“Career?” He laughs, rolling his eyes. “You make me sound old. I’ve only been at this for a few years.”
“You’ve only been recognized for a few years,” she corrects. “I read about how you resorted to modeling because of a lack of confidence in your work. It really resonated with me.”
“You definitely shouldn’t have a lack of confidence,” Mason says, gazing at the pots I’m now holding. “Those are awesome.”
“Thank you.” Her cheeks flame again at Mason’s compliment. If I didn’t know he’s happily married in a poly relationship with Natalie and his two brothers, I’d be filled with jealousy right now. But I know Cora’s swooning because of his creative talent, not his broad shoulders or ridiculous biceps.
“In fact, I’m going to tell Natalie to get here early. She’s been looking for something to sit on a new console table she shipped in from Vietnam. It’s lacquered and rich, and that pot could be perfect. Plus, she’s agreed to be the official photographer for tonight.”
“Natalie?” Cora asks.
“My wife,” Mason says. With pride, he pulls out his phone, and the screen lights up with a picture of a pretty woman surrounded by three men – Mason and his triplet brothers – and two small boys. “We have twins.”
“They’re gorgeous,” Cora says. “The kids, I mean.” Another blush spreads across her cheeks, and she glances at me with pleading eyes that say Rescue me from putting my foot in it anymore. She’s too adorable.
“Let me help you get set up,” I say, and she nods gratefully.
Later, when we’ve returned home to change into our professional clothes – for me, black dress pants and a white button-down, and for Cora, a slinky yellow silk dress – we return just before the doors open. My brothers are already there, waiting for us by the door.
“This place looks amazing,” Mark says, sipping a glass of fizz.
Cora beams, bouncing on the balls of her feet, so buzzed at seeing her work professionally displayed that she’s struggling to stand still.
People begin to drift in, taking the gallery brochure and something boozy from the table, and I smile at River and Tobias, who are wandering around the room, trying to look less like men who usually have grass stains on their pants and more like those who understand art and culture. I don’t mean to sound snooty. It’s just this kind of thing wouldn’t ordinarily be their scene.
“Cora!” a woman’s voice calls from the doorway. It’s Maggie, flanked by two women who look familiar and another I don’t think I’ve seen before.
“Hey!” Cora dashes forward, her jitteriness obvious in the way her hands flutter before she embraces Maggie like she’s a life buoy and Cora’s drowning in the roughest of seas.
“Hey yourself,” Maggie says, disentangling herself from Cora’s arms. “You look absolutely stunning.”
“Thank you.” Cora greets each of her friends with hugs, but I notice that there is a little frostiness with the last girl. I make a vow to ask Cora about it later. Eventually, she drags Maggie by the hand in my direction.
“Alden, you remember Maggie. And this is Tori and Jasmine, and Cathy.”
Cathy’s the girl whose smile doesn’t quite meet her eyes, but she’s the first to step forward to plant kisses on my cheek. As I politely held out my hand, the exchange was a little awkward.
“So you’re the artist stepbrother,” she drawls. “Which are yours?”
“The metalwork sculpture,” I say.
“Really.” Cathy glances around. “Metalwork is a little harsh for me, but those paintings…” She trails off, cutting her eyes back to me to assess my reaction. Seriously, if she thinks I’m so fragile that her attempt at a biting remark is going to wound my ego, she has another thing coming. I wonder why the hell Cora is friends with someone like that, but then I remember that I counted Kyle as my buddy until I found out what he did.
“Your ceramics look stunning,” Maggie says. “I’m going to grab a brochure and have a proper look around.”
“I’ll come,” Tori says.
“Me too.” Jasmine darts behind them and Cathy is left for a moment. I see the way her spine stiffens, and it gives me the creeps.
“Cora, can I get your thoughts on something?” I say, gently taking her by the arm and leading her away until we’re standing in front of Mason’s biggest painting.
“What is it?”
“Your friend is horrible,” I whisper.
“Cathy?” she laughs at my screwed-up expression. “She really is a very difficult character, but I’ve known her for years, and it’s hard work to cut her out. You have no idea how desperately that girl can cling on. I swear, I’d have to machete her fingers from her palms to get rid of her.”
“Nice visual,” I say.
“I never let her get to me. You should have seen what she was like when Maggie got pregnant by her ex-boyfriend. I thought there was going to be a murder.”