Chapter 6

"If Harper really wants them that badly, I'll figure out a way to buy them back at auction."

Nathan said it so lightly, as if recovering my late mother's artwork was nothing more than a few easy words.

But seven years ago, when I'd spotted another one of my mother's surviving pieces at an auction and asked Nathan to bid on it for me—

He'd said, "One painting at home is enough. There's no need to buy more. Besides, your mother certainly wouldn't want you wasting money."

Back then, recovering my mother's work was wasting money.

Yet now, just to put Ada's mind at ease, he waved a hand and said he could buy it back.

I drew in a slow breath and pressed down the bitterness rising in my chest.

"Nathan, all I want is that painting."

"You'll have it tomorrow morning. Just stop talking for now, all right?"

He growled the words at me, impatient, then turned back to keep coaxing Ada in a soft voice.

I slipped out of the apartment without a word, went back to my hotel, and didn't sleep all night.

My phone buzzed. A message from Nathan.

Send me your address. I'll have the painting delivered.

I sent him the hotel location and went downstairs to wait.

Nathan's car pulled up in front of me, the window rolling down. In the passenger seat, unsurprisingly, sat Ada.

Ever since graduation, because Nathan and I worked in different fields, most of the time we couldn't find anything to talk about.

Little by little, the passenger seat had become Ada's alone, and I was left in the back, watching the two of them laugh and joke the whole way.

Ada climbed out and went to the trunk, took out the framed painting, and carried it toward me, chattering as she came. "Don't be mad, Harper. I already gave Nathan a good scolding, told him he'd better never touch your things again!"

"Here, take it. It's a little heavy—oh no."

In her high heels, Ada's ankle suddenly buckled, and she went down hard, the whole frame shattering across the ground, the canvas inside tearing.

"Ada!" I cried out her name, panic in my voice.

Nathan was at her side in an instant, bending to check her ankle.

I gathered the shards of the frame in my hands and demanded, my voice sharp, "Ada, you did that on purpose, didn't you?"

"Enough. Now, of all times, and you're still trying to dodge the blame? If you'd come over sooner and lent a hand, would Ada have fallen at all?"

Nathan lashed out at once, calling me childish.

Then his eyes caught the blood the glass had drawn from my hand, and something flickered in them, a moment of hesitation.

"Harper, I—"

"Ssss, it hurts... did I dislocate a bone?"

Ada whimpered.

Nathan scooped her up sideways in his arms at once. "I'll take you to the hospital and get it looked at."

Before he left, he glanced at me. "Have a little sense, Harper. It's just a painting. This one's gone, so I'll get you another."

"I'm taking my little bride-to-be to have her injury checked. Don't forget to show up at the wedding tomorrow. Looks like Ada won't be able to be your bridesmaid now."

With that, the car sped off and was gone.

I carried the painting back to the hotel with the greatest care, took out my phone, and asked around with the experts. Every answer came back the same: it couldn't be repaired.

Only when the sky went pale did I finally accept the truth.

I hadn't even been able to protect the last thing my mother left behind.

Thirty minutes to boarding, I rushed to make my flight.

Nathan's name lit up on my screen.

I hit answer, and he came at me the moment the line connected.

"Harper, today is our big day, and where are you? Where did you run off to? Is there no limit to your tantrums? No one is going to keep coaxing you forever."

Bitterness filled my throat, my voice gone hoarse. "That's right. No one stays by anyone forever. So, Nathan, let's break up."

The words were barely out when the boarding announcement rang through the terminal.

I hung up without a second's pause, then blocked and deleted every way of reaching Nathan and Ada.

Since not a single part of love or friendship had ever truly belonged to me, then I didn't want any of it.