DAMIEN'S POV
We arrived in Portland around five-thirty. Elara directed me to a small hotel near the gallery where she'd booked a room.
"There's a café next door," she said as I pulled into the parking lot. "The event starts at seven. I need to get ready and meet with the gallery owner first."
"What should I do?"
"Walk around. Explore. There's a bookstore down the street you might like." She grabbed her bag. "Meet me at the gallery at six forty-five?"
"I'll be there."
She hesitated before getting out. "Thank you for driving. For talking. It was—nice."
"Yeah. It was."
I watched her walk into the hotel, then sat in the car for a moment trying to process the last three hours. We'd talked about everything—my therapy, her gallery, the marriage, Victoria. It felt different than our previo
