I don't tell Maribel about the text.
Not that night. Not the next morning when she's making coffee and talking excitedly about the gallery opening. Not when she helps me get ready, zipping up the green dress and declaring me gorgeous.
I keep Lucien's message like a secret. Something precious and fragile that might shatter if I say it out loud.
"You look nervous," Maribel says as we're leaving. "It's just an art gallery. No one's going to bite."
"I know. I'm fine."
But I'm not fine. I'm terrified and excited and guilty all at once. Tonight I'll see Lucien again. Tonight I'll find out if what I felt was real.
Tonight everything could change. Again.
We arrive at the gallery twenty minutes early. Maribel's friend greets us with champagne and air kisses. The space is beautiful. White wal
