For five days in a row, I saw Vincent's rental car whenever I went to the office. Sometimes there were flowers at the door; sometimes he waited there in person with a box of food. Once, his assistant brought me a box of pastries in a bag printed with the name of a shop I knew in Ashbourne. Vincent walked over from the car and offered me the flowers, his eyes fixed on my face. I didn't take them. Hugging my paintings to my chest, I walked past him and into the office.
On the fifth day, Daisy finally came to see me alone. She stood on the corner without her usual immaculate makeup, exhaustion in her eyes. "You win, Fiona."
When I looked at her in confusion, she sneered. "The gallery refused to wait any longer. The partnership fell apart. The exhibition slot I worked so hard to secure went
