The Muse's Undoing

Maggie also texts asking if I have time to go with her, Stuart, and Donna to The Pierre for their florist consultation next weekend, and I agree without argument. Maybe I can convince Nicole to let me borrow Vaughn for a few hours or the night—hand him off to Donna, and kill two birds with one stone. But then I’ll just be alone again. Fuck.

I fall apart when I finally drag myself back to bed and pull Matthew’s pillow to my face.

It smells exactly like him, and it’s so fucking potent, I shudder before my body gives into its convulsive effort not to break down in tears. I should have listened to him. I should have stopped. It was the worst idea.

And I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry because I don’t what the fuck I’m going to do without him.

Friday night, I enter Ravenna’s SoHo gallery determined to jumpstart my stalled out life. Between Matthew keeping his contact with me to brief check in texts and my failed attempts to render our kiss meaningless, we haven’t properly spoken all week.

I think I’d rather be in a war zone.

My position on keeping things casual with Raven hasn’t changed, but anything that keeps me away from the Eastmoor until Matthew clocks out for the night that doesn’t involve one more second at my office felt worth any kind of misunderstanding I might have to undo later.

Like he can tell I’m stepping straight into trouble’s arms, his text lights up my phone screen the moment I spot Raven across the room.

Matthew

Working late tonight?

Busted.

He’s texted me every day since he left my place Saturday night. I return them, of course, keeping the conversations succinct and impersonal. But I don’t know what to say to this one. Would it hurt him to know I’m here? Would he be relieved?

Raven loops an arm through mine the moment she sees me, and I stuff my phone into my back pocket, letting her lead me through the room. She introduces me like I’m her guy. I have a bad feeling this might make the society pages when I see how many people have their cameras out.

Sometimes I forget I’m a public figure and Raven is a Gallo. Matthew was right when he called her a socialite. She’s the type who gets invited to all the fashion shows. People copy her outfits and her hair, which looks professionally done for tonight. Her honey-blonde waves fall thick over her bare shoulders.

“Oh, Fischer, this is Harold and Stef March.”

I cock my head. “Stuart’s parents?” I ask the older couple.

The woman, whose hair is dyed auburn and styled in a twist, smiles brightly, extending her hand. “You know our boy?”

“My sister’s marrying him.”

“Oh! Of course! How wonderful to meet you.”

Harold March, a tall, silver fox with piercing green eyes shakes my hand as well.

“You have a sister, too?” Ravenna asks.

“She and Matthew are twins,” I say. “And I was adopted.” Just to clear that up off the top. I can’t remember if it came up when I formally introduced them the first time.

“Ohhh…”

“Well, we just love Maggie. We can’t wait to bring her into the fold. She’s such a…free spirit.”

Free spirit coming from Stef March’s mouth sounds like a slight step above doorman. My smile tightens.

“You look familiar,” Harold says.

“He’s a prime time anchor on CPNC.”

“Oh, of course. Forgive me. At my age, the pieces don’t all connect the way they used to, but I’m all caught up now. You’re taller in person.”

I fake a laugh.

“Whatever happened to your leg, dear?” Stef asks.