Page 33 of Better Luck Next Time

Finn watched her with dark eyes, making her feel self-conscious, and she vaguely wondered if he was mad at her, but then he reached across the table, covering her hand with his own.

“So you let him see your work?” he asked, prodding her to continue.

Was he remembering what he’d seen in Dottie’s garage? Somehow she knew he was.

She nodded. “I had a small studio space I was renting with a few other artists, and he started coming by once a week or so to look at what I was working on and give me advice. After a couple of months, he suggested I work in his studio. My mixed media pieces are—were—fairly large, and I didn’t have much room in my existing space. I was thrilled. He rented part of a warehouse and the light was great. He seemed excited to have me there, and I basked in his attention. It was no surprise when he kissed me.” She paused. “I’ll admit that I had a crush on him, but I never suspected he was interested in me. Not like that. Plus, he was letting me use his studio space for free.”

Finn’s hand tightened over hers. “Did he take advantage of you, Adalia?”

She glanced up at him, surprised at the concern on his face. “I wasn’t some underage fool.”

His eyes darkened. “That doesn’t answer my question, does it?”

“No,” she said with a sigh. “It was consensual. We started sleeping together, and although I didn’t move out of my apartment, I spent most of my time at Alan’s. But then my pieces started disappearing. Alan said the studio was running out of room and he was having them moved to storage. Around that time, he started treating me differently, making me feel like I was stupid. That his opinion mattered more than mine did. I broke up with him, but he chased me, showering me with gifts and attention, and convinced me to take him back. He promised things would change. And they did for a bit, but then they got worse. He started insulting my work, telling me I was a hack and that I’d be nothing without him. He alienated me from my friends. I told my brother Lee what was going on, and he offered to help me, but only if I agreed to leave Alan. Around that time, Alan told me that he was having a show, but I’d hardly seen him work on any pieces, and the ones I had seen were honestly not worthy of a show at Michael Roe.”

She picked up her glass and finished it off, her head swimming, but everything else felt numb. It occurred to her that she’d purposely gotten this drunk so she’d find the courage to tell him the truth. So that he’d understand why she’d destroyed that piece and why she couldn’t, no matter how much she wanted to, create anything for his show. She’d done it so she wouldn’t fall to pieces when she explained how Alan had stolen her soul.

“What happened?” he asked so quietly she could hardly hear him.

“He wouldn’t let me watch him set up for the show, which was weird. He told me that he was being superstitious, that he was afraid I’d jinx it, but things weren’t adding up. I dropped by the gallery the night before the exhibit opened, and then I realized why he hadn’t wanted me to come—they were all my pieces. Every last one of them. He’d stolen my work and put his name on it.”

“Adalia,” he gasped.

She ignored him. “I was sofurious. Furious with him for gaslighting me and stealing my art all while tearing me down and making me question my talent, but I was even angrier with myself for letting him get away with it. He used me in every way imaginable, but most of all, he stole the deepest part of me and claimed it as his own. I lost it. I found a couple of gallons of paint in the back and started tossing it on the pieces—every last one of them. Someone at the gallery called the police, and I was arrested for felony vandalism. Alan had shown up by then. I guess someone had called him too, and he stood by and just let them put me in cuffs.”

Finn didn’t say a word, but Adalia could see the fury in his eyes.

“I called Georgie, and she and River arranged to have me released on bail. After I got out, I packed up as much of my stuff as I could fit into a few suitcases, then hopped on a flight to Asheville.” She grinned. “That was the night I threw a crystal at you and bruised your pretty face.”

He didn’t grin back like she’d expected him too. Instead, he looked like he was about to murder someone.

“And now you destroy your art before anyone else can steal the innermost part of you,” he said, holding her gaze.

Even drunk, she knew that he could see deep into her soul, much deeper than Alan had ever cared to look.

He cleared his throat. “He dared to send this text after he had you arrested? What happened to the charges?”

“Georgie convinced him to drop them. She made him realize it was in his best interest to make this go away.” She finished off her glass. “She can be very persuasive when she wants to be.”

He nodded slightly. “Trust me, I know.”

Adalia was sure he did.

“This isn’t the first time he’s tried to get in touch either. He’s been doing this for weeks.”

“Do you want to talk to him?”

Apparently, she wasn’t drunk enough to dull the pain, because tears stung her eyes. “No. I never want to hear from him again.”

Finn didn’t ask why she hadn’t blocked Alan’s number. Instead, he got out of his seat and slid in next to her. Without a word, he wrapped an arm around her back and snuggled her into his side, letting her cheek rest on his chest.

They sat like that for longer than Adalia would have expected, Finn holding her while letting her just be. Part of her wanted to tease him for not talking, but the rest of her was too afraid to ruin the moment. Somehow he had known exactly what she needed.

Andthatwas a dangerous thing indeed.

Chapter Twelve

Ithink it means you’re meant for each other, Lola had said. And damn if Finn hadn’t found himself thinking back to that teacup Dottie had taken such an interest in yesterday. Was this what she’d seen?

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