"Has the vibe between you changed in the past week?"
I shake my head. "We barely see each other. He works out in the morning, then he's at work the entire day while I work from home. He gets home past seven. We don't have dinner together. He doesn't watch TV or hang out in the kitchen. We're like ships passing in the night."
"The man is a workaholic."
"Textbook," I agree. "Although…"
"In the past week, I've heard him disappear at night."
"Disappear."
I shift in the chair. "Yes. Leave the apartment. So I don't exactly think he's being celibate."
Nadine's eyes widen. "Oh. You think he's meeting someone at night?"
"Why else would a man that busy spend the nights somewhere else?" I ask, shrugging. It shouldn't bother me, and yet, the idea of Victor disappearing at night to another woman, another apartment, feels like nails beneath my skin. Itchy and painful.
I know him. I used to run his schedule, his life, send emails in his name. He'd have a second apartment in our building or rent a hotel room close by. Anything for convenience and to save time.
"Maybe he goes for midnight walks," Nadine suggests, but her voice is doubtful.
I sigh. "Yeah. With all the free time he has. It's okay. I mean, I was under no illusions about our arrangement. He made it very clear in the beginning that we were both free to date."
"Which means you are free to meet Jake."
I roll my eyes. "So I can color-coordinate his closet."
"Yes, after you've made sweet, sweet love."
"Ugh. I hate it when you pull out that phrase."
She grins. "I know."
Her phone rings and I raise an eyebrow, watching as she digs through her purse. "Since when do you have your phone on sound?"
"I do when I might get important-oh." Her face changes in an instant, goes focused and predatory. "Hello?"
I sip from my drink and eavesdrop shamelessly.
"Yes," she says, nodding, as if the person on the other end can see her. "Of course. Yes. I understand."
"Understand what?" I stage-whisper.
She grins and shakes her head in my direction. "I'd be more than happy to. On the twenty-second? Yes. Yes, of course. I can have a completed series by then."
I stare at her in exaggerated surprise, my mouth open, and she grins at me again. "Yes. Thank you so much. Talk to you soon."
She hangs up and the next second she's out of her chair, reaching for me, shrieking. "Oh my God!"
"You got a date for your exhibition?"
"Yes! They've decided I'm a headliner! A headliner, Cecilia!"
"A headliner," I repeat, hugging her back.
"Someone dropped out and they just asked if I'd be willing to show sooner. If I'd be willing, and I'd get a discount ." She leans back, dark brown eyes meeting mine. "Of course I'm willing."
"This means you have the opening next month. The twenty-second."
"Yes." She wipes at her eyes. "I have so much to do. I have to complete my seven virtues series. In three weeks."
"If anyone can do it, it's you."
"I'll have to come up with the money a lot sooner, too. I hope you're as optimistic about that."
"Nadine," I say. "About that... I might have solved that little problem."
Her eyes narrow. "Have you married a second time?"
I snort. "No. The first time was enough."
"What do you mean?"
"I have the money for the exhibition. It was part of what I negotiated for."
She puts a hand on the table, as if she needs the support. "You… Cecilia. You're crazy."
"I'm determined," I say, "and you're more my sister than my best friend."
In the golden light of the bar, her eyes shimmer. "I can't accept that."
"Of course you can. You were the one who told me to marry St. Clair and skim some off the top, and this is me doing just that. I couldn't have done any of this without you. I'll be there on your opening day too, the proudest best friend there ever was."
She hugs me again, squeezing me tight, and speaks through a closed throat. "I don't know how to repay you."
"You don't have to," I murmur. "I love you, you know."
"I love you too," she whispers. "Getting your bosshole to help me too. You're a genius."
"If we rise, we're rising together."
She nods, leaning back to wipe her eyes. "I'm exhibiting."
"You're exhibiting," I repeat. It feels like ten years of work to get to this point, of seeing her experiment and find her voice, lose it again, rediscover a new direction.
My own throat feels a little tight. "You know what this means for tonight."
"We need to celebrate."