Tangled threads
959 Words
Ryan didn’t touch the coffee. His fingers remained frozen on the edge of the file Joan had handed him. Evelyn’s gallery. Of all the possible assignments, the universe had sent him this one.
He flipped the folder open slowly, as though it might detonate. Inside were the initial briefs: a zoning issue threatening the expansion project of the gallery. Simple in theory, but tangled with red tape—and now, tangled with something far more personal.
“You’re not serious,” Ryan muttered, eyes skimming the details. “They want us to represent the gallery?”
Joan nodded. “And they asked for you specifically.”
That made him pause. “What?”
“They said someone recommended you. Strongly. But didn’t give a name.”
Ryan shut the folder and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his jaw. “This feels like a trap.”
Joan smirked. “Then it’s a beautifully wrapped one.”
He let out a breath. “If Evelyn didn’t want to see me again, this isn’t going to help.”
“She doesn’t strike me as someone who plays games. Maybe this is her way of saying she still wants you around.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You really believe that?”
“I believe people are rarely done when they say they are. Especially when there’s something real between them.”
There was a pause.
Joan sipped her coffee. “Look, if you’re uncomfortable, I can handle it. No pressure.”
“No,” Ryan said quickly. “I’ll do it.”
Joan smiled but didn’t say anything else. She didn’t need to.
---
By the time Ryan arrived at the gallery two days later, he’d rewritten half the conversation he imagined he’d have with Evelyn. He’d settled on something direct: professional but open. Honest without pushing.
He stepped inside, and the scent of varnish, canvas, and something citrusy met him. Familiar. So was the quiet energy of the space—controlled yet vibrant. He glanced around until he saw her.
Evelyn stood at the far end of the gallery, speaking to a woman with short gray hair and clipboard posture. She didn’t see him at first. But the moment she did, everything in her seemed to still.
Their eyes met.
“Ryan,” she said, her voice neutral.
“Hi,” he said, stepping forward. “I got the brief.”
She gave a tight nod. “I didn’t know they’d assign you.”
“Apparently someone recommended me.”
Her lips twitched, a near-smile. “Might’ve been the board’s call.”
He wanted to ask, "Was it you?" But he didn’t.
The woman beside her excused herself politely. Evelyn waited until she was out of earshot before speaking again.
“I didn’t plan this,” she said. “But I’m not sorry it happened.”
“Neither am I.”
A silence stretched between them—loaded, neither tense nor easy. Ryan finally broke it.
“Look, if working together makes things complicated for you, I can step back.”
Evelyn shook her head. “I don’t want you to. I trust you’ll do your job. Just… let’s keep it professional.”
He nodded slowly. “Of course.”
But both of them knew it wasn’t that simple.
---
Later, back at the firm,
Ryan stared at the folder on his desk like it might explode.
Evelyn’s gallery.
He flipped through the papers with increasing tension. It wasn’t just some random matter—this was a potential intellectual property conflict involving a major piece that had gone viral online, with claims it had been plagiarized by an international designer. The gallery was now in the middle of legal crossfire.
And now it was his job to sort through it.
Joan sat on the couch across from him, sipping her coffee slowly. She didn’t say anything, just watched him read.
"How long have you known about this?" Ryan asked.
"The case landed this morning. I connected the dots when I saw the gallery name. I figured you'd want to handle it."
He exhaled. "Of course I do. But this is going to complicate things."
Joan raised an eyebrow. "Because of Evelyn? Or because you’re afraid to face her?"
Ryan gave her a flat look, but she wasn’t wrong. "We kissed, Joan. Then she walked away like it never happened."
"So make sure she knows it mattered."
Ryan leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. "What if she doesn’t want to see me? What if my being assigned to her case just makes things worse?"
Joan stood and walked to the door. "You won’t know until you try. Fate gave you another shot. Don’t waste it."
just as Joan was about to leave Marcus came in. “How’d it go?”
Ryan dropped the file on the table. “Strange. Civil. Professional.”
“But?”
“She looked like she hadn’t slept. Like she’d been painting through it. And she didn’t deny recommending me.”
Marcus leaned back. “So there’s hope.”
“There’s a case,” Ryan corrected. “That’s what matters right now.”
Marcus didn’t press, but his smirk said everything.
__
Meanwhile, Evelyn sat in her studio, hands stained with acrylics, phone untouched beside her. She told herself she was fine. She’d set the boundary. He would respect it.
But her heart wasn’t on the same page.
Not when he looked at her like that. Not when his voice softened around her name. Not when she remembered the way his lips had felt—brief, warm, real.
She picked up her phone. Opened their last message thread. Closed it again.
It was going to be a long case.
And a few longer weeks.
- Writer
