The Muse's Undoing

I tear my eyes away from his retreating form to glance at Raven. She’s looking at me quizzically. I shrug. Brothers, am I right?

“He’s not very chatty, is he?” she says once he leaves.

“He’s shy,” I tell her, retaking my seat like it’s not a big deal, and she’s just a neighbor. My stomach is churning. The idea of coffee or a bagel makes me sick, but I take a small bite and turn back to my laptop, barely comprehending the words on the screen.

“So…your sister’s marrying Stuart March, you’re a prime time anchor, and he’s a doorman. How did that happen?”

I don’t get the sense she’s trying to be rude, but the question makes me defensive. “He’s a sculptor,” I tell her. “He’s actually quite talented.”

“Yeah? You should bring him by the gallery. Let me check out his portfolio.”

“That’s up to him,” I say.

“Does he live—like—far away or something?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Just—you implied he slept over because he worked—I just wondered if he commutes into the city.”

“He lives in the Bronx. And he slept over because he just does sometimes.” I share a look with Gavin, and I feel like he’s on the same page as me.

Ravenna glances at Gavin, then says to me, “It’s sweet that you’re so close.”

“He was there for me during a tough time,” I tell her, but I wish I’d shut the fuck up. I could talk about Matthew for hours, and her conversational style feels like a lure and a trap.

“After your injury?”

See?

“My parents are older. He was the one who helped me out.”

“Awww…” she says. “I love that. My parents would have just hired a nurse or something. I get that it would have meant they wanted the best care possible. They’re not big on TLC.”

I do not want to know Raven like this. But I’m also not going to dump her in front of my assistant. Splitting the difference, with my good leg, I nudge his shin under the table.

He jerks slightly and picks up his phone. “Five minutes until that secure Zoom call with the producer—network—person.”

“Right,” I say and give Raven an apologetic look. “Thanks for breakfast. I need to go put on a different shirt.”

“Gotcha. Hey. Speaking of the Hamptons.”

Oh, God.

“I know this is your weekend with Vaughn, but I thought it might be fun to get away for a few days. We have an amazing house. Heated pool. Water slide. The beach. Think about it. Could be a nice break, right?”

“Hm. Thanks for the offer. I just have to be careful about Vaughn, you know?”

“Offer stands for just you, too.”

“Right.” I try not to swallow too hard. Maybe I should have seen this coming? If I hadn’t been so obsessed with someone else, maybe I would have. If I’d acknowledged sooner that my need to be close to Matthew extended way beyond wanting to watch TV with him, this never would have happened in the first place. I’m such a fucking disaster.

“Three minutes, boss.”

“I gotta go,” I remind her.

“Of course.”

She stands with me, and before I know what’s happening, she’s sliding her hands around my waist and leaning in for a kiss.