For 100 Days(94)

I don’t think he can possibly understand how many ways that statement is true. I’m not ready to show him my new work. I’m not ready for his criticism or his praise. And I’m not ready for the way I feel toward him . . . the way he makes me want so many things I can’t possibly have.

Not with him, not with anyone.

“If we don’t have trust, Avery, we don’t have anything. Haven’t we covered that?”

He reaches for me, taking hold of the pearls that dangle between my breasts. He winds them around his fist, the tension drawing me inexorably toward him. I can no more fight his pull now than I could any other time we’ve been together. I take a step, then another. Until his pearl-wrapped fist is the only thing between us.

His eyes search mine. I can see the demand in those deep blue depths, the challenge. This is no longer about my painting. We both know it. And I can see from the rigid determination in Nick’s handsome, hard face that he will not be denied. Not this time.

“I want to see every part of you, Avery. That’s the only way this is going to work between us. No fear. No hiding. No barriers, remember?”

“Nick, I . . .” I shake my head miserably. My throat is dry, clogged with all of the words I cannot say. Things he should know about me and my past—things that are far more shameful than any of the half-truths I’ve fed him about my life since I’ve come to New York. “Please, don’t,” I murmur thickly. “I just . . . I can’t.”

I watch something dim, then darken, in his piercing gaze. The mouth that has kissed me so tenderly, worshipped me so pleasurably today and every other time we’ve been together now hardens in a stern line.

“Nick, I know you don’t understand why—”

“Then tell me.” Clipped words. A harsh command that hits me like a slap. “Make me understand what you’re afraid of. Is it me? Have I hurt you, Avery? Have I frightened you?”

“No. Never.” It kills me that he would think that. It breaks my heart to see him trying to make sense of my withdrawal. “You’ve never done anything wrong, Nick.”

“Then why are you pulling back from me?” His voice sharpens. “What are you hiding from? Who are you hiding from? Damn it, Avery, what won’t you say?”

I shake my head. My voice has left me entirely now.

He doesn’t say anything either. His expression unreadable, shuttered to me, he lets go of the pearls and lets the strand drop. It sways against my bare torso, the heat from his hand swiftly fleeing the gems.

He steps back, and his distance creates an even bigger chill in me. I shiver from the coldness I feel opening up between us, and from the impenetrable ice of his gaze.

As we stand there, locked in our miserable impasse, the apartment intercom buzzes with a call from the lobby. The sound punctuates the tension between us, making our unbearable distance widen with each passing second. For a long moment, neither one of us moves.

Nick is the first to break the awful silence. “Go find out what Manny wants.”

He strides away, back into the bedroom, leaving me alone and naked, wracked with an uncontrollable shudder. With emotion dammed up in my throat, I pad over to the intercom and answer the doorman’s call.

“Yes, Manny?” My voice is shockingly steady. Then again, I was trained a long time ago how to act as if my world isn’t crumbling all around me.

“Miss Avery, one of your friends is down here. She says she needs to talk to you.”

The announcement is so unexpected, it takes me a second to answer. “Who is it?”

“Tasha Lopez, ma’am.”

Confusion burns through my haze of despair. It’s Friday night, just past nine o’clock. Tasha should be at Vendange. “She’s here? In the building?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Manny lowers his voice discreetly. “If you don’t mind me saying, she seems very upset. Shall I put her on the phone?”

As much as my heart aches for what I’ve likely lost tonight with Nick, my concern for Tasha has me snapping to attention. “No. Don’t put her on the phone. Tell her I’ll be right down.”

When I pivot to hurry to the bedroom for some clothing, Nick is standing behind me, dressed in his dark suit pants and buttoning his white shirt. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. Tasha’s downstairs. Manny says she’s upset.”

I duck past him to get dressed, my heart caught in my throat for the fact that Nick doesn’t even try to stop me, and my stomach twisting with worry for my friend.





Chapter 36



I don’t expect Nick to follow me, but he steps into the elevator with me a few moments later, each of us taking up opposite corners of the car as it descends silently to the ground floor.