Page 15 of One Wrong Move

She shakes her head. “Not at all. This might be our twentieth, but it’s not a true abstract at any rate because… see those black lines along there? They’re interspersed and represent walls. It’s a recurring theme in his pieces. And you have the chance to buy it.”

“Mm-hmm.” I raise an eyebrow at her. Tonight, she’s been happier than I’ve seen her in a long time, listening to everything Susan Ritchie said during the tour with rapt fascination. They ended up discussing the merits of Soren’s art until I think they both forgot I was in the room.

It’s wonderful to see.

Selfishly, I’m glad I could give her this evening. That despite the Dean-shaped box hidden in the back of a metaphorical closet, she said yes. I want to give her more experiences like this.

“You know what,” she says, her tone teasing. “I don’t think you deserve to own this painting. Not if you won’t admire it the way it should be. This should be hung on its own wall and given ample space to be admired. There should be a chair in front of it just to sit on and observe it.”

“I would love to see how you live, if that’s your decorating ethos.”

“Oh, I don’t have any art like this,” Harper says. “But if I did, that’s what I’d do.”

I run a hand along my jaw. “And you said this was for sale?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re recommending I purchase it.”

She looks up at me, and her eyes are trepidatious. “Well, I don’t know if I would… it’s a big thing, to recommend for you to buy it.”

“You’ve done it plenty of times before.”

“No, I didn’t know you actually acted on my words before,” she says. “That was different. I was just expressing my opinions.”

“So express it again about this. Don’t think about me or my wallet. If you were building an art collection, would this piece be something you include?”

Her eyes light up, and she waits only a second before answering. “Yes. It would be.”

“Great. I’ll buy it.”

“Jesus, Nate, you can’t… Oh my God. Will you really?”

“Of course. I have it on great authority that this is a wise investment.”

“That’s not what I said,” she retorts.

I turn, intending to find Susan and tell her to reserve the painting when Harper’s hand grips the sleeve of my suit jacket. “Nate. It’s terribly expensive.”

“I know.”

“No, it’s like… this is the kind of painting galleries buy. Not private individuals.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Let’s pretend I’m starting a gallery, then.”

Harper lets out a nervous laugh. “Okay. Okay, yeah. It’s just… God, you’re rich.”

That makes me chuckle. “Hate to break it to you, but yes, I am. Thought you knew that already, though.”

“I knew. But I haven’t actually, like, seen it before.” She shrugs and looks away from my gaze. “The sports car, the gallery invite… the art purchasing. It’s big leagues stuff.”

Her tone of voice makes me want to ask what she thinks of it. I’m not sure if it’s a good thing.

“I suppose it is,” I say instead.

Dean’s well-off, but she’s never seemed interested in glitzy or glamorous things. I know they’ve done some traveling, and I suspect he spoiled her when they were together. But I’ve also always had this feeling that she didn’t appreciate being indulged, at least not the way he did it.

Should’ve taken her to art galleries.

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