips meeting in a kiss that begins gently but quickly deepens. His mouth tastes of coffee and something sweet. My hands drift to his waist, pulling him against me as the kiss becomes more urgent, more demanding. For a moment, I lose myself in the sensation, in the soft sounds he makes.
With reluctance, I break the kiss. “We should eat something. I bet you’ve barely had anything substantial today.”