Page 74 of Breaking
Jenna stilled. That changed thing. She had triedand failedto get an invite to an event like this before. The exclusivity made it nearly impossible.
His gaze softened, watching her battle with herself. "I'm trying to make it up to you, Jenna. I know I messed up... a lot of things. Let me do this one thing right."
For a moment, she said nothing, just stared at the envelope in his hand. She could practically feel how badly he wanted this small victory, and a flicker of old warmth tugged at her defences.
"Fine," she said at last. "But I won't stay long. And don't expect me to play the adoring wife."
A flash of relief flickered in his eyes. "Understood. Thank you."
That evening, she stood in front of the mirror, hating the way her pulse quickened at the idea of going out with Troy. She chose a simple, elegant black dress, more subdued than the flamboyant piecesshe used to wear to impress him. Her hair was pinned up in a neat chignon, faint wisps framing her face. If he noticed the extra care, she told herself, it was only because she wouldn't want to embarrass herself in front of one of her favourite artists.
When Troy arrived to pick her up, Jenna wasnotprepared for the sight of him in a tailored navy suit. It wasannoyinghow good he looked, how the fine fabric stretched over broad shoulders she had once found comfort in. She always loved his shoulder. And hands. And many other parts of his body.
Dani had given her an obnoxiously knowing look earlier that day.
"So, let me get this straight. You're going to a fancy event with your very rich, very stupidly attractive almost-maybe not-ex? And you expect me not to ship this?"
Dylan had been less invested."This is the worst idea I've ever heard. But sure, let's pretend this isn't a terrible rom-com in the making."
Jenna had ignored them both.
Troy, oblivious to her spiralling thoughts, gave her a once-over that lasted just a little too long and lingered on her boobs."You look..." He caught himself and cleared his throat, adjusting his cufflinks. "Beautiful."
Jenna rolled her eyes. Men will always be men. "Let's go before I change my mind."
Chapter 58
The drive was nearly silent, save for the faint classical music he'd always loved to play in the car. But she had no intention of initiating conversation- if he was changing, if he truly wanted her back, let him do the heavy lifting.
The gallery was in a converted warehouse, bright lights illuminating the carefully spaced canvases. Within minutes, a representative greeted Troy warmly-"Mr. Bradshaw, so pleased you could join us"-and cast a curious glance at Jenna. She quickly stepped out from under Troy's arm, which had instinctively tried to settle around her shoulders.
He let it drop, frustration flickering over his features. "Elise Martens is here, if you'd like an introduction," he said after a moment, schooling his expression.
Jenna's eyebrows rose. "You know her personally?"
He shook his head. "Not exactly. But I made a point of sponsoring tonight's opening just so I could arrange a meeting for you. I know you've admired her for years."
Jenna swallowed. Old feelings of tenderness warred with her pride. Then, biting her lip, she nodded. "Okay."
Troy motioned to a staff member, who whisked them to a side area cordoned off by velvet ropes. "Ms. Martens, meet Jenna," Troy said softly, resting a polite hand on the small of Jenna's back. She didn't push it away. "She's been a fan of your work for a long time."
Elise Martens was a petite woman with short grey hair and sharp eyes. She offered Jenna a gracious smile. "I'm always happy to meet someone with a real appreciation for impressionism. Is there a piece you liked in particular?"
Jenna flushed, realizing she'd been glancing repeatedly at a canvas featuring an ethereal garden landscape awash in pale blues and pinks. "That one," she confessed, nodding at the painting. "Your brushstrokes, the way you capture light... it's beautiful."
Ms. Martens chuckled lightly. "I experimented with a new layering technique to get that airy effect."
They fell into an animated conversation about colour theory and technique. Jenna found herself laughing and forgetting, for a precious moment, all the tension outside this bubble of artistic wonder. Troy stood by silently, hands clasped in front of him as though he didn't want to break the spell.
When Elise was called away, she promised to send Jenna a signed pamphlet detailing her upcoming exhibitions. "I hope to see you at more shows," she said, giving Troy an approving nod. To Jenna-"And keep painting or sketching-art lives best when we share it."
After she left, Jenna turned to Troy, breathless with excitement. "I can't believe I just talked to Elise Martens," she murmured, eyes shining.
He smiled softly. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."
They spent the rest of the evening moving from painting to painting. The gallery had arranged a light buffet for their elite patrons. Troy trailed Jenna, watching her as she examined the paintings with bright eyes. She caught him distractedly staring at her lips when she turned to ask him his opinion on the painting she was admiring. For amoment, the old warmth enveloped them, the spark that had once been so strong igniting in her chest. Then she remembered everything else-his distance, Lila, the humiliating dinner. The spark dimmed. She stepped away, turning her gaze to the paintings lining the wall. "Thank you," she said, formal and quiet. "But I think I'm ready to go."
He drove her home, the art catalogue in her lap feeling like a precious treasure. At her door, she mumbled a quick "Goodnight" and closed it firmly, ignoring the disappointed slump of his shoulders. Even so, when she leaned against the doorframe on the inside, she felt a pang of conflict: he had finally done something thoughtful, yet it was overshadowed by years of heartbreak.
