Page 27 of Code Name: Typhon

“We’d represent you,” Pen suggested.

“You’re very kind.”

“I’m not in the slightest. I’d never offer gallery space to someone whose work I didn’t think we could sell.”

“I appreciate it very much, and if?—”

“Hang on. I have a couple of numbers for you. People I’ve met at various auctions. I’ll message them to you and reach out to them as well. I think I have four or five in London alone.”

“I don’t have many pieces to show.” Many? I didn’t have any. At least none I’d want anyone to see.

“Then, you have good reason to get your studio set up and start creating.”

“You know, you’re right. Thank you, Pen. I needed a swift kick in the arse today.”

“Then, I’m glad I called.”

We promised to talk soon before saying goodbye. Seconds later, my message app blew up with the names of galleries and their contacts.

I could ignore them, but why would I? I’d have something to do even if none of them wanted my work. I’d be productive rather than pathetic.

After walking a few more blocks while mentally setting up the empty room in my flat as a workspace, I turned around, so anxious to get started that I nearly ran.

“Hello, cousin,” I said, answering Niven’s call when I was halfway home.

“What are you doing? You sound out of breath.”

“Walking. How sad is that?” I laughed.

“Perhaps you should consider doing it more often.”

I rolled my eyes. “Is that why you called? To nag me?”

He laughed too. “Actually, I called to invite you to dinner. I’ve a late meeting in town, and Harper was unable to come with me, so I find myself both free and lonely.”

“You don’t know lonely, Niv. Take a peek at my life, and you’ll see what it’s really like.”

“Let’s see if we can put our heads together over dinner, then, yes?”

“Sounds lovely.”

“Shall we start with drinks at the Fumoir?” he asked.

I cringed. The place would forever remind me of my foolishness. “It’s so stodgy. How about the Market instead?”

“Perfect. See you there at?—”

“Seven?” Niven typically used military time, which I always had trouble figuring out, no matter how often he tried explaining it to me.

He chuckled. “Yes, pet. Seven, it is.”

Buoyed by both conversations, I was in a far better state of mind and still had several hours to get things moving before meeting Niv.

I hurried the rest of the way to my flat and spent the next few hours mapping out my studio, then looking online for everything I’d need to purchase. The first thing, though, was a bouquet to be delivered to Penelope. Little did she know how she’d turned my life around inside of fifteen minutes. I owed her my thanks.

When I next checked the time, I was shocked to see it was six. I quickly cleaned up and changed clothes—not that it mattered much for where we were going. Unlike the bar at Claridge’s, I didn’t feel the need to dress up.

I arrived at seven on the dot and sat at the only available table in the bar area, a four-top. I felt mildly guilty and figured we could always move if something smaller opened up. On the other hand, Niven might prefer sitting in the dining room.

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