ISABELLA'S POV
Aria was already there when I walked in.
Window table, menu open, her left hand resting at the edge of it. The ring caught the light when she reached for her water glass. A clean, precise flash. I saw it from the door and made myself breathe before I crossed the room.
"Sorry, am I late?" I set my bag down and sat.
"Not at all. I was early." She smiled. The easy, open kind. "I've been looking forward to this all week."
We ordered. Aria talked about the gala, The sales, Clara's excitement about a second show already in discussion, Vincent's face when the fifth piece sold. She talked with her hands, the ring moving through the air as she spoke, I watched it, listened and thought: she is remarkable. I understand completely why he loves her. I hate this so much.
I ordered w
