Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Before we reach the entrance, a man strides over to us with purpose. The cop in me has me readying myself for an attack. As soon as I lock eyes with the man, I stifle a groan.
Chief Tanaka.
“Officer Thurman,” Tanaka greets, eyes narrowing as he glances at Nathan. “What brings you to such an event this evening?”
I straighten my spine. “I should ask you the same thing.”
Our silent stare-off continues. Nathan interrupts, offering his hand.
“Nathan Park. And you are?”
“Hiroshi Tanaka. Chief of police.”
Nathan grins at him and Tanaka turns on his charm. They begin a conversation where Nathan says how pleased he is to finally meet the new chief and how Tanaka has heard great things about Nathan’s family from the mayor. The two men easily chat, no animosity whatsoever.
If Nathan and Tanaka get along, it only makes me even more suspicious of Tanaka.
“My son is being featured tonight,” Nathan says with real pride. “He’s an incredibly talented artist.”
As he walks off, both men lowering their voices, I can’t help but wish Nathan would share some of his pride with Dempsey. I know Dempsey feels as if they see him as a screwup.
“He really is proud of him,” Jamie says, looping her arm with mine. “We both are. Dempsey’s always been a moody child. Maybe one day he’ll realize we only want the best for him.”
A moody child?
Maybe he wouldn’t be so moody if they didn’t think about him that way.
Bitterness at Jamie slithers its way in, but I squash it. She’s his mother and I’m…just the local cop he likes to make out with. Obviously, she knows him better than me. Feeling protective over him around his own mother feels like a major overstep.
No one is more protective than a mother.
As we enter the building, we follow people heading down the hallway to the auditorium. Waitstaff bustles around with trays of bubbly champagne and appetizers that look too pretty to eat. Jamie snags us each a champagne flute before we make our way into the auditorium.
Everywhere art is displayed with lights highlighting each piece. People are crowding around a display in the center of the room, pointing and admiring the art. I see Dempsey first and lose my breath.
He’s a good-looking man, but in a tuxedo, he’s positively dashing.
His dark hair is slicked back and he seems to be at total ease as he converses with people. I detach my arm from Jamie’s, taking several steps forward, needing to see him up close. Electric blue eyes find mine, searing into me and making me stumble to a stop.
I wait for the smile and the excited gleam in his stare.
All I get is panic.
Horror.
What?
I’m so stunned by his reaction, I visibly tremble. A man standing nearby gasps. Another woman points at me.
Do they all know?
How could they know I’m losing my damn mind over this man?
“It’s her,” someone says. “Wow.”
I jerk my head to follow where he’s pointing. The enormous print behind Dempsey is…me.
Me?
Unable to make sense of what I’m seeing, I push past several suited men until I can see the entire exhibit clearly. The highlighted piece is me in my navy-blue dress—the same godforsaken dress I’m wearing now. The expression on my face is sad. Lonely. Vulnerable.
Oh my God.
Each and every other display scattered around is also me.
Me. Me. Me. Me.
This is a nightmare, right?
Unfortunately, not.
Dempsey
Sloane is here.
Holy fuck.
This was not supposed to happen!
Everyone is staring at her as though she stepped right out of the realistic art print and into their presence. Living art. Some new-age artistic show.
They gasp and croon, all clearly impressed by the spectacle.
Un-fucking-believable.
I didn’t invite my parents or Sloane for this very reason. Somehow, they found out and showed up anyway. The three people who weren’t supposed to see are gawking at the art I so lovingly worked hard on.
Sloane’s gaze lands back on me. Her cheeks are flaming crimson and her eyes are watery. I feel like a total asshole. She’s embarrassed and it’s all my fault.
Before I can call out to her, Sloane turns on her heel and rushes out of the auditorium, pushing past people with surprising strength.
I need to go after her.
Right?
Mom’s eyes find me next. Her mouth is curved into a disappointed frown and anger flashes in her gaze. She’s pissed at me. As she should be. I’ve made a mockery of her best friend and our family. Rather than showcasing my talent, I’ve revealed my obsession with Sloane for the entire goddamn town to see.
Mom shakes her head at me and turns to follow Sloane’s path. I’m sure Dad is around here somewhere, the disappointment etched on his face too.
What have I done?
“Mr. Park,” a woman with sleek black hair purrs as she extends her hand. “I’m Mona Angel and I’m quite impressed with your style. I think your work would fit well in my Seattle gallery. I would love to discuss commissioning you.”