Page 116 of How to Get Even

Always trying to make others feel better.

Christ, he was in her head now.

I fell in love with you.

I don’t even know you.

Their conversation ran in circles around her head while the girls tried to make conversation to distract her, and shared worried glances over her head that they either didn’t think she saw, or didn’t care.

They’d get back to the apartment and…

She’d have to pack. She was being told to leave again, leave people she loved like a family, Chase, Tej, Maurice, Ali and Ye-Joon. Her heart ached with a loss she knew she’d barely begun to comprehend.

Where would she go? Who would want her? she thought miserably. She’d done the one thing she’d spent her entire life trying to avoid. She’d made a mistake and ruined everything. There was no smoothing of waters, no making things right. Not this time.

A tear rolled down her cheek and Paige shifted to put her arm around her shoulder and for the first time in what felt like forever, Bella let herself curl into someone’s side and let go as someone held her together.

As they drew up to the apartment she asked someone to pass her phone.

Bella dialled a number she should have called a long time ago.

‘Daddy,’ she said, when the line connected. ‘Can I come home?’ she asked, her voice breaking on the last word as her father saidyesand she cried even harder.

* * *

Chase had told the staff that Bella had had a family emergency, but he was pretty sure Maurice didn’t believe him. It didn’t matter, he decided, locking the gallery’s door behind him the following morning. He’d only come to…

What? Stare at her desk. Look for the signs that he’d missed? Because he’d been pretty damn blind to everything else. But there weren’t any signs of betrayal. There weren’t any clues to be found for Bella’s lies. Because either she was that good, or…

He shook his head, surprised how much he hated the sight of it. Not Bella’s desk, but the whole office. The feeling he’d had just before Christmas had come back. Resentment, regret, frustration.

He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be gallery director. He’d done it for Tej, he’d done it to get himself out of a hole. But his heart wasn’t in it. He’d known that the moment that Bella had made that first stroke of chalk beneath his hands.

He walked out into the frigid Saturday morning, hands thrust deep into his long coat, relishing the bite of the winter’s cold as it took chunks out of a hangover that barely touched the sides, despite the shocking volume of whisky he and Tej had put away yesterday.

He walked without a destination, ignoring the morning joggers and hum of the city that never slept, even on a weekend morning. And as much as he didn’t want it, his brain decided to roll through a greatest hits of his time with Bella. Either he was a sucker for punishment or his subconscious was trying to tell him something. Chase decided it was the latter right around the time he found himself at the door to the studio, his heart pounding, the hangover landing a double tap with anxiety.

He let himself in and braced for what he would find on the walls. The chaotic crazy mess that he and Bella had put on the walls four days ago. His heart thumped painfully in his chest. But when he turned into the studio, the paper that had been up on them when they’d visited was gone. The only sign that they’d been there was the table of art supplies by the far wall.

Loss hit him, hard and fast, rocking him on his feet. He’d never see what they did together. He’d never see what they’d created. The wind was knocked from his lungs, and for one viscerally horrifying moment he thought he might actually cry. Loss. Absence. The knowledge that he’d never see what they made. What he’d painted. Because she’d got him painting.

And it had changed. The way he felt about it now. Ever since she’d brought him here, he’d been more curious than fearful and he’d not wanted to admit it. He’d fought it because fear still had a hold, but the curiosity was strong and getting stronger.

Giving up the fight, he stared at the blank walls, trying to recreate what they’d done, what materials they’d used. But he’d not even touched them. She had.Theyhad.

You don’t talk about your feelings.

Chase huffed out a bitter laugh. Christ, in comparison to his father he spat an entire encyclopaedia out about his feelings, didn’t he? It was one of the things he remembered most after his mother had died. How quiet the house had been. How desperate he’d been to escape. To go to London – just like his mother had predicted.

Old grief returned with new wounds and he wondered if Bella was right. He had left Annalise and Dan to figure things out. He’d wanted none of it, but had he just been running away? And Astrid? Shit. That’d been wrong. He’d been so angry with Annalise and so ashamed, but he hadn’t thought about the impact it’d had on her. On what she’d been left to think.

And Bella…

How had all this become so fucked up?

After what felt like a lifetime, he picked up his phone and dialled a number he wasn’t sure would accept his call.

‘What?’ demanded the diamond-cut British accent.

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